legionworld | oh this is the night, it's a beautiful night

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oh this is the night, it's a beautiful night

Who| Marjara and Widowmaker (Closed)
What| Well, it's either a girl-date or a date-date. Have they figured out which one yet?
Where| Some Fancy Restaraunt™, followed by the Theatre
When| After Mind Slayer, before The Lemurian Adventure
Warnings/Notes| Awkwardness likely.

Thankfully, there are no nerves involved into this little outing. She's fairly certain if it was anyone else, she might be. That's a funny thought to have, because honestly after everything else she's faced in her life, what's a evening eating and conversing with a stranger?

Luckily, it's not a stranger. It's Amelie, who's agreed to steer her through the intricacies of what dating is supposed to be like. An education experience, something she can appreciate. That doesn't mean she isn't taking it seriously. She does her best to make herself presentable, to wear something fitting for a night out, her hair carefully combed back out of her face and braided (with help) with only a few tendrils loose to frame her face and ears. A pretty shawl drapes over her shoulder to conceal the empty sleeve, and the effect is almost too elegant.

Vivienne would be pleased, she can't help but think. And this dinner is very much in line with what she'd expect from some Orleasian affair, the food very delicately seasoned and artfully prepared. Thankfully, it tastes as good as it looks.

"So." She sets down her wine glass, one eyebrow lifting. "What sort of conversation does one usually have on a date like this?"

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So far, so good. Whereas Marjara wasn't nervous, Amélie was as nervous as she was capable of. It wasn't so much that she was on a date with Marjara, but that she was on one at all. It had been so long and she still wondered what possessed her to make the joke she had that lead to taking the elf out on an actual date. She hadn't been on a date-date since... her husband was still alive and he'd take her out when he got back from a mission.

Perhaps she went a little overboard on her choice of dress, but when it came to her clothing, she played up her natural beauty - something she still possessed even with the unnatural skin color. The long black dress that hugged her curves had a low scooped back that put that unique spider tattoo of hers prominently on display was accented with a delicate lace. A slit went up the right side, just high enough that when Amélie sat, there was a hint of the lace garter she was wearing to simultaneously cover the bandage on her still healing thigh and conceal a few thin throwing knives. A date this may be, with someone capable of throwing fireballs around, Widowmaker never went anywhere unarmed when she was injured. Her long hair was unbound and spilled over her shoulders and down her back in a silken curtain and a modest amount of jewelry completed the ensemble. She looked good and she knew it, but so did Marjara. Compliments were readily given before they sat down for the meal.

Amélie hummed at the question as she dabbed at her lips with her napkin before replying. "Typically conversation focuses on getting to know the other person better. Talk of hobbies and interests, following tangents when they take flight. Though there are four things that should not be topics of that conversation."

She took a quick sip of her wine before ticking them off on her fingers. "Religion, politics, exes and sex." A brief pause. "Well that last one really depends on what the ending of the date is intended on being."

"No talk of religion or politics? I think I could live with that."

A grin flashed across the table as her nose scrunched slightly, her fork coming to rest delicately against the edge of her plate. "I can do small talk, but between us it seems a little forced, don't you think? So. I think I'd rather hear what you've been up to lately."

After all, they were both busy working for the Legion. Some interesting stories were bound to have come up since the last time they spoke, and work could be a shared interest, couldn't it?

Amélie agreed, though she didn't really think what she'd been up to was exactly interesting or proper date conversation. Her time having her memories invaded by the Judge and Tracer was not something she wanted to bring up. It was just... a lot of things she couldn't put into words.

"Aside from the classes I teach, there has not been much worth talking about. I do not get assigned many missions; it's as though our employers are concerned that I won't follow protocol," she said with a slight snort. "Law enforcement is very much not what I am used to doing."

And then she remembered something that Marjara might find interesting. "My first time being sent assigned a solo mission - I happened to be the closest Legionnaire to the incident - I stopped some thugs. A waste of my skills, but it is what it is. Taking them down was simple." Though not as simple as simply killing them would have been. "Once I had them in cuffs and the SP had arrived to assume custody, these children that had witnessed the whole thing decided that they had to come talk to me. They weren't scared of me."

Amélie tapped her nails on the edge of her plate. "They wanted to know why I am called Widowmaker. I was quite thrown by their interest."

Marjara broken into a grin, eyebrow lifting. "Really?"

Alright, the mental image was an adorable one. Children clustered around Amélie as she tried to wrap her head around the idea of not only not terrifying them, but being a point of fascination to them. How awkward that must have felt.

"Children can be surprisingly morbid in their interests. But in this instance I think they were just curious about their new hero. Seeing that sort of thing so close at hand...I don't think it's any wonder they wanted to meet you."

She's so proud of you.

Amélie scoffed a little, leaning back in her seat as she swirled her wine. "I am no hero," she replied. "Nor should anyone mistake me as one."

Though, she couldn't deny that there had been satisfaction to completing the mission, even though she hadn't taken a life. It was odd to feel that without the accompanying death. She didn't feel alive like she did upon snuffing out a life, but it did make the drought she had to endure a bit easier.

"The children tried to touch me; I did not let them. Thankfully, one of the adults was keen enough to realize my general aversion to casual contact and herded them away." It was a testament to how much Amélie enjoyed a person's presence if she let them touch her or, more importantly, initiated it herself. "I suppose I should come up with an acceptable explanation as to my code name."

"Do enough heroic things you get the title, like it or not." Her smile turned a bit self-deprecating as she settled back into her seat, hand dropping to her lap. "We don't often get to decide what people know us as. They may just decide it's a name meant to inspire fear in our enemies. Who are pretty universally reviled. Thus..."

A hero she is. At least in this context.

There was a faint crease in her brow to follow. "You're alright though? I know you're not usually a very tactile sort of person."

"That is... Roughly the reasoning I went with." She raised her right arm up and turned it so Marjara could get a good look at some of the words tattooed into her skin. "Cauchemar. It means 'nightmare' in French. Thus, even our enemies have nightmares and that is where I reside. Or something like that," she said with a dismissive gesture.

She took a sip of her wine, setting the glass down. "I am well enough. I simply don't care for the reactions I get when people realize I have no warmth in my body. Certainly not children."

"It is a little odd, at first..."

Nothing to dissuade her, of course.

"But we all have our peculiarities, don't we? I'd say doing some real good should outweigh whatever makes you different, but I know it isn't always the case." There was a self-deprecating little smile before she shrugged, picking up her fork once more. "If you get mobbed by any more children, I'll be sure to protect you. The ears are very distracting."

There was a soft little snort at the mention of doing 'real good', as if it was impossible for someone like Amélie to do such a thing - she was an international terrorist after all that killed people - but there was no need to remind Marjara any more what she really was. The fact that the elf chose to overlook that was a blessing to her.

It was almost an impulsive gesture, but Amélie reached across the table to tuck a bit of stray hair back behind one of said ears, cool fingertips brushing against it lightly. "Oui... they certainly are," she murmured before withdrawing her hand.

Leaning back in her chair, she caught some movement out of her eye that she'd been ignoring earlier and frowned. "I am imagining things, or do we have a bit of an audience?"

As the restaurant hostess and their server were off to the side whispering, pointing and apparently snapping a picture in their general direction.

Ah. That cool touch of elegant fingers against her ear earned a light shiver, though one she worked hard to suppress. Ears. Why did they have to be so gods-damned sensitive?

But her attention was drawn by their apparent admirers, and her dark eyes darted briefly to the side before rolling slightly. "Don't tell me you weren't expecting that. Two Legionnaires out on a date? I'm surprised they're being so discreet."

Now she really did chuckle, tilting her head warmly in Amélie's direction. "You were used to being in the spotlight once, weren't you?"

It didn't occurred to Amélie at the time that their server most likely overheard their post-dinner destination of the theater. These two might be discreet, but they probably liked their jobs. Once they got to the theater, now that the information was out there on the internet... who knew what they would deal with.

A normal person would've blushed in embarrassment, but not Amélie. She simply bit her bottom lip and shook her head. "Many years ago, and it was different. Ballet is only popular in small wealthy circles. Outside of Paris, I was barely ever recognized."

It could be difficult, dealing with sudden notoriety and fame. People assumed all sorts of things about you, and they pressed in close to try and stab you in the back or hope that a little of that special spark of fame might rub off onto them. It could be exhausting. Marjara could hardly blame her companion for already being over it all.

"And we are quite distinctive looking. So there's no question if someone happens to spot us out on the town."

The words came spilling out before she could think on them too long.

"Maybe we should find someplace quieter, next time."

Back home, she was used to being stared at; blue skin wasn't normal. She'd had to develop an acute sense of it as she was quite wanted by the law in her own time, so much that she booked passage and other arrangements under her mother's name as her own would instantly send red flags up. A part of her had very much enjoyed not having to worry about the name Amélie Lacroix drawing unwanted attention (save for ex-Overwatch agents) while in the service of the Legion. But this fame was so much different than anything she could've expected. People wanted to get close to her. It was so bizarre.

"We are certainly are..." Between their physical features and the signature tattoos... they were easier to pick out than a good portion of the others. "I agree. Definitely quieter. Though I will have to look into that. This." a gesture to their current surroundings, "was easy and, sadly, quite typical for first dates." Tried and true practice.

"I will need to be more creative in the future." Some place where they won't be asked for autographs and selfies, as was about to happen with their server and a few more of the staff heading their way. So much for dessert.

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