Post by Logan Blackwood on Nov 25, 2013 13:47:20 GMT -5
1817 Hours
The Passenger
Downtown; Washington DC
It was a relatively short walk back to the Passenger, from the gardens. Logan kept the pace leisurely as they progressed. They had decided to get a bite to eat - and while Logan wasn't exactly hungry, he hadn't eaten since returning to the states earlier that morning. Jetlag had a habit of killing his appetite. Still, he knew he needed to get some food in him, and he wasn't particularly done drinking for the evening. He figured though, that he'd lay off the hard alcohol for the time being - he still had a relatively long drive back home, if he didn't make other arrangements. A hotel might be nice, considering the long curvy roads that lead to his retreat in Maryland. He didn't exactly fancy hitting a deer or anything.
As they arrived, Logan unlocked his car door from his keyfob, and walked to the passenger side door, pulling it open in offering for the young lady in his company. He was a gentleman through-and-through, although he never let his chivalrous makings inconvenience a girl. There was a line to be drawn, of course. Hold doors for them, unless you have to go out of your way to do so. Pulling out a chair every once in a while is nice, while too often and it can be annoying. Basically, lay it on too thick and they will feel useless - like a trophy. Logan understood that Azalea was not delicate, at least not all the time.
"I'll return shortly my dear, just need to get my card back from inside," he said, leaving her only momentarily. He hurried inside the bar, and approached the bartender. "I'd like to settle up," he said. It was a slow night, so he wasn't ripping the young man away from small talk or conversation. Just a moment later he returned, with Logan's card, and a couple slips of paper. Logan jotted down a tip, and signed his name, before sliding it to the barkeep and saying "have a great night"
Just like that, Logan was back outside, walking around the front of his Cadillac CTS-V wagon, the pearly white paint glimmered in the light of the lamp post that loomed over it. Azalea, he could see, through the front window, looked lovely - juxtaposed against the pearly white leather and black wood trim. He opened the driver's side door, and rolled himself down into the seat, feeling the leather side bolsters hugging him. He smiled at Azalea, a warm and comforting look. Without looking away from her, he pressed the clutch and break pedals down, and turned the ignition. The guttural roar of the big engine was muffled to a low growl by the car's insulation. Logan had a penchant for loud engines.
"Sorry about that, I probably should have settled up before we left earlier," he said. It was a true irony, as the place he had in mind was only perhaps 2 blocks from the gardens they had just left. He guided the stick over and up, into reverse, as the car's navi-screen rose out of the center of the dash, and displayed the back-up camera. Logan eased her back just enough, and shifted into first. With a check in his mirror, he turned the wheel all the way, and u-turned out of the spot, towards New York Avenue.
1825 Hours
Occidental Grill and Seafood
Washington, DC
Not too long after - they found themselves parked across from the Occidental. It was a great restaurant - serving a mix of fresh new England seafood, and steakhouse fare. It was a solid choice when one doesn't know the others' tastes. He shut off the car, and stepped out. He allowed Azalea to get out herself, not wanting to push the limits quite yet. Taking her hand again, the pair walked across the street, and into the restaurant.
Logan adored this place. Washington was a bit too touristy to have many real honest seafood joints. Lots of things that were your average Joe's crab shack, with seafood that was of questionable freshness. Of course, you could get good food there, but it was always a toss up. Very much like the passenger, this place had an old world feel to it. Leather and wood, tablecloths, and damn good food.
The hostess directed them to a table for two, against one of the large Victorian looking windows. The ambiance was dark, but not too much, and dim crystal lighting populated the room. It was almost too romantic - but Logan had a feeling that Azalea wasn't used to romantics. As he took his seat, he looked to the hostess - "I'd like to start out with a bottle of Alberino," he wasn't sure if Azalea was a fan of dry wines, but in his mind - this particular one paired wonderfully with raw oysters, which he knew was what he was after. "and anything my lovely friend here might want," he said with a smile as the lady placed the menus on the table.
Logan wasn't trying to be showy with anything he had done tonight. It worried him that Azalea would fear he was irresponsibly throwing money around to impress her. He had spent his years in the military living fairly Austere, as he was constantly moving around. He never had much of a girlfriend, so he didn't spend it buying jewelry. Except for once. When he started working at G4S, he was pulling in around one-hundred-thousand annually, but lived much the same. Working at Homeworld Command had been a pay cut, but barely noticeable.
His gaze drifted across the table and into Azalea's eyes, which seemed to be designed to compliment his own.
Tag Azalea "De" Andre
The Passenger
Downtown; Washington DC
It was a relatively short walk back to the Passenger, from the gardens. Logan kept the pace leisurely as they progressed. They had decided to get a bite to eat - and while Logan wasn't exactly hungry, he hadn't eaten since returning to the states earlier that morning. Jetlag had a habit of killing his appetite. Still, he knew he needed to get some food in him, and he wasn't particularly done drinking for the evening. He figured though, that he'd lay off the hard alcohol for the time being - he still had a relatively long drive back home, if he didn't make other arrangements. A hotel might be nice, considering the long curvy roads that lead to his retreat in Maryland. He didn't exactly fancy hitting a deer or anything.
As they arrived, Logan unlocked his car door from his keyfob, and walked to the passenger side door, pulling it open in offering for the young lady in his company. He was a gentleman through-and-through, although he never let his chivalrous makings inconvenience a girl. There was a line to be drawn, of course. Hold doors for them, unless you have to go out of your way to do so. Pulling out a chair every once in a while is nice, while too often and it can be annoying. Basically, lay it on too thick and they will feel useless - like a trophy. Logan understood that Azalea was not delicate, at least not all the time.
"I'll return shortly my dear, just need to get my card back from inside," he said, leaving her only momentarily. He hurried inside the bar, and approached the bartender. "I'd like to settle up," he said. It was a slow night, so he wasn't ripping the young man away from small talk or conversation. Just a moment later he returned, with Logan's card, and a couple slips of paper. Logan jotted down a tip, and signed his name, before sliding it to the barkeep and saying "have a great night"
Just like that, Logan was back outside, walking around the front of his Cadillac CTS-V wagon, the pearly white paint glimmered in the light of the lamp post that loomed over it. Azalea, he could see, through the front window, looked lovely - juxtaposed against the pearly white leather and black wood trim. He opened the driver's side door, and rolled himself down into the seat, feeling the leather side bolsters hugging him. He smiled at Azalea, a warm and comforting look. Without looking away from her, he pressed the clutch and break pedals down, and turned the ignition. The guttural roar of the big engine was muffled to a low growl by the car's insulation. Logan had a penchant for loud engines.
"Sorry about that, I probably should have settled up before we left earlier," he said. It was a true irony, as the place he had in mind was only perhaps 2 blocks from the gardens they had just left. He guided the stick over and up, into reverse, as the car's navi-screen rose out of the center of the dash, and displayed the back-up camera. Logan eased her back just enough, and shifted into first. With a check in his mirror, he turned the wheel all the way, and u-turned out of the spot, towards New York Avenue.
1825 Hours
Occidental Grill and Seafood
Washington, DC
Not too long after - they found themselves parked across from the Occidental. It was a great restaurant - serving a mix of fresh new England seafood, and steakhouse fare. It was a solid choice when one doesn't know the others' tastes. He shut off the car, and stepped out. He allowed Azalea to get out herself, not wanting to push the limits quite yet. Taking her hand again, the pair walked across the street, and into the restaurant.
Logan adored this place. Washington was a bit too touristy to have many real honest seafood joints. Lots of things that were your average Joe's crab shack, with seafood that was of questionable freshness. Of course, you could get good food there, but it was always a toss up. Very much like the passenger, this place had an old world feel to it. Leather and wood, tablecloths, and damn good food.
The hostess directed them to a table for two, against one of the large Victorian looking windows. The ambiance was dark, but not too much, and dim crystal lighting populated the room. It was almost too romantic - but Logan had a feeling that Azalea wasn't used to romantics. As he took his seat, he looked to the hostess - "I'd like to start out with a bottle of Alberino," he wasn't sure if Azalea was a fan of dry wines, but in his mind - this particular one paired wonderfully with raw oysters, which he knew was what he was after. "and anything my lovely friend here might want," he said with a smile as the lady placed the menus on the table.
Logan wasn't trying to be showy with anything he had done tonight. It worried him that Azalea would fear he was irresponsibly throwing money around to impress her. He had spent his years in the military living fairly Austere, as he was constantly moving around. He never had much of a girlfriend, so he didn't spend it buying jewelry. Except for once. When he started working at G4S, he was pulling in around one-hundred-thousand annually, but lived much the same. Working at Homeworld Command had been a pay cut, but barely noticeable.
His gaze drifted across the table and into Azalea's eyes, which seemed to be designed to compliment his own.
Tag Azalea "De" Andre
Hi all