1390/The Bachelor Auction Prize

The Bachelor Auction Prize
Date of Scene:	10 July 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Daken, Nightwing

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Daken has posed:
The auction is over, and Daken went for broke. It was for a good cause, not that it mattered at all to him. Even if he didn't have the money on hand, he could have procured it through no end of personal methods.

People don't usually say no to Daken, no matter what he asks. The pheromones help with that, but he doesn't have to rely on chemical enhancement with the average person. He's practiced enough dealing with people that he barely has to try anymore.

Which is why it's nice to have a challenge set before him. Daken's not deluding himself that he'll get to make time with Dick, but he gets to spend time with a handsome date in a nice place...one that Daken has designs on, and one that Dick will of course incidentally know: the Iceberg Lounge. It's probably more comfortable to Daken than it is to Dick, but neither is likely aware of the thoughts associated in the other's mind.

"Nice place," Daken comments. "I've wanted to come here for a while now. Love the little birds." Though he doesn't clarify if he's talking about the themed waitstaff costumes or the actual penguins in the place. And hey, conservation and environmental causes can't be bad, right? Surely Oswald Cobblepot is a fine, upstanding member of the community. "What are you drinking? I think I'll have a martini."

Nightwing has posed:
    When they arrived to the Iceberg Lounge and got out of the cab there might have been a bare moment of trepidation. Just a touch of a faintly acrid scent to him as he looked on the place. His eyes widened slightly, as if amused at the situation but then he had looked over towards Daken and waved off any possible problem with the place.
    Then they entered and he walks along side the well-disguised feral mutant. "I don't really drink," He says as he smiles over towards Daken, even as he's settling into the seat and drawing it in a bit so as to make sure the waitstaff has enough room to get by. He brings those blue eyes back towards Daken and smiles, "I'll just have some water with lemon," He'll offer to the server as one just then had sauntered up.
    The other bachelor waits for Daken to place his drink order then he looks back, "I'm sure the Boys and Girls clubs appreciate you spending all that money. I thought you were just talking a big game."

Daken has posed:
Doesn't drink? Daken files that away for another time. So he's handsome, dashing, and impossibly pure. Maybe he indulges in some other way. That's usually it; the overtly sedate ones always have some hidden wild side.

Daken bets he's an acrobat in the bedroom!

But those thoughts are pushed aside, and even the scent he detected at first brushed away, though not forgotten. He makes his order, rumbling in a particularly sultry tone to their server. "Martini, darling. Filthy."

There's something about how he says the word "filthy" that makes it sound absolutely naughty beyond any reasonable means, at the same time as it comes off as familiar to his tongue. It's easy for him, he has such a disconcertingly easy command of things like that. Less formidable men than Dick collapse in the face of that forceful mien.

"It's for a good cause," Daken answers, once they're alone again. "I've got a sugar daddy, what do I care?" And he flashes a grin, then laughs softly. He doesn't make it entirely clear he's joking, but he's probably joking. That's got to be a joke. "No, uh, really, I wanted to see what you were like, *away* from the adoring crowds."

Nightwing has posed:
    It is, indeed, always the quiet ones. For he does tend to indulge himself in such terribly illegal things. Yet his countenance, his smile, his manner gives no hint to such. Did he even offer some sense of what employment he follows? What career? Any path of study? Not one whit, yet he flows through life so easily and amongst any number of people. Curious.
    But once the server departs, Dick takes the time to give the place a once over, "This is... quite the choice in decor." He tilts his head to the side as he espies some of the birds in their water tanks, swimming blissfully. Then he looks on the waiters and waitresses and chuckles as he looks back.
    "Oh?" His lip curls as he murmurs, "Sounds like good work if you can get it." But then he looks to the small flickering light in the middle of their table. He extends a palm over it, as if sensing the heat. But then he clucks his tongue when there isn't one.
    "See, you'd imagine in a place like this they'd have actual candles." He lightly turns the small glass sphere on its side to peer at the LED effect, then grins back to Daken. "Well, as for what I'm like... I'm afraid this is it."
    Now that... is not entirely true. But what might strike Daken as curious is that on some level he believes it. Compartmentalized belief? Delusion? Or perhaps just training needed to defeat ever so curious lie detectors.

Daken has posed:
It certainly piques Daken's curiosity. He's interesting in Dick on a number of levels, and most of them aren't the superficial manner he presents most of the time. But it's a role he plays to the hilt himself, as if he's much like the man across the table from him, just in a completely different approach. He can recognize someone like himself. Certain things make the common ground obvious.

"I could get used to it," he answers plainly, looking around when his date does, then watching him as he inspects the lighting. The little things he did, like using his hand to measure the heat, those are noted and filed away too. "I'll bet your kisses are mind-blowing, and you probably leave the toilet seat down and show up randomly with chocolate or gelato or wine and roses." His grin returns, showing a bit more tooth as he continues. "And I'd bet just about any amount of cash that those excellent thighs know their way around a stable. So, you're a prince on horseback?"

Nightwing has posed:
    A small laugh slips from him and his features colour ever so slightly, but it is a short lived thing as he shakes his head before looking back across the table towards Daken, "Well." He shifts in his seat slightly, settling back in the chair and crossing a leg over his knee. The comment about kisses is avoided entirely, perhaps dismissed subtly by a smooth turn of word, "I did grow up in a household where it was important to keep things properly in their place and that did include toiletries and assorted other articles in the same area."
    He then gets a small surprised and a little pained look as across the way an older woman is waving towards him. Mrs. Nordwich desperately trying to catch his eye. But pleasantly Dick, for his part, affects a small smile and waves back to her happily.
    "A friend of the family," He offers in explanation, but then looks back and continues. "I do like giving presents, however. And yes, I've been for a race or two on horseback."

Daken has posed:
The woman doesn't escape Daken's notice. He continues to assemble information from everything he's exposed to, though this methodical reconnaissance of sorts never bleeds through to his pleasant demeanor otherwise. He offers the woman a thin smile before turning back to listen to Dick, authentically attentive and very nearly hanging on his every word.

"I knew it!" Daken laughs again, though with restraint enough that it's only between the two of them at the table. "I work sometimes as a personal trainer," he adds, by way of explanation, waving his hand lightly. It's then that the drinks arrive, and he takes his with a quiet murmur of thanks.

Once Dick has his own drink, Daken lifts his martini glass. "So we should have a toast. What do we drink to?"

Nightwing has posed:
    "New friends," Dick replies with little delay to the words, letting them spring forth with a candid ease. But then he smiles and extends his glass towards Daken enough for there to be a slight clink.
    But then he turns his attention on the waitress who is patiently holding for their order. He gives her a smile that perhaps might cause her to flush a faint crimson herself, though he says. "I would love the surf and turf if I may, medium rare." That's all he asks for then he looks to Daken for the man to place his order.
    Once that's done the girl will wander off and it leaves them time to talk again even though there's a faint increase in the ambient noise as the band begins to play a gentle tune to accompany dinner.
    "So what takes up your time, Daken? What do you find you enjoy doing?"

Daken has posed:
"New friends!" Daken repeats, brightly, and takes a tiny sip of his drink after touching his glass to Dick's own. He licks his lips, nodding once in approval before he sets the glass on the table.

It's all he can do to keep himself under control as Dick gives his order. Surf and turf indeed! Daken would love to say something, would *love* to remark on that, but...the waitress is there, and he has more restraint than that. Surprisingly.

"I'd like...quiche florentine. Please. Thank you." Daken takes the challenge, such as it is, and breaks into a devastatingly charming grin at the waitress. If she doesn't pass out from blood loss between these two, she's made of sterner stuff than most in the city.

Once they're alone again, he sits straighter, then back, and plays with the stem of his glass. "This is it," he answers. "I like getting to know new people. I confess, I'm usually fond of...things we probably shouldn't talk about in such a nice place."

Nightwing has posed:
    The young man opposite him smiles and lets his lips part in a simple 'ah' of sound before he flares his hands faintly as if to accept the sentiment that was proposed. He takes it on himself, then, to elaborate on his interests as he says. "Well, after school, I did the terribly cliched finding myself year, wandered around Europe and Asia, came home not too terribly long ago. Now..." He takes up his glass and holds it aloft, "I am considering becoming a police officer." The last few words have an accent to them as if he were attempting to be hoity toity.
    But then his smile breaks, "But other than that, I used to be something of an acrobat when I was intensely young." He looks up a bit, "I did some fencing, some track, some gymnastics during my studies. But since then..." He waves a hand to the side, then takes another sip of water.
    "I'm still searching for something to gain my interest fully." Which, to be fair, isn't true. But it has that same sort of mental... compartmentalism.

Daken has posed:
"I'd guess either you're secretly a sadist looking for a socially-excusable outlet for your need or," Daken states, with a motion of the free hand, "more likely a noble soul looking for some kind of justice. There's no future in police work, either way."

It's not really so much a judgemental statement as an analytical one, not so much malicious as...faintly contemptuous, but not towards Dick. Apparently, Daken at least has some depth to him, and some contemplation. Maybe it could be chalked up to some experience in the matter, but he maintains an air of mystery.

"You look pretty intensely young to me," he adds, pulling the skewered large olives from his drink and taking the lowermost one off with his teeth. He chews it and sets the skewer back in the mixture, then rests the glass on the table again. "I'd offer to work on engaging your fascination drive, but I get the feeling that -- surf and turf aside -- you're into the ladies more."

Not that Daken isn't up for a challenge, but...this one clearly needs careful handling.

Nightwing has posed:
    "I think..." Dick furrows his brow as he looks to the side, "That I know that, on some level." He looks back towards the child of Wolverine and tilts his head the other way with some measure of trepidation, as if trying to navigate the choice of words to fit exactly what he means. "But I also feel like since I am fairly comfortable somewhat... that I wouldn't be beholden to the same interests?"
    There's a pause then he adds, "If that makes sense,"
    But then he gives a small wave of his hand at the comment about his age, "Twenty five currently," And then the discussion turns to sexuality and he gives the other young man a smile that lights up his face.
    "I am, I'm afraid. I mean, I am flattered utterly. And I could see how being with you would be pretty extraordinary for whomever you turned your affection to."
    But then he shakes his head, "Unfortunately I have... an old crush that has my heart, and combined with the life I lead it makes things difficult if I even consider wanting something at all serious."

Daken has posed:
"I don't know. Maybe?" Daken casually tilts his head. It makes a little sense, though if he's honest, he's not entirely sure he gets exactly what Dick means. But maybe with thought, he'll be able to process it successfully enough in time. He's still learning about Dick, but there's an incentive to learn more: Daken loves a challenge and will never back down from one, if he has any choice in the matter.

Still so pleasantly incidental about his motions and words -- almost conspicuously light -- Daken just nods once, fingertips of one hand lingering on his glass. "You're very *careful* in what you say. Not that I blame you. Anyway, I figured. All the princes are taken, right? Just like if you're a woman, all the princes are gay." Then he laughs, and this time it's a hair louder than before, able to be heard even by others not at the table.

Nightwing has posed:
    "Am I?" Dick frowns slightly, not sadly but perhaps apologetically, as if offering amends for speaking in some way at all displeasing. But he takes another drink of his water, "I do try to word things as best as I can, and my instructors were..." He gets a small smile but still tinged with a hint of sadness, "They were people that took their jobs very seriously and so in turn..." He opens his hand to the side, as if offering this as suitable evidence. For, in a way, it was.
    But then he leans forwards, "And, to be fair, Daken." Dick's smile is gentle now, tinged with a touch of amusement, "I doubt there is any evening that you sleep alone not by your choosing." He gestures with his glass as if taking in the entirety of the lounge as he looks across the way.
    "For someone like you the world is yours, I envy you in a lot of ways. Your freedom, and your openness of intent." And curiously that rings true.

Daken has posed:
That elicits a curious look from Daken. It's not so guarded as perhaps he has been; there's an authenticity to his curiousness, and it shows well enough in his eyes, which surely Dick will see.

It melts away into an easy sort of pleasant and casual attitude, at least on the surface. "True, but...it gets a little...perfunctory, after a while." Up to now, some might have found his use of such a word surprising, especially with how shallow he played up his persona. "After you know you can get it whenever you want it, you turn to things that actually *interest* you. You interest me. I like you."

Daken lifts his glass, then looks up, as if only belatedly realizing how that sounds. "I mean...well. Yeah, like that too, but you're an interesting guy. I feel like...I want to spend more time with you. If you're up for it. No strings. Just...there's something about you I want in my life." And a mystery he needs to solve.

Nightwing has posed:
    "That's kind of you to say, Daken. I appreciate your honesty." Which might amuse him even as Dick looks across the table at him, "I think you're pretty keen too." His smile broadens as he fights back a small laugh, but he then gives a nod. "I wouldn't object to talking and spending time together now and again." He looks back to the other supposedly young man, "I should tell you, however, that I am..."
    For a moment Dick frowns, his brow furrowing as he looks down at his glass, fingertip clinking against it faintly.
    He looks back up and finishes his thought, "I am a difficult person to be friends with. I am busy. I have a terrible memory. I often miss dates and events because I just..." He shakes his head, "Things come up, or I get distracted with something else. There's no malice in my intent, but I have lost many friends because of my inability to get to the movies at the right time." A smaller smile, apologetic.
    "But if you can put up with that, I wouldn't have any hesitation in spending time together."

Daken has posed:
At first, Daken seems to settle right back into the complacent, companionable quiet that has surfaced so frequently this evening. But as Dick says more, he becomes visibly interested, even excited, leaning forward and starting to turn his glass on the table. By the end of it, he's practically beaming, hair bouncing wildly with a life of his own as he nods several times in answer.

"We're going to get along *perfectly*."

Whatever Dick said to convince him of that is not made clear. But apparently, he couldn't have chosen better words if he tried. "Honestly though? Anybody that would ditch you because you're terrible with strict schedules *obviously* isn't committed enough." No pun intended. If only he knew.

Nightwing has posed:
    "Again, thank you for your kindness," And Dick smiles as he takes a sip of his water.
    And that is the moment their food arrives. He looks up and gives a nod of thanks to the servers, then he looks back towards Daken and murmurs, "Shall we?"