2020-04-10 - Pornography, Proposals & Pastry Peer Pressure

Sparrow picked the place, negotiated the time and asked Dante to meet her. With spring still a little chilly, she's in that hoodie she's been wearing for the last few weeks, the black one with the white eyes clustered from wrists to elbows. Jeans, boots, pink laces, pale make-up. The shirt past the unzipped jacket is a dull shade of pink with three swords stabbed through a heart on the front, framed like a playing card. She's already got a cup of something steamy in front of her along with an assortment of little tarts and treats, almost certainly selected because they looked neat without all that much care for what they contain. Of course they'll taste yummy. Everything here does.

Dante does very occasionally dress down. Today is not one of these days. Moving from winter into spring means brighter colours and less wools and warm tones. Today it's a more robin's egg blue than the teal of one of his favourite winter suits. White button up, bright canary yellow pocket square, a well-tailored high end trench, black shoes with a yellow stripe where sole meets leather - understated but with a graphic punch. All in all, a classic outfit for him. It takes him a moment to spot her, and when he does, he smiles, "Hello Ms. Bird. How are you?"

"I am on an adventure," Sparrow chirps happily as she looks up from considering which treat to tackle next to give Dante a good once over. Nice and slow without any attempt to hide it. A man with that much attention to detail surely wants someone to notice those details. "You are looking sharp as fuck." As if that's ever not the case. She gestures toward the chair across from her at the decidedly small table she's opted to occupy and nudges one of the petite plates in front of her over thattaway. It's got three little bonbons or petit fours upon it: one glazed in chocolate with a dash of chunky salt and a seafoam swish; one iced in a pale pink glaze with a twist of what might be candied lemon peel atop it; and another chocolate glazed treat with an orange swoosh on the top. Sure, it would be easy to go over to the case and match up the appearance to the appropriate label, but she encourages, "Pick one," right now. "Come on my adventure with me."

Dante tugs at his cuffs and re-settles his suit jacket when he receives the compliment. Then he undoes the buttons in the front of his jacket, so he can sit without messing up the lines. Very important. "Why thank you. I do try." So very hard. He eyes the treats. "How tempting. I am try very hard to eat less sweets and stick to a new workout regimen. But I suppose I should have given up all airs of self-control when I agreed to meet you at a pastry shop."

"Mmhmm," Sparrow agrees. "Pretty much. You can do a few extra..." There's another dip of her gaze down his form, now with fewer buttons done but more table in the way. What begins as borderline lascivious turns silly, laughter contained as her thoughts go somewhere they probably shouldn't before she concedes, "I dunno. Crunches?" when her eyes find his again. "When you get home. For now? Just one."

Dante grins wryly. "I'd say one can't hurt, but we know what a slippery slope that is. But very well." Dante, perhaps a bit unpredictably, goes for the pink confection. "You didn't just invite me here for choose your own pastry adventure, did you?"

"Would it be so bad if I did?" Sparrow asks with wide-eyed concerned, almost certainly feigned. "Everybody needs somebody to adventure with and, frankly? My bestie could totally eat more than my rent's worth of these, so." The delicate rose-water glaze evokes only the faintest floral notes, a fine compliment to the impossibly thin layers of lemon cake and jam within, softened by two layers of strawberry jam, fine red lines interrupting pale yellows. Sparrow takes up the chocolate one with the orange decorations, though she doesn't bite in until after she's said, "You're right, though. First? Mm." First, she digs into the treat, revealing layers of passion fruit and some sort of jelly with chocolate cake. She needs just a second. "Mm. So. I was browsing Amazon the other day when I stumbled on this, uh. Novella. That is totally cop bodyswap. Uh. I mean. There's plot, so. Not like it's total smut, but." She'll go on. She just needs a minute to finish the treat.

And she gets to the point just when Dante has taken a full bite of the treat. The effect is somewhat spoiled by him nearly squirting some of it out of his nose. His hand goes up and he grabs for a napkin to keep from staining his clothes. He coughs several times, trying to clear a crumb that went down the wrong tube. "Oh?" cough, cough, "...really?"

Sparrow hadn't meant to kill him! Whatever else she had meant to relay about either the story or her suspicions, they're set aside--mostly--as she looks to the barista and asks, "Could we get some water please? Thanks!" By the time Dante manages words, she's grinning, at least a little, nodding his direction. A cup of water is set down on the table with a wary look from the server who really, really doesn't want to have to deal with whatever this might be. His shift's over soon, alright? She murmurs another thank you to the guy, but most of her attention is on the writer. "Are you familiar? Definitely looks like you're familiar."

"How in god's name did you happen to stumble upon it?" Dante asks. He won't feign innocence, it seems. Partially because he's a bad liar, partially because there's really no sense in denying it. He grabs for the water with a grateful murmured thank-you and takes a few gulps to clear his windpipe of fancy pastry. "Or is that regularly the sort of thing you go looking for? Not that I'm judging." But there are hints of that sharkish grin.

Sparrow's smile goes so very terribly wide when that wild swing hits. Even if it means she's gotta explain the why and how. Her shoulders turn coquettishly as she shrugs high, playing cuter than she otherwise might to soften the honesty of, "Sometimes? A girl gets bored with the poor grammar and spelling on literotica dot com and wants to branch out into the appearance of professionalism provided by the self-published section of Amazon." She takes a sip of her cappuccino, only to pick back up again as she draws the cup back down to the table. "Not that I was looking for that. I mean." Her expression changes, growing vaguely pensive as she looks off at nothing in particular. The little scrunch of her nose dismisses that line of thought. "Just stumbled on it while following a trail of recommendations."

"Ah, yes, yes..." Dante clears his throat, coughs a little again, and takes another sip from the water. "Short explanation? I felt a looming sense of financial insecurity when I turned into a book and feared it would be like my second which didn't do well commercially. I'd occasionally worked through writer's block by writing some kinky stuff, or got too kinky in the original storyline to the point where it distracted. But I kept those bits and bobs, and one day decided to toss a few up. They did all right, so I kept on with it." And then, "Are you cross with me about it?" His brows furrow.

"First?" Sparrow even brings up a finger to begin counting. "I don't think I can pull off cross. Pissy. Upset. Angry. Disappointed. Maybe even motherfucking irate sometimes?" But cross would be a stretch. Far too british, too polite. Finger number two comes up. "Second? Total wild guess on my part. I figured it was somebody else hot on the weird trend of bodyswapping detective sexiness, and we'd have a laugh about it. I am delighted to be right." She seems to realize that might come off odd after the words are spoken, brow furrowing slightly as her head cants like she might be thinking about adding some footnote, but nope. Finger three! "Third? You really don't owe me an explanation, handsome. Not that I mind knowing the kink comes completely naturally." Grin. "But it's alright. Promise. Your secret is totally safe with me. And the barista." Who, really, isn't listening.

"It's not personal, darling. The stories. I don't write them to get myself off, but because they sell and it gives me a bit of pocket money." Dante shrugs, grins that playful grin again, then adds, "Well, rather, the stories in their final form aren't that. I'm always writing with a specific audience in mind. That's part of the business of being a commercial writer." He sets a hand to his cheek and shakes his head, maybe pinkening just a little. "So you're telling me I could have weaseled m'way out of this if I just had a better poker face? Blast."

Sparrow's forehead crinkles at the first point, her expression reading duh pretty plainly, but she doesn't interrupt. The last point earns only a cheesy brow-waggle, no further gloating about getting it right. Instead, she leans forward to murmur conspiratorially, "I've got a terrible poker face, too," though who knows how honest she's being, given the sharp grin at the corner of her lips when she sinks back, plucking up another confection. "In my experience? The filth is almost never for the artist. It's always with an audience in mind. Maybe a broader paying audience? But maybe sometimes a little more specific." With a glint of mischief in her eyes she wonders, "You ever write for a very narrow audience like that?" before popping the bonbon past her lips without first subjecting it to a cross-section.

"Mhmm, yes on occasion. But I find the people who like my style tend to like a little more plot with their smut. So I do try to oblige. Keeps me in pocket squares." Dante is a little embarrassed about it all still, but he's a confident man and one who doesn't shame easily, so he's doing his best to recover. He pauses a moment, then asks with a very British lilting sing-song, "Did you like it?"

Color comes rather quickly to Sparrow's cheeks right around the little more plot line, that blush only brightening when he asks after her opinion. Her nose scrunches up adorably just before she admits, "It was a little plotty for my tastes." Eyes widening, she's quick to add, "I mean. For. Ya know. What I was looking for that--" She just stops right there, draws a breath, resets and restarts. "It was a good read. But it didn't get me off." It looks, for just a second, like she might add more to that thought by catches herself before she does. "Anyway. There is something else I wanted to talk about for serious and all." As if smut-talk isn't serious!

"Well, there's a whole library there, m'dear. Perhaps one of my other smut-heavy stories will get you there." Then Dante lets loose the full shark smile - the one that highlights the whites of his eyes. But then she's changing the subject and he schools his features into something more serious. "Oh?"

"Maybe I'll letcha know if any of the others hit the spot," Sparrow poses, though there's definitely a big unspoken maybe not. Even brazen creatures like her might have some limits somewhere. The cappuccino comes up again, potentially to cleanse the palate between one subject and the next, maybe just to take a second to collect her thoughts before charging headlong into the next topic. "I think I might be ready to get started with the, uh. Oneirogenic experimentation. I've got a few phases laid out, some theories to test, and. I was wondering how involved you might wanna be, and. Uh." Her face scrunches a bit as she asks, "How comfortable you'd be with me telling Cris. Especially given that I'm definitely hoping Elias is in."

"I don't keep secrets from anyone. It's not fair, and it's...well, it's bloody exhausting. So whatever happens, consider everything out in the open." Dante purses his lips. "I suppose it would depend on how dangerous this business is. I'm not...the bravest when it comes to this sort of things. I've noticed this town does quite like to poke the bear. But I'm definitely on board for being a sounding board for your plans."

Sparrow squints at that not-a-secret-keeper line like she's trying to find the edges of that label, figure out how it applies to... well, to the portion of the conversation they've just left behind. But she doesn't ask. Instead, she assures, "I am not a bear-poker," with certainty. "These bears are scary, and I don't want all that much to do with them, but. If they're gonna keep poking at me? I wanna... I dunno. Feel like I've got a little more in my arsenal." Her lips purse into a pensive frown that lasts all of a second and a half before she's past it. "I think phase one is testing without the oneirogens. Can we get where we want to go on our own. What happens when we try. Do we need to be anywhere specific. Can we all get to the same place. Do the oneirogens help with the crossover in any way." There's more, to be sure, but she stops there, watching Dante to see what he thinks.

"Have you spoken to others in the town at all? You may be re-inventing the wheel a titch. Could be some of the data is out there already with regards to a stable spot or two. In which case..." Dante reaches for his glass of water, "...you may be able to move right on to stage two. Or at least the second half of phase one. And...perhaps attempting mundane lucid dreaming techniques so the people involved have that tool as well?"

Sparrow looks away at the first question, telling, to be sure, though it's hard to know quite what it tells. "That's a good idea, yeah," comes quietly for the last part. The rest? Well. She goes back to her cappuccino, drinking deep, until it's nearly nothing but foam clinging to the edges of the mug left, her top lip sucked into her mouth to clean it of its sweet mustache. "Elias is my go to expert," comes eventually, though she isn't looking at Dante again just yet. "My experience with others has been. I dunno. Not good. And it does seem like they're maybe a bit reckless." Finally, her focus falls back on the author as she calls these theoretical other people, "Bear-pokey. But." Lips twist into a shallow grimace. "Maybe there's someone else I can check with before hand."

"I'm not talking about rolling people in to your project so much as...a little friendly knowledge-share? Not work with them, but learn from their experience? We're all after the same thing, even if some are going about it in a more haphazard and dangerous way." Dante leans forward and tries to catch her eye. "Is there something else? Something else that's got you a bit on-edge?"

Sparrow's left hand lifts to rub at the back of her neck as she listens, as she lets Dante catch her eye easily. Even if her brows are arched in challenge. Her chin follows, a tip up, forward. "What do you think we're all after? Cuz I really don't think the whole lot of us are on the same page? I'm pretty sure we're in different books. Maybe in different libraries entirely."

"Well, insofar as everyone I've spoken to at least, wants to find out more about the Veil and about how Dreams work. And about what stalks us in the night. Even if people are going wildly off in all directions about their approaches and their methods. But..." Dante head-wobbles. "I admit to not talking to many about all of this business. I've been easing myself in rather slowly."

With a shake of her head, Sparrow argues, "But that's not the same. I mean, yeah. Okay. You can boil it down to that, but there's more for each of us. A why. And, yeah. A how. And some of those hows are just plain dumb." Anger tightens her jaw for a moment, but she's quick to draw in a deep breath and let it go, expression softening as she does. "Look. If you talked to these people? I'm sure they wouldn't talk down to you or just." The thought stops there, and she just shakes her head. "I'll figure it out, alright?"

"Look, Sparrow, I..." Dante takes a breath. "I'm not trying to tell you what to do. You know this town and its people far better than I do. I'm just approaching this as an academic. And academics tend to benefit from the research of their peers. That's all." He draws back, his tone gentle but not condescending. "If you don't think it's a good approach, then don't do it."

"I didn't say I didn't think it was a good idea," Sparrow points out. "Just that I've kinda had shit luck with it." Beat. "For how little I've tried. Like I said. I know who else I can ask that I'm not gonna get all weird at." In case he's somehow not sure what she means, she gestures to herself, to the way she's making a mopey, faintly irritated face. "I think a lot of people, though? As a general rule? Have a hard time thinking of me as their peer. And, unfortunately, not because I am damned near peerless." Another gesture toward herself, though this time with a cheesy brow-waggle. "I'll do some research first, alright?"

"People are fairly used to me being nosy, and they seem charmed by my accent. Anyone I could take a run at who you haven't had luck with in the past?" And then Dante scoffs softly at the 'peer' thing. "That's very silly. And I suppose, very small-town."

"No." It's simple and direct. And promptly reconsidered. Sparrow pulls a face, looking away for just a second as she draws a deep breath before refocusing on Dante with a roll of her eyes. "The problem is an ex. He kinda didn't take me seriously. Or took my caution as problematic?" Her expression very plainly reads what the fuck. "I know the people he was working with are knowledgeable. Decent people, really. But it's weird. Given the givens. So. As long as I'm kept entirely out of it? Alexander Clayton and Isabella Reede are good contacts."

"I've noticed a certain recklessness that has permeated this town. And perhaps moved the needle about what is reasonable caution and what is 'worrying too much.'" Dante half-shrugs. "I attribute it to a sort of...well, the best I can say is a 'fuck it' attitude and annoyance at always being on the defensive. Which I can understand. But I definitely don't think recklessness should be the default approach."

"Recklessness is my default approach to so much," Sparrow admits openly, comfortably. "Everyone gets hung up on dumb shit. On normal shit. Who to kiss and what to drink and--" She grins, gesturing toward what of the petite pastries are left. "--what to eat. How to have fun. They put all their worry into the easy stuff. But when it comes to the headfucking, life-threatening, put-you-in-the-hospital nonsense?" Her eyes go wide as she shrugs overly dramatically. "I don't get it. Just like they somehow don't get it when I'm not all, why yes, I would like to throw my life away for this one little point of curiosity."

"I think you've been hanging with the wrong crowd. I'm pretty sure I'm King Cautious." King-in-control. He who wears suits as armor and keeps his flat military-neat. Dante likes his hands firmly on the wheel, but Gray Harbor keeps yanking the wheel out of his hands. "I can guarantee I'll never advocate reckless exploration."

"I like that about you," Sparrow replies quietly, honestly. It's a couple of seconds before there's follow-up, a brief moment of study of the put-together person settled opposite her. "I think you understand the meticulousness that I practice in some aspects of my life which allow me the freedom to be--" She gives her head a bit of a wobble, not content to simply settle on reckless here. "To make choices which, on the surface, appear a little bit fuck it even if they're not entirely. Not as much as people think." A grin flashes in a brief pause before she adds, "I'm trusting you to keep my secret," but they both know it's a lie. He's admitted his openness and proven all too easily outed already.

"I'm a very bad liar, but it doesn't take a good liar to just not speak. And to be clear, I meant I don't keep relationship-related secrets or secrets about the danger I might be putting myself in from the people in my life." Dante leans forward, conspiratorially. "...but if I have another pastry even though it's completely off my diet, I won't exactly be confessing that." He winks.

Sparrow's gaze strays with intentional drama on the wake of that wink, head tilting to imply that she might be a tattletale. It's a lie, to be sure, confirmed by dismissive nose-scrunch and conspiratorial grin which follow. It softens into a more comfortable smile, whatever had been irking her a moment ago already gone from her mind, shed entirely. "Another reason I like you. I mean, not the bad liar thing, though that is fun, but. The honesty thing. The ex?" See? No bristliness at the mention. All better. "Kept me in the dark. Kinda got me a little weird at Cris, really. For no good reason. I mean, he was asking about this stuff while I was right there. Not like he was hiding it. But my brain's all what-if-he-does. And then why-should-I-care. Which." She just rolls her eyes and looks askance. As she nudges a plate Dante's way encouragingly.

"Ah, you don't have to explain to me the dynamics with exes. There's a reason I'm no longer in New England." Dante looks for the server to flag down for a cup of coffee. Then he examines the remaining pastry, debating it like a man who is trying to control his impulses. "I can't imagine what it would be like if she were here and in on all of the supernatural to boot."

"He can roadtrip it back to New York," Sparrow asserts unnecessarily on the point of who ought to leave just because of the break-up. Not because she thinks he should, necessarily, but that if one of 'em does gotta go? It's not gonna be her. When the server swings by, she notes, "I'll have another french vanilla cappuccino please. Thanks." Once both orders are in and the server heads back off, she asks, "How does it feel to think about Cris crossing over?"

Dante tenses a little, but then shrugs. "Truth be told, his job is probably more dangerous than a carefully controlled traversal across the barrier between this world and the next." He smiles fleetingly. "He's a big boy who is more than capable of taking care of himself." He lifts a shoulder again. "I'd be lying if I said I was completely comfortable with it, but don't we always get tense when the people we care about put themselves in danger?"

Sparrow has a point she wants to make. It's written all over her face, how she's just waiting for an opening. But then she deflates at the last question and murmurs a soft, "Yeah," in resigned agreement. "I don't mind the danger as much?" sounds uncertain, like she's not sure at all how she feels about the risk yet. This is where her youth has the better of her, where she has little experience trusting others while they do things she maybe wouldn't. "It's that whole carefully controlled thing. I don't, uh. I mean. How much control do we have, ya know?"

"I suppose the same could be said about..." Dante gestures around. "...it's just more obvious that things aren't under our control over there. Think of all the random twists of fate that could hit us in just ordinary life. It pains me to say this as a man who does love to be in control, but there is a very real possibility it's just an illusion. And it's a matter of degrees between here and there."

Sparrow rolls her eyes all big and dramatic at that point, dragging out a sighed, "Faaaaair," in reluctant concession. "Though." Her dark eyebrows arch sternly, head tipped forward slightly. "You are in control of plenty. Plenty outside of your hands, sure. Like the weather. And people. But even people can be, I mean. If not controled, then at least influenced by the things you can control. Appearance, demeanor, actions, all that. Definitely nudges 'em where you want 'em to go, so." Stay strong Team Control. The world isn't all chaos.

"The problem being, it can be very frustrating when things are completely outside of your control. And you want them to be. Generally I don't feel a need to control others. Just myself. But I can't control the..." Dante waves vaguely to his head, twiddles his fingers, apparently to mean his powers. "...or when and where I cross over into a weird dream world."

Sparrow's brows go up curiously at that unspoken implication, not sure if she's reading that right, but the words which follow distract her from that point for a moment. Enthusiastically. "Exactly! Right. See? And that's what I want to figure out. How to have some control over that. Cuz I'm kinda done with it, ya know? And I'm done with all the people telling me it's not all bad. Especially after watching it fuck up some of the people close to me in ways they just." She holds up her hands as she stops herself. Possibly because she sees the barista coming by with her refilled cappuccino and his coffee. There's a murmur of thanks before she's refocused on the conversation. At a slightly lower volume, concluding, "I'm definitely done with that."

"Knowledge power and ignorance is not bliss. Ignorance just means you don't fully understand yourself, or the danger you might be in. At least in this town." Dante pulls the coffee towards him and sips it without adding anything to it. He's managed to leave the pastry alone. All the talk of control seems to have him practicing it. "Truth be told, I haven't had much time to ponder all of this lately. I've been so busy with my latest book and, well, my love life."

For all the interest Sparrow had in playing devil's advocate when Dante had first arrived, she demonstrates her support of his self-restraint now by plucking up the remaining pastry, leaving it pinned between middle finger and thumb as her index finger points his way. "That sounds more interesting." The treat starts to make its way to her mouth, but she pauses to give it a wobble as she adds, "Your love life, more than the book. Not that I'm not interested, but." She takes a bite, a little pull of caramel separating just before it gets messy, oozy without being obnoxious.

Dante stares at the treat, perhaps regretting his self-control. There's also a whole counter of sweets behind him, but he'll do his best to restrain himself. "And a potential conflict of interest, so probably best left undiscussed, hmmm?" He sips his coffee again, then check his watch (a very nice, elegant watch, of course.) "I hate to dash off, but speaking of discipline, I should get some more writing done today. I've actually made some headway lately."

Sparrow clucks her tongue with decided disappointment, though her pout is rendered somewhat insincere by the smile tugging it out of place. "Seems more an overlap of interests to me, but." She's not seriously pressing, the words meant entirely as a tease. "Thank you. For this. The time and the talk. I'll letcha know what I find. And what phase one's gonna look like when I've got everybody on the same page." Her mug is lifted toward him in toast, but she's gonna linger a little to finish her drink.

"And thank you for not hitting the pastry peer pressure too hard. My abs thank you. Maybe next time we can meet at a juice bar?" Not that Gray Harbor has one of those. Dante stands and drops money on the table - enough to cover their bills. He winks and slides his coat on. "Happy hunting."