legionworld | 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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"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.

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

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