Tamara and Shinobi | Backdated to 09/28
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ax_mainTamara and Shinobi have fancy sushi, a frank conversation, and a moment of intimacy on Xavier's back lawn.
Text from Shinobi Shaw to Tamara Kurtz:
Shinobi Shaw: Ohayou gozaimasu!
Shinobi Shaw: How's every little thing?
Shinobi Shaw: I was hoping I could tempt you to some ridiculously expensive lunch. Nolan is playing corporate bigwig in his office, and Warren is off being half-naked and beautiful somewhere without me.
Shinobi Shaw: I hate to dine alone, when there's so much fine company available.
Tamara: Hey there - omg, sounds amazing, let's do it!
Tamara: lol as long as I don't have to dress nice -- my wardrobe is tragically limited atm...
Shinobi Shaw: Pshaw. You look wonderful in anything.
Shinobi Shaw: Besides, I'm having it delivered--still a bit jet-lagged, and infatuated with the school.
Shinobi Shaw: We could have a picnic on the grounds? I'm sure you must know of some picturesque spots.
Tamara: Oooo, perfect! You bring the food, I'll dress to impress~
Shinobi Shaw: The food should be delivered in around thirty minutes.
Shinobi Shaw: I look forward to being impressed! Meet you by the back doors in thirty-five.
Tamara: See you soon...
****
Tamara was only five minutes late to meet Shinobi, which spoke to her excitement. Her makeup was absolutely perfect, and bolder than her usual look, and she'd picked an outfit she'd been saving for just the right occasion. She'd left her long brown hair loose, cascading over her shoulders and wings.
And if the shirt was a little low-cut and maybe didn't hide the fact that she'd given up on bras since her wings, well, she'd promised to impress.
Compared to the ensemble he'd worn at the party the other evening, Shinobi's current attire could almost have been said to border on the modest--or, at least, the conventional. Though in a pinstripe-patterned, charcoal gray waistcoat and trousers cut to flatter his slender build, black tailored shirt with the top button strategically undone to convey a little more casualness, and shoes polished to a mirror shine, he clearly still cared about turning heads, himself. Or, at the very least, earning a second look. He held a large black plastic bag in each hand, clearly weighted down with ... something, though the material made it difficult to tell what. And he grinned in a way that suggested he thought himself very clever, at that moment.
He cocked his head in greeting when he caught sight of Tamara, then looked her over again with marked appreciation. Dressed to impress, indeed--made it awfully difficult for him to concentrate on lunch, in fact. But he still had his manners. "Bonne après-midi, ma chère," he singsonged in greeting. "My, my. You look absolutely stunning, just now. It almost makes me wish we could skip straight to dessert."
Most of his manners.
Tamara returned the appreciative look, letting her eyes linger. Damn, she loved seeing well-dressed men.
"Mm, likewise," she returned, playful smirk tugging at her lips. Regardless of where they decided to start, though, finding a good private spot was step one. "All set?" she asked, giving a curious look at the bags he was holding.
"A meal fit for a king," he confirmed, clearly eager to be off. "Or perhaps more fitting an emperor. Or an empress." Shinobi shrugged. "The forms of old nobility are a mystery to me. Suffice it to say, I think you will be pleasantly surprised." As much so as he had been by her choice of attire.
"Well come on then," Tamara said, smiling up at him. Her boots, while kick-ass, only gave her two extra inches of height, but at least Shinobi wasn't quite as tall as Warren, so she didn't feel too terribly tiny.
The day was gorgeous and not too hot as Tamara led the way out the door and onto the grounds. Mostly so she could be sure he saw that her back was pretty much entirely exposed (it had to be to accommodate her wings, but why not show it off?), her shirt tied in one knot at her neck and in a second place low on her hips, just beneath the webbing of her wings. Once they were outside she fell in step beside him, wings folded to her back. "I know a spot."
Shinobi spent most of the walk admiring the view (a view that began with Tamara's back, ended points south, and had very little to do with the natural beauty of the grounds. He hummed in a decidedly satisfied way. "I'm sure you do." It was possible he was laying it on a bit thick, considering they'd just met, but the winged girl had seemed game, so far, and he was in no sense gallant enough to give up the game before his playmate even gave a hint of a lack of interest.
Tamara led them to the little clearing she and Tommy had found the other night, just a short distance from where the party had been (and there were technically picnic benches nearby, though Tamara was hoping Shinobi didn't plan to use those.
Pulling into a little spot in the shade, she glanced back at him before turning, catching his eyes on her with a knowing smirk. "Will this do?"
"This will be perfect," Shinobi assured her, surveying the clearing briefly, before settling against the back of one the larger trees which ringed it. "Would you care to see what's on the menu?" he asked her archly, sliding down into a seated position and holding out the two bags as though that had been what he'd been talking about.
"Absolutely." Tamara sat down across from him (carefully - her wings were strong and flexible enough now that they could drape behind her, but those long, thin bones could get jarred pretty easily). She sank to her knees first, letting her wings rest behind her, then slid to one side to get more comfortable. Smiling up at him with just a bit of mischievous challenge, she said, "Go on, impress me."
"Your wish is my command, ma chère," he agreed readily. He dipped into one bag, and produced a blue-laquered box, which he rested on the ground between them. He then pulled a red-laquered box from the other bag. He regarded Tamara appraisingly for a moment. "You're not allergic to seafood or shellfish, are you? If you are, this is going to go from charming interlude to disaster extremely quickly."
Tamara laughed and shook her head, tossing her hair over one shoulder as she looked down at the boxes. "Nope, all good." Looking up at him again with a genuine smile she couldn't quite contain, she asked, "Are we celebrating?"
"In a very general sense," he said. "A sort of celebration of youth, and our capacity to continue to enjoy it. This," he gestured toward the red box, "is the hot sushi. This," he indicated the blue box, "is the cold sushi. It's all delicious. I recommend you try a little of each." He snapped apart a pair of disposable--if still very high-quality--chopsticks that had been provided with the meal, and gestured for her to help herself. "Itadakimasu!"
"Terima kasih," Tamara replied playfully, giving him a little wink. Shinobi wasn't the only one who could play with languages.
She broke her own chopsticks with a relatively familiar move, then helped herself to a piece from the hot box. Taking a bite, her eyes closed in absolute delight, and she hummed a happy sound. "Sedap! What is it?"
"Albacore?" he offered hesitantly. "Probably with a touch of wasabi folded inside, so do mind that." Shinobi shrugged. "As much as I enjoy dining out, I've never been much of a gourmand. For me, it's more about the company than the details of the meal itself. As long as it tastes good--and costs too much--I'm usually satisfied."
He tilted his head slightly with curiosity. "So. A fellow linguist, then? That's delightful. Everyone should be able to flirt effectively in at least two languages. Makes for a better-rounded character."
Swallowing her latest bite, Tamara pouted at him. "Afraid I'm gonna be a disappointment, then," she replied, letting him see that she was at least a little bit hurt, even though she was keeping it playful for now. "My Malay is kid stuff at best. I didn't exactly grow up learning languages and eating extravagantly."
...and it was really, really good food, too, and she really wanted to enjoy it. She held his gaze and her playful pout, but god, she felt like such a poor kid right now. She never let anyone make her feel bad for that, but somehow he'd managed it just by assuming better of her. Dammit. She tried to power through it, shoving the feeling down. "Good fish was just for big celebrations," she added, before popping the last bite of her sushi into her mouth, waiting to see if he'd look at her like trash.
"Well, my Malay is utterly non-existent, so it's not as if I'll know any better," Shinobi replied cheerfully. He hadn't missed the subtle shift in her mood; learning to read people had always been a necessary survival skill for him--especially so, any time he interacted with is father. The insensitivity he normally displayed was mostly that: a display. A fairly convincing one, though. Too much depth, or the wrong kind of cleverness, could be very hazardous things.
"To be honest, I only break out the good fish when I am trying to impress somebody," he continued. When he went on, it was as if confiding some deep, dark secret, his tone dipping low and his dark eyes scanning the vicinity for eavesdroppers. "In fact, my favorite thing is a nice, grilled cheese sandwich--American cheese on white bread--on a cold day. Pair it with some warm tomato soup, and I'll be the happiest corporate mogul's brat you ever did see." He sighed. "The Japanese do many things very well, but comfort foods are not really one of them."
Tamara was smiling, but also watching closely. He hadn't made her feel like trash yet, but was he just being too polite to hide his real thoughts? She'd picked up a few things about rich boy etiquette from being friends (without benefits, ugh...) with Warren.
"Well, Malaysian food is all about peppers and spices," she told him. "Or at least that's the way my mom made it." She looked down, but her smile was real at least as she used her chopsticks to deftly grab a piece of sushi from the cold box this time. "The first time I had a grilled cheese, I was totally confused."
"Peppers and spices are wonderful, of course," he agreed with congenial good humor. "We all need a bit of heat in our lives, neh?" Shinobi plucked a bite of sushi from the hot box to emphasize that point. "But they used to give me grilled cheese from time to time when I still lived with my mother. I suppose a lot of my fondness for it is rooted more deeply in nostalgia than any actual advantages inherent in the dish itself."
Tamara liked the way he was talking now, more genuine and real. She smirked at her own memory of being introduced to grilled cheese. "My mom was working and her boyfriend made me a grilled cheese for dinner. Mike, maybe? Or Frank? One of the nicer ones, anyway."
A thought occurred to her, and she raised an eyebrow at Shinobi. "Wait, have you had all your food made by like, chefs? All your life?"
"Not always personal chefs," he replied, perhaps more than a touch defensively. "I mean, I go out to eat a lot more often, now that I'm no longer in short pants. But ... yes, I suppose that's a reasonably accurate assessment."
"Your mom never cooked for you?" Tamara was honestly shocked. She'd gotten so sick of her mom's food as a kid, once she was old enough to realize that no one else in Arroyo Grande ate like they did, but... it'd always been there. A fact of life, or home life anyway.
That started him blinking, as though he couldn't immediately grasp the significance of the question, or why it would surprise her so. But their experiences had been rather different, he supposed. All Shinobi could do was attempt to explain it without casting himself, or anyone else, in too poor a light.
"Haha--that is to say, Mother--could cook, I think. Very simple things," he seemed to be trying to remember, but not quite able to bring the old memories forward entirely. "I seem to recall overhearing her speaking to one of her sisters about it, once. But it wasn't really appropriate. Her family is extremely invested in appearances and propriety. It was considered beneath her station for her to prepare food, for herself or anybody else."
"Beneath you too then, huh?" It wasn't as aggressive as Tamara was fully capable of being, for once, but more realizing that he must have no idea how to cook. A realization of just how crazy different their worlds were.
She'd been a little stunned, eating and listening to him, but a coy smirk broke through. "If we locked you in the kitchen and told you to fend for yourself, you'd what, starve?"
"It wasn't beneath her," Shinobi corrected, though he wasn't sure just why the distinction was important to make. "It was just extremely discouraged. My grandparents on that side could be very discouraging, you know."
He considered that other question with more seriousness than it probably deserved, then grinned. "As long as there was white bread and American cheese, I think my odds would be something like forty-sixty. And don't forget I can just phase through the wall for takeout, if I need to."
Tamara giggled at the answer, wings fluttering slightly with the motion of it. "Drat! Knew there was a flaw in my plan."
"To be fair, I've been the flaw in a lot of people's plans," Shinobi laughed. "It's nothing personal, I promise."
"I bet that's true," Tamara teased, though she was at least half serious. And hopefully she'd get to hear some of those stories. "Walked through any good walls lately?" Perhaps more importantly, "Can you take people with you?"
"Every wall I walk through is a good wall," he noted, but her second question earned a sideways look. "I've never actually tried," Shinobi said. "Though whenever I've tried to take anything more substantial than my clothes and my smartphone, the results have been ... messy. It seemed prudent not to try it on another person. Why?" His expression grew just a bit sulky. "Kitty can, can't she?"
"I have no idea," Tamara replied, smiling up at him playfully and enjoying his sulk. "Guess you won't be sneaking me in anywhere yet then. Shame."
"I can always sneak you about the old-fashioned way," he offered. "Besides, why would I have to sneak you anywhere? I prefer to make a spectacle of myself."
"I like going where I'm not supposed to," Tamara said, like a promise. "Didn't you read my shirt?"
"I pretended to," he told her impudently, taking another bite of sushi from the cold box. "I was more interested in what was going on under it, to be honest."
"You could always try again," she invited, not even bothering to play at innocent as she leaned back a bit to put herself on easy display. "Spectacles can be good too, of course," she added conversationally, before finishing her latest piece of sushi, letting her genuine pleasure show on her face as she enjoyed it.
Shinobi made a point of studying her torso at great length before meeting her eyes again and shaking his head. "Sorry. Still much more interested in the other stuff. Maybe you could give me the Cliff's Notes version?"
Tamara had been happily watching him watching her, eyes glittering a bit. Leaning forward again to grab another piece - hot this time, something beautiful that she couldn't identify - she offered, "Oh I'm sure you'll figure it out."
"Possibly," he granted. "In time. And if, in the meanwhile, I'm allowed to enjoy the view, it will at least be a most pleasant expenditure of time." He plucked another piece of sushi from the cold box. "For as long as the food holds out, anyway."
Tamara frowned at him. "What, you think you bought the view with food?"
"No," he said carefully. "I mean that eventually, we will starve, with nothing but the view to sustain us. And your faith in my deductive powers keeping us here."
Tamara sighed, now almost feeling like a jerk.
Nothing for it but being direct. "Look, I don't mean to keep being weird about things, I swear. So help me out." Firm but earnest, she frowned up at him. She really wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but equally strong, she didn't want to be used. "Shinobi, I grew up poor, and I don't have a penny beyond what the Professor provides now. Literally nothing.
"And I'm not ashamed of that, at all, but I'm not gonna sit here and pretend it isn't true." Her wings ruffled uncomfortably behind her, but she pushed on. "So help me believe you're not trying to buy me or, I dunno, that you don't think money makes you better than trash like me."
"Better," Shinobi guffawed, retreating into himself a bit. "Better? No. No, that's not usually a thought I would entertain. Money has nothing to do with the quality of a person. My father? Wealthier than Midas and Croesus combined. He has all the class of a dyspeptic grizzly bear. My mother's family? They will never want for anything in this world. But they're awful, contemptible, miserable people." He reached out, touching her forearm lightly. "You are a diamond. If I thought I could buy you, I wouldn't be interested. Nothing that can be bought possesses any lasting value."
Relief had been ebbing through her from his first words, and by the last,Tamara was smiling again. Yeah, she liked him. "Alright then. This is me, letting my guard down."
"Just as enchanting as you with your guard up," he noted. "Though I am glad for the distinction." He sidled up, and bucked a shoulder into hers. "Hey. You and I might never have come together under normal circumstances. But normal circumstances are boring and tiresome, and beneath our notice, at this point. I am perfectly happy to enjoy this completely undeserved good fortune."
"Agreed," Tamara replied, moving her wing to make room for him. He couldn't know how unaccustomed she'd become to being touched, or how much she'd missed it, but she figured it couldn't be too weird to lean into his shoulder a bit now that he was here. With just a hint of smile playing at her lips, she said, "I never wanted to be normal anyway - not when there's so much more fun to have."
"'Normal' is a word most people use to excuse their deplorable lack of imagination," he said merrily, leaning back into her with casual ease. "I want no part of it, personally. Especially as it typically seems more a barrier to fun than an enhancement. Who would want that? Life's much too brief to spend it not having as much fun as can be possibly crammed into it, neh?"
Tamara smiled up at him, not realizing there was some softness in her look.
"No such thing as normal once wings bust out your back," she pointed out. It hadn't exactly been all fun and games since then, but it was getting better every day. "I was stuck on my stomach all summer while my back was healing, but now..." She trailed off, giving him a coy look. "So what do you like to do for fun, Shinobi?"
Shinobi declined to point out that his idea of "normal" was probably hopelessly skewed from the start, even before his mutation had manifested. He'd lived his entire life as an outsider, whether it was in his mother's family's house, Tokyo, Paris, Sebastian's penthouse. It was strange, but this school, with the familiar faces and the delightful new acquaintances, made him feel more at ease after just a few weeks than he could recall in all his years bouncing about. He hoped this didn't mean he was maturing; that would sour the whole thing.
"Oh, anything. Everything." He waved a free hand vaguely, the one closest to Tamara coming to rest on the ground just behind her back, arm gently pressing into her wing. "I'm having fun right now, for example." Not as much as they could have been having, possibly, but he wasn't one to press. Flirting was, in his estimation, a perfectly pleasurable way to pass the time.
"Me too," Tamara replied. She really liked that he didn't shy away from her wings, though maybe being friends with Warren gave him an advantage there.
"Then I'd say a successful outing was had," he grinned. "Wouldn't you?"
"Almost," Tamara replied. One more thing to make it successful. She reached a hand up, slow enough that he could stop her if he wanted, to touch his face, guiding him down for a kiss.
He bent into the kiss readily, free hand moving readily to her waist. This was certainly how he'd been hoping their afternoon would turn out, but he hated to presume. And the reality was so, so much sweeter than imagination. His fingertips traced idly up her side as the kiss deepened, and he leaned further into her wing.
Tamara turned toward him, wing shifting to curl around him more comfortably as her hand moved to his neck, teasing lightly there for the moment before moving to play with his (exquisite) clothes. Her tongue tapped his playfully, inviting.
He more than readily slid his tongue past hers, deepening their kiss even as he sidled closer into the embrace of her wing. His fingers trailed down again, to the hem of her shirt, and slipped familiarly beneath the fabric to touch the bare skin of her side.
Approving of his initiative, and not one to be passive, Tamara hummed into the kiss and took a turn dominating it. She pulled him closer, body arching softly against his, teasing. Waiting to see how he'd respond.
His hand slithered up underneath her shirt, emerging from beneath the collar to cup her throat loosely. Shinobi tilted his face into Tamara's, slipping closer still, until they were pressed side by side. The arm that had once rested behind her back twined around her waist and pulled her more tightly to him.
Tamara arched again, surprised, but in a good way. Mmm, a very good way, Shinobi definitely knew what he was doing. She moaned softly, one arm around his neck and the other tangled in his shirt. She closed off the kiss slowly, sucking his lower lip into her mouth and teasing it thoroughly first. Then she moved her mouth to his jaw, then nipped at the lobe of his ear. "More," she urged, before turning her attention to his neck. "Feels so good."
Given such encouragement, Shinobi wasted no time, his hand moving from her waist to the back of her wing, tracing the skin with sensual deliberation. He kissed his way down her throat to her shoulder, breath heavy, desiring as his mouth moved over her skin. The soft sounds Tamara gave made it all so much more inviting, so much more difficult to continue with the playful banter. "That's all you," he murmured into her skin. "You feel too good." His fingertips slipped back underneath her collar, tracing her centerline briefly before slipping over to her ribs, teasing.
A shiver went through Tamara as he started playing with the inside of her wing, and she let out a soft "Oh!" in surprise. She'd known they were sensitive, but no one had played with them like this before-- "Do that again," she told him, hand in his hair now.
He grinned against her mouth. "Say please," he hissed, even as his fingers started working the sensitive inner skin of her wing with renewed interest. Those reactions were precisely what he'd been looking for.
Usually that was Tamara's line. Instead, she leaned in, pressing tight against him to to purr a challenge in his ear. "Make me..."
"If you insist," Shinobi grinned, tugging her with him as he fell on his back.
Text from Shinobi Shaw to Tamara Kurtz:
Shinobi Shaw: Ohayou gozaimasu!
Shinobi Shaw: How's every little thing?
Shinobi Shaw: I was hoping I could tempt you to some ridiculously expensive lunch. Nolan is playing corporate bigwig in his office, and Warren is off being half-naked and beautiful somewhere without me.
Shinobi Shaw: I hate to dine alone, when there's so much fine company available.
Tamara: Hey there - omg, sounds amazing, let's do it!
Tamara: lol as long as I don't have to dress nice -- my wardrobe is tragically limited atm...
Shinobi Shaw: Pshaw. You look wonderful in anything.
Shinobi Shaw: Besides, I'm having it delivered--still a bit jet-lagged, and infatuated with the school.
Shinobi Shaw: We could have a picnic on the grounds? I'm sure you must know of some picturesque spots.
Tamara: Oooo, perfect! You bring the food, I'll dress to impress~
Shinobi Shaw: The food should be delivered in around thirty minutes.
Shinobi Shaw: I look forward to being impressed! Meet you by the back doors in thirty-five.
Tamara: See you soon...
****
Tamara was only five minutes late to meet Shinobi, which spoke to her excitement. Her makeup was absolutely perfect, and bolder than her usual look, and she'd picked an outfit she'd been saving for just the right occasion. She'd left her long brown hair loose, cascading over her shoulders and wings.
And if the shirt was a little low-cut and maybe didn't hide the fact that she'd given up on bras since her wings, well, she'd promised to impress.
Compared to the ensemble he'd worn at the party the other evening, Shinobi's current attire could almost have been said to border on the modest--or, at least, the conventional. Though in a pinstripe-patterned, charcoal gray waistcoat and trousers cut to flatter his slender build, black tailored shirt with the top button strategically undone to convey a little more casualness, and shoes polished to a mirror shine, he clearly still cared about turning heads, himself. Or, at the very least, earning a second look. He held a large black plastic bag in each hand, clearly weighted down with ... something, though the material made it difficult to tell what. And he grinned in a way that suggested he thought himself very clever, at that moment.
He cocked his head in greeting when he caught sight of Tamara, then looked her over again with marked appreciation. Dressed to impress, indeed--made it awfully difficult for him to concentrate on lunch, in fact. But he still had his manners. "Bonne après-midi, ma chère," he singsonged in greeting. "My, my. You look absolutely stunning, just now. It almost makes me wish we could skip straight to dessert."
Most of his manners.
Tamara returned the appreciative look, letting her eyes linger. Damn, she loved seeing well-dressed men.
"Mm, likewise," she returned, playful smirk tugging at her lips. Regardless of where they decided to start, though, finding a good private spot was step one. "All set?" she asked, giving a curious look at the bags he was holding.
"A meal fit for a king," he confirmed, clearly eager to be off. "Or perhaps more fitting an emperor. Or an empress." Shinobi shrugged. "The forms of old nobility are a mystery to me. Suffice it to say, I think you will be pleasantly surprised." As much so as he had been by her choice of attire.
"Well come on then," Tamara said, smiling up at him. Her boots, while kick-ass, only gave her two extra inches of height, but at least Shinobi wasn't quite as tall as Warren, so she didn't feel too terribly tiny.
The day was gorgeous and not too hot as Tamara led the way out the door and onto the grounds. Mostly so she could be sure he saw that her back was pretty much entirely exposed (it had to be to accommodate her wings, but why not show it off?), her shirt tied in one knot at her neck and in a second place low on her hips, just beneath the webbing of her wings. Once they were outside she fell in step beside him, wings folded to her back. "I know a spot."
Shinobi spent most of the walk admiring the view (a view that began with Tamara's back, ended points south, and had very little to do with the natural beauty of the grounds. He hummed in a decidedly satisfied way. "I'm sure you do." It was possible he was laying it on a bit thick, considering they'd just met, but the winged girl had seemed game, so far, and he was in no sense gallant enough to give up the game before his playmate even gave a hint of a lack of interest.
Tamara led them to the little clearing she and Tommy had found the other night, just a short distance from where the party had been (and there were technically picnic benches nearby, though Tamara was hoping Shinobi didn't plan to use those.
Pulling into a little spot in the shade, she glanced back at him before turning, catching his eyes on her with a knowing smirk. "Will this do?"
"This will be perfect," Shinobi assured her, surveying the clearing briefly, before settling against the back of one the larger trees which ringed it. "Would you care to see what's on the menu?" he asked her archly, sliding down into a seated position and holding out the two bags as though that had been what he'd been talking about.
"Absolutely." Tamara sat down across from him (carefully - her wings were strong and flexible enough now that they could drape behind her, but those long, thin bones could get jarred pretty easily). She sank to her knees first, letting her wings rest behind her, then slid to one side to get more comfortable. Smiling up at him with just a bit of mischievous challenge, she said, "Go on, impress me."
"Your wish is my command, ma chère," he agreed readily. He dipped into one bag, and produced a blue-laquered box, which he rested on the ground between them. He then pulled a red-laquered box from the other bag. He regarded Tamara appraisingly for a moment. "You're not allergic to seafood or shellfish, are you? If you are, this is going to go from charming interlude to disaster extremely quickly."
Tamara laughed and shook her head, tossing her hair over one shoulder as she looked down at the boxes. "Nope, all good." Looking up at him again with a genuine smile she couldn't quite contain, she asked, "Are we celebrating?"
"In a very general sense," he said. "A sort of celebration of youth, and our capacity to continue to enjoy it. This," he gestured toward the red box, "is the hot sushi. This," he indicated the blue box, "is the cold sushi. It's all delicious. I recommend you try a little of each." He snapped apart a pair of disposable--if still very high-quality--chopsticks that had been provided with the meal, and gestured for her to help herself. "Itadakimasu!"
"Terima kasih," Tamara replied playfully, giving him a little wink. Shinobi wasn't the only one who could play with languages.
She broke her own chopsticks with a relatively familiar move, then helped herself to a piece from the hot box. Taking a bite, her eyes closed in absolute delight, and she hummed a happy sound. "Sedap! What is it?"
"Albacore?" he offered hesitantly. "Probably with a touch of wasabi folded inside, so do mind that." Shinobi shrugged. "As much as I enjoy dining out, I've never been much of a gourmand. For me, it's more about the company than the details of the meal itself. As long as it tastes good--and costs too much--I'm usually satisfied."
He tilted his head slightly with curiosity. "So. A fellow linguist, then? That's delightful. Everyone should be able to flirt effectively in at least two languages. Makes for a better-rounded character."
Swallowing her latest bite, Tamara pouted at him. "Afraid I'm gonna be a disappointment, then," she replied, letting him see that she was at least a little bit hurt, even though she was keeping it playful for now. "My Malay is kid stuff at best. I didn't exactly grow up learning languages and eating extravagantly."
...and it was really, really good food, too, and she really wanted to enjoy it. She held his gaze and her playful pout, but god, she felt like such a poor kid right now. She never let anyone make her feel bad for that, but somehow he'd managed it just by assuming better of her. Dammit. She tried to power through it, shoving the feeling down. "Good fish was just for big celebrations," she added, before popping the last bite of her sushi into her mouth, waiting to see if he'd look at her like trash.
"Well, my Malay is utterly non-existent, so it's not as if I'll know any better," Shinobi replied cheerfully. He hadn't missed the subtle shift in her mood; learning to read people had always been a necessary survival skill for him--especially so, any time he interacted with is father. The insensitivity he normally displayed was mostly that: a display. A fairly convincing one, though. Too much depth, or the wrong kind of cleverness, could be very hazardous things.
"To be honest, I only break out the good fish when I am trying to impress somebody," he continued. When he went on, it was as if confiding some deep, dark secret, his tone dipping low and his dark eyes scanning the vicinity for eavesdroppers. "In fact, my favorite thing is a nice, grilled cheese sandwich--American cheese on white bread--on a cold day. Pair it with some warm tomato soup, and I'll be the happiest corporate mogul's brat you ever did see." He sighed. "The Japanese do many things very well, but comfort foods are not really one of them."
Tamara was smiling, but also watching closely. He hadn't made her feel like trash yet, but was he just being too polite to hide his real thoughts? She'd picked up a few things about rich boy etiquette from being friends (without benefits, ugh...) with Warren.
"Well, Malaysian food is all about peppers and spices," she told him. "Or at least that's the way my mom made it." She looked down, but her smile was real at least as she used her chopsticks to deftly grab a piece of sushi from the cold box this time. "The first time I had a grilled cheese, I was totally confused."
"Peppers and spices are wonderful, of course," he agreed with congenial good humor. "We all need a bit of heat in our lives, neh?" Shinobi plucked a bite of sushi from the hot box to emphasize that point. "But they used to give me grilled cheese from time to time when I still lived with my mother. I suppose a lot of my fondness for it is rooted more deeply in nostalgia than any actual advantages inherent in the dish itself."
Tamara liked the way he was talking now, more genuine and real. She smirked at her own memory of being introduced to grilled cheese. "My mom was working and her boyfriend made me a grilled cheese for dinner. Mike, maybe? Or Frank? One of the nicer ones, anyway."
A thought occurred to her, and she raised an eyebrow at Shinobi. "Wait, have you had all your food made by like, chefs? All your life?"
"Not always personal chefs," he replied, perhaps more than a touch defensively. "I mean, I go out to eat a lot more often, now that I'm no longer in short pants. But ... yes, I suppose that's a reasonably accurate assessment."
"Your mom never cooked for you?" Tamara was honestly shocked. She'd gotten so sick of her mom's food as a kid, once she was old enough to realize that no one else in Arroyo Grande ate like they did, but... it'd always been there. A fact of life, or home life anyway.
That started him blinking, as though he couldn't immediately grasp the significance of the question, or why it would surprise her so. But their experiences had been rather different, he supposed. All Shinobi could do was attempt to explain it without casting himself, or anyone else, in too poor a light.
"Haha--that is to say, Mother--could cook, I think. Very simple things," he seemed to be trying to remember, but not quite able to bring the old memories forward entirely. "I seem to recall overhearing her speaking to one of her sisters about it, once. But it wasn't really appropriate. Her family is extremely invested in appearances and propriety. It was considered beneath her station for her to prepare food, for herself or anybody else."
"Beneath you too then, huh?" It wasn't as aggressive as Tamara was fully capable of being, for once, but more realizing that he must have no idea how to cook. A realization of just how crazy different their worlds were.
She'd been a little stunned, eating and listening to him, but a coy smirk broke through. "If we locked you in the kitchen and told you to fend for yourself, you'd what, starve?"
"It wasn't beneath her," Shinobi corrected, though he wasn't sure just why the distinction was important to make. "It was just extremely discouraged. My grandparents on that side could be very discouraging, you know."
He considered that other question with more seriousness than it probably deserved, then grinned. "As long as there was white bread and American cheese, I think my odds would be something like forty-sixty. And don't forget I can just phase through the wall for takeout, if I need to."
Tamara giggled at the answer, wings fluttering slightly with the motion of it. "Drat! Knew there was a flaw in my plan."
"To be fair, I've been the flaw in a lot of people's plans," Shinobi laughed. "It's nothing personal, I promise."
"I bet that's true," Tamara teased, though she was at least half serious. And hopefully she'd get to hear some of those stories. "Walked through any good walls lately?" Perhaps more importantly, "Can you take people with you?"
"Every wall I walk through is a good wall," he noted, but her second question earned a sideways look. "I've never actually tried," Shinobi said. "Though whenever I've tried to take anything more substantial than my clothes and my smartphone, the results have been ... messy. It seemed prudent not to try it on another person. Why?" His expression grew just a bit sulky. "Kitty can, can't she?"
"I have no idea," Tamara replied, smiling up at him playfully and enjoying his sulk. "Guess you won't be sneaking me in anywhere yet then. Shame."
"I can always sneak you about the old-fashioned way," he offered. "Besides, why would I have to sneak you anywhere? I prefer to make a spectacle of myself."
"I like going where I'm not supposed to," Tamara said, like a promise. "Didn't you read my shirt?"
"I pretended to," he told her impudently, taking another bite of sushi from the cold box. "I was more interested in what was going on under it, to be honest."
"You could always try again," she invited, not even bothering to play at innocent as she leaned back a bit to put herself on easy display. "Spectacles can be good too, of course," she added conversationally, before finishing her latest piece of sushi, letting her genuine pleasure show on her face as she enjoyed it.
Shinobi made a point of studying her torso at great length before meeting her eyes again and shaking his head. "Sorry. Still much more interested in the other stuff. Maybe you could give me the Cliff's Notes version?"
Tamara had been happily watching him watching her, eyes glittering a bit. Leaning forward again to grab another piece - hot this time, something beautiful that she couldn't identify - she offered, "Oh I'm sure you'll figure it out."
"Possibly," he granted. "In time. And if, in the meanwhile, I'm allowed to enjoy the view, it will at least be a most pleasant expenditure of time." He plucked another piece of sushi from the cold box. "For as long as the food holds out, anyway."
Tamara frowned at him. "What, you think you bought the view with food?"
"No," he said carefully. "I mean that eventually, we will starve, with nothing but the view to sustain us. And your faith in my deductive powers keeping us here."
Tamara sighed, now almost feeling like a jerk.
Nothing for it but being direct. "Look, I don't mean to keep being weird about things, I swear. So help me out." Firm but earnest, she frowned up at him. She really wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but equally strong, she didn't want to be used. "Shinobi, I grew up poor, and I don't have a penny beyond what the Professor provides now. Literally nothing.
"And I'm not ashamed of that, at all, but I'm not gonna sit here and pretend it isn't true." Her wings ruffled uncomfortably behind her, but she pushed on. "So help me believe you're not trying to buy me or, I dunno, that you don't think money makes you better than trash like me."
"Better," Shinobi guffawed, retreating into himself a bit. "Better? No. No, that's not usually a thought I would entertain. Money has nothing to do with the quality of a person. My father? Wealthier than Midas and Croesus combined. He has all the class of a dyspeptic grizzly bear. My mother's family? They will never want for anything in this world. But they're awful, contemptible, miserable people." He reached out, touching her forearm lightly. "You are a diamond. If I thought I could buy you, I wouldn't be interested. Nothing that can be bought possesses any lasting value."
Relief had been ebbing through her from his first words, and by the last,Tamara was smiling again. Yeah, she liked him. "Alright then. This is me, letting my guard down."
"Just as enchanting as you with your guard up," he noted. "Though I am glad for the distinction." He sidled up, and bucked a shoulder into hers. "Hey. You and I might never have come together under normal circumstances. But normal circumstances are boring and tiresome, and beneath our notice, at this point. I am perfectly happy to enjoy this completely undeserved good fortune."
"Agreed," Tamara replied, moving her wing to make room for him. He couldn't know how unaccustomed she'd become to being touched, or how much she'd missed it, but she figured it couldn't be too weird to lean into his shoulder a bit now that he was here. With just a hint of smile playing at her lips, she said, "I never wanted to be normal anyway - not when there's so much more fun to have."
"'Normal' is a word most people use to excuse their deplorable lack of imagination," he said merrily, leaning back into her with casual ease. "I want no part of it, personally. Especially as it typically seems more a barrier to fun than an enhancement. Who would want that? Life's much too brief to spend it not having as much fun as can be possibly crammed into it, neh?"
Tamara smiled up at him, not realizing there was some softness in her look.
"No such thing as normal once wings bust out your back," she pointed out. It hadn't exactly been all fun and games since then, but it was getting better every day. "I was stuck on my stomach all summer while my back was healing, but now..." She trailed off, giving him a coy look. "So what do you like to do for fun, Shinobi?"
Shinobi declined to point out that his idea of "normal" was probably hopelessly skewed from the start, even before his mutation had manifested. He'd lived his entire life as an outsider, whether it was in his mother's family's house, Tokyo, Paris, Sebastian's penthouse. It was strange, but this school, with the familiar faces and the delightful new acquaintances, made him feel more at ease after just a few weeks than he could recall in all his years bouncing about. He hoped this didn't mean he was maturing; that would sour the whole thing.
"Oh, anything. Everything." He waved a free hand vaguely, the one closest to Tamara coming to rest on the ground just behind her back, arm gently pressing into her wing. "I'm having fun right now, for example." Not as much as they could have been having, possibly, but he wasn't one to press. Flirting was, in his estimation, a perfectly pleasurable way to pass the time.
"Me too," Tamara replied. She really liked that he didn't shy away from her wings, though maybe being friends with Warren gave him an advantage there.
"Then I'd say a successful outing was had," he grinned. "Wouldn't you?"
"Almost," Tamara replied. One more thing to make it successful. She reached a hand up, slow enough that he could stop her if he wanted, to touch his face, guiding him down for a kiss.
He bent into the kiss readily, free hand moving readily to her waist. This was certainly how he'd been hoping their afternoon would turn out, but he hated to presume. And the reality was so, so much sweeter than imagination. His fingertips traced idly up her side as the kiss deepened, and he leaned further into her wing.
Tamara turned toward him, wing shifting to curl around him more comfortably as her hand moved to his neck, teasing lightly there for the moment before moving to play with his (exquisite) clothes. Her tongue tapped his playfully, inviting.
He more than readily slid his tongue past hers, deepening their kiss even as he sidled closer into the embrace of her wing. His fingers trailed down again, to the hem of her shirt, and slipped familiarly beneath the fabric to touch the bare skin of her side.
Approving of his initiative, and not one to be passive, Tamara hummed into the kiss and took a turn dominating it. She pulled him closer, body arching softly against his, teasing. Waiting to see how he'd respond.
His hand slithered up underneath her shirt, emerging from beneath the collar to cup her throat loosely. Shinobi tilted his face into Tamara's, slipping closer still, until they were pressed side by side. The arm that had once rested behind her back twined around her waist and pulled her more tightly to him.
Tamara arched again, surprised, but in a good way. Mmm, a very good way, Shinobi definitely knew what he was doing. She moaned softly, one arm around his neck and the other tangled in his shirt. She closed off the kiss slowly, sucking his lower lip into her mouth and teasing it thoroughly first. Then she moved her mouth to his jaw, then nipped at the lobe of his ear. "More," she urged, before turning her attention to his neck. "Feels so good."
Given such encouragement, Shinobi wasted no time, his hand moving from her waist to the back of her wing, tracing the skin with sensual deliberation. He kissed his way down her throat to her shoulder, breath heavy, desiring as his mouth moved over her skin. The soft sounds Tamara gave made it all so much more inviting, so much more difficult to continue with the playful banter. "That's all you," he murmured into her skin. "You feel too good." His fingertips slipped back underneath her collar, tracing her centerline briefly before slipping over to her ribs, teasing.
A shiver went through Tamara as he started playing with the inside of her wing, and she let out a soft "Oh!" in surprise. She'd known they were sensitive, but no one had played with them like this before-- "Do that again," she told him, hand in his hair now.
He grinned against her mouth. "Say please," he hissed, even as his fingers started working the sensitive inner skin of her wing with renewed interest. Those reactions were precisely what he'd been looking for.
Usually that was Tamara's line. Instead, she leaned in, pressing tight against him to to purr a challenge in his ear. "Make me..."
"If you insist," Shinobi grinned, tugging her with him as he fell on his back.
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Date: 2017-10-02 10:17 pm (UTC)But this was great - especially how Tamara cleared the air about the money issue.
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Date: 2017-10-02 10:39 pm (UTC)Still weird, Shen, that's fair. XD But she likes Shinobi, and she doesn't want to miss out on anything again... So really it's Warren's fault. Yup. *tosses him under a bus*
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Date: 2017-10-02 10:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-10-02 10:55 pm (UTC)...but she is a little awful, like, "I didn't realize you'd staked a claim on him" awful. >.>
Yeah, they've got a really messy conversation coming up...
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Date: 2017-10-02 11:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-10-02 11:05 pm (UTC)Although ... the more he thinks about it, the more it seems kind of kinky.
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Date: 2017-10-02 11:12 pm (UTC)(though she would then argue the same point, for the record)