ArchivedLogs:Curry and Conversation

Curry and Conversation
Both are good
Dramatis Personae Aloke, Mallory	2013-10-09 A home cooked dinner, as promised.
Location <XS> Aloke's Room - FL3
This is standard teacher’s suite at Xavier’s, in form at least. A little more expansive than the shared student dorms a floor below, this suite includes a small sitting room, a small bedroom, and a small private bathroom. The sitting room has been made into a fairly cozy space. Just inside the door is a small side table set by itself in a relatively prominent position in the room, where one could easily visit either on the way in, or out. A skilled, hand-painted, 8x10 image of Lakshmi sits on the table, leaning against the wall. Just in front of the painting is a shallow, silver bowl of water with brightly colored flower petals floating on the surface. The bowl is flanked a pair of white candles. Also in the room is a small, square, dark wood table with two upholstered, antique style chairs. In the other corner is a loveseat, a recliner chair, and a small ottoman that looks like it can probably store things inside. The sitting area is placed on a large round rug, done in blues and oranges to resemble a star sand mandala. A rolled up blue foam yoga mat is trying to hide behind the loveseat as well. The room is otherwise unadorned. Aloke has been cooking for the better part of two hours this afternoon. Now it’s almost seven, and he has everything laid out on the table. Theoretically at least, Mallory should be here any minute. Aloke has laid out steaming bowls of channa masala, a plate of naan in the middle of the table, and two glasses of thick, mango lassi. A little incongruous are the two water bottles on the table. Either he ran out of glasses, or just ways to carry things back to his room. Aloke himself seems fairly put together. The fifty-something man (we’re not /exactly/ sure of his biological age now) has tamed his unruly, curly hair down for the most part. He’s wearing a crisp white shirt with the top button undone, which stands out even more against his dark brown skin. He’s also wearing white linen pants, and no shoes. As of right now, he’s lounging lengthwise on the loveseat, rereading the same paragraph in a book because he can’t seem to focus. If nothing else, Mallory is punctual, perhaps just a few moments early. The impact of her hooves on the floor is actually blissfully muffled by the carpet, for the most part, and she approaches Aloke's door without the preceding noise that usually accompanies her movements around the school. She stops in front of the door in question, nervously shifting her weight as she does, going over last minute worries, concerns, and double checking that she is not in the middle of some horrible dream in which she leaves her apartment unclothed. Her tail twitches slightly in agitation as she glances down again to confirm that she is in fact, wearing clothing. The small, clear box of pastries is balanced carefully in one hand, allowing her a chance to smooth out the non-existent wrinkles from the fitted sweater dress she wears - the heathered gray wool springing back into place repeatedly as she brushes at it nervously. Even after work hours, she dresses sharply, the relatively conservative hem on her dress falling just below her knees, although the flattering cut shows off her pleasantly curved figure. A thin black belt with a shiny gold-tone buckle sits just at her waist, above the added gusset at the back of the dress to allow her tail freedom of motion. The deep cowl neckline of the dress shows off delicate collar bones, and the simple teardrop shaped Roman glass pendant in sparkling, fiery reds and gold on a thin gold chain at the hollow of her throat - a pair of matching tear drop earrings hang from her earlobes, just below the points of her jet black horns. Her hair, for once, is not pulled back into the severe bun it usually is, but is instead mostly down, some of it falling to cover the base of her horns before being pulled back in a dainty golden comb at the back of her head; the rest falls in soft, shining ebony waves, nearly to the small of her back. The faintest dusting of shimmering dark orange eyeshadow brings out the faint orange glow within her dark eyes, her naturally wine colored lips shining with a clear gloss. A shaky breath catches in her throat, as she raises her hand to gently rap on the door, wincing slightly at the echoing sound in the empty hallway. To keep from fidgeting too badly, Mallory holds the tiny clear pastry box in both hands, waiting patiently. Aloke springs off of the couch when the door is knocked, thrilled to be freed from the purgatory of nervous reading. However, even in as good shape as he is, Aloke is not as agile as he used to be. He jams a toe against the wooden foot of the little couch, and curses much more loudly than he meant to, and drops his hardback book with a clatter on the wood floor. He clamps his mouth shut and takes a moment, flexing his toes to make sure nothing is broken, even though it feels like his foot should be in a hundred pieces at the moment. He inspects the foot briefly, sees no blood and sighs. He takes a deep breath, retrieves the book and puts it on the ottoman, and walks to the door, already not needing to limp. Aloke pulls the door open with a broad smile and says, “Hi, sorry about that. Minor… furniture malfu-” Aloke blinks, taking in Mallory’s appearance. “Wow. You look... incredible. I’m sorry, I’m a little underdressed.” He smiles warmly, eyes glowing brightly. “But they know me here, so maybe they’ll still give us a table.” Aloke glances back at the little sitting room turned bistro, and stands back, holding open the door. “Can I take that for you?” he asks, nodding at the box. “Did you have any trouble finding the place?” He grins. The sound of crashing, thumping, and then cursing brings a concerned look to Mallory’s features, and she presses a hand gently against the door, starting to ask, “Are you o--” But then the door opens, revealing an uninjured Aloke, and Mallory blushes slightly, dropping her hand back to hold the pastry box again. “You alright? I hope I didn’t startle you, I…” her voice trails off and she blushes again, a deeper red rising to her cheeks, “Th… thank you. If I’m over dressed, I can go change into something a little less, uh, stuffy, I suppose. I’m willing to make the long and harrowing trek back to my own place, if I over did it.” Mallory flashes a fanged smile, chuckling slightly and glancing back down the hall to her own room, before stepping through the open door and carefully maneuvering around so as to not knock over anything with her tail. “That said, I don’t think you are under dressed at all. Quite dashing looking, really,” she says lightly, looking at him, with a warm smile, “Can’t imagine you’d have any difficulty at all getting into a swanky place such as this.” The offer to take the pastry box gets a nod, and she holds it out to him, “It’s from a little shop the next town over. Promise - no wandering around the city like a fool for the sake of sugary treats this time.” Mallory pauses and grins, taking a deep breath and glancing at the table, “Oh, goodness. That smells, and looks, /amazing./ Wow.” “Oh no,” Aloke says, taking the pastry box to sit on top of his book, on the ottoman. The table really isn’t big enough for everything. “You don’t need to change, you look great. Besides, you’ll be stuck in traffic forever.” He grins and moves back to shut the door. Shrugging, he tries to play off the compliment to the food. “Well, if it’s any good, you can thank my dad. It’s his special recipe. I just followed the instructions.” Aloke crosses back to the little mini fridge, and pulls out a bottle of vin jaune, and sets it on top of the fridge next to two long-stemmed wine glasses he must have pilfered from the dining room. The stems should help preserve the chill of the wine at least, from Mallory’s skin temperature. He holds up the bottle and asks, “Do you want a glass? Most people don’t pair wine with masala, but I’ve actually found this to be a pretty good match.” Mallory looks a touch relieved when Aloke says there’s no need to change, and she chuckles, “Thanks. Traffic was just horrid on the way over. And besides - my wardrobe seems to have two settings anymore - uptight librarian, and lounging post-graduate student. I figured I’d err on the side of not wearing pajama pants on a date.” Her smile seems to come a bit more naturally, as the initial nervousness fades, but she still fidgets slightly with her now empty hands. When offered wine, she pauses for a moment, and considers, “Hm. If you think it suits the food, I’ll give it a try. Been some time since I had wine, actually.” Aloke watches Mallory just a little too long while she speaks, and he blinks when he realizes she finished what she was saying. His eyebrows go up, and he looks back at the wine, embarrassed to be caught staring. “Sorry, I… your… You really look great. And you’d look great, in pajama pants, or no pajama pan-” Aloke’s eyes go wide and he becomes suddenly busy applying the corkscrew to the bottle. He sighs when the bottle is opened, pours both glasses and winds up with double portions actually, but he looks a little flustered and distracted. The skin on the back of his neck, and ears seems a little darker than usual too. He holds out one glass for Mallory, and offers his own to clink with. “To ‘beginnings’.” Mallory looks nothing but pleasantly amused at Aloke's embarrassed chattering, if not a little surprised at the slip. "Oh, I..." she says, fighting the smile that tugs up at the corners of her mouth, before she clears her throat slightly and looks down towards her hooves, perhaps to hide the dark red blush flooding her already flushed cheeks. "Perhaps," she muses quietly, glancing up at Aloke, smirk dancing on her lips, "But it wouldn't exactly be behavior becoming of a librarian to walk about without at least some variety of trousers on." She raises one shapely eyebrow at the amount of wine poured, but doesn't comment on it, accepting the offered glass delicately by the stem, and raising it to clink lightly against Aloke's glass, "To beginnings." Aloke takes a sip and smiles. It would seem that the brightness of Aloke’s eye-shine is related to his emotional state. His eyes grow quite bright indeed when Mallory discusses the idea of proper dress. He looks down at his wine, and the light from his eyes refracts through the unique yellow-colored wine. He blinks and takes a deep breath, his eyes dimming slightly as he recovers. He sets his glass on the table, and moves to pull out a chair for Mallory. He helps her adjust the open-backed wooden chair, which has a plank across the upper back, but is open at the bottom. Once he’s sure she’s comfortable, Aloke takes his own seat, puts his napkin in his lap and gestures at the food. “So yeah, the masala - if it’s no good, that’s on me. The naan though,” Aloke puts on a faux serious face and says, “The naan… is /store/ bought. I just warmed it up. Please don’t tell my dad.” He smirks, winks and picks up the glass of thick orange drink. “This is just mango lassi. I hope you like mango.” Smiling, Mallory takes a dainty sip from her wine glass, dark eyes watching Aloke with curiosity, perhaps lingering a few moments to long as the light from his eyes shimmers through the wine. “Oh,” she breathes reverently, watching the scintillation of the light for a moment longer before ducking her head, realizing that she was staring, perhaps just a touch slack jawed. She sets her glass of wine down on the table, accepting Aloke’s help getting situated in the chair, letting her tail stretch out behind her through the back of the chair. Her careful, upright posture is that of someone who had to sit through years of lessons on proper etiquette and behavior. She smirks lightly as she sets her napkin in her lap, smoothing it out gently, glancing at the food, “I am quite certain it will be delicious.” A light chuckle escapes her lips at the concern over the naan, nodding solemnly, “Your secret is safe with me. You have my word - not a peep.” The mention of mango lassi gets a bright smile, “Oh! I had hoped that was what it was. I haven’t had it since I arrived stateside. Tried making it myself, once or twice, but I end up adding far too much cardamom, and it just never turns out quite right.” There’s a slight smirk, and a self deprecating chuckle, “My skills in the kitchen tend to leave quite a bit to be desired, I’m afraid.” Aloke’s own posture is also relatively straight backed, but it’s much more the style of someone used to dance, or yoga, for instance, rather than real formal etiquette training. His eyebrows pop up as he gets settled into his seat. “Oh, I almost forgot…” He fishes his phone out, looks for something for a brief moment, and eventually music begins to come out of the small wireless speakers set on the window sill. At first it just sounds like classical, orchestral music, but a fan of rock or punk may note that they are actually orchestral arrangements of more modern songs. They’re not strict analogs, and the melody can be hard to follow sometimes, but that’s what’s on. “Ah well, don’t get your hopes up about my skills. I’m just following directions here.” Aloke chuckles and forks a bite of masala into his mouth. Once he’s washed it down with some more wine, and asks, “So, what drew you to Library Studies?” Mallory chuckles and smiles at the musical selection, nodding appreciatively, “Nice!” She listens to the music for a moment, still grinning, the tip of her tail twitching slightly in time to the beat. She takes a bit of the masala, chewing thoughtfully for a moment before washing it down with a sip of the wine to clear her mouth. “Very tasty. Following instructions or not, /I/ think it tastes good,” Mallory nods with a smile. The question gets a slight tilt of her head, and she finishes her second bite before answering, “Hm. I was not allowed out much as a child - characters in books were my only companions, other than Thomas, really. I read voraciously, and just sort of grew up loving books. The chance to be surrounded by them constantly, and get paid to encourage others to read?” She chuckles and smiles, shrugging slightly, “I didn’t actually expect to be able to get a job doing what I love, but here I am.” Taking a sip from the mango lassi, and smiling with an almost giddy glee for a moment, glancing at the beverage, she nods to Aloke, “So, what drew you to art? Or have you always been just that amazingly good at it?” Aloke smiles at her enthusiasm for the music, raising an eyebrow when she recognizes the music. He nods his approval, and then ducks his head in appreciation when Mallory compliments the food, a little shy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He looks up again when she describes her history a bit, and listens attentively, eating idly. Aloke grins at Mallory's enthusiasm for the lassi, and then really smiles when she sets the glass down as asks about him. First, he taps the side of his own lip in the international sign for, you've got a little bit of a mango-lassi-mustache, and then just barrels into his story. He blushes at her compliment. "Well yeah, sort of, I guess? I mean, I was drawing early on. And then just…" Aloke laughs and shakes his head, "Wow, I never realized how /boring/ my story is. 'I drew. Kept drawing. Then I drew some more. And painted.'" He laughs out loud, and takes another bite of food, washing it down with wine. A confused look meets the implied warning about the mango-lassi-mustache, and Mallory blinks uncertainly for a moment, before blushing in realization and dabbing away the leftover beverage with the corner of her napkin. “Thanks,” she mutters in response, looking sheepish. She clears her throat and takes another bite of the food, sipping at her wine to wash it down as she listens to Aloke’s story. She smiles and laughs lightly, shaking her head, “I think if you minimize it /that/ much anyone’s story could be called boring. I mean, mine is pretty much, I read, read some more. Made an attempt at writing poetry. Set that on fire. Then went back to reading.” Mallory smiles and laughs, taking another sip of wine, her posture actually starting to relax a little bit as the meal continues. "Ah, well, true enough," Aloke says with an apologetic smile. "So ok, lets' see… Well, in spite of a failed rebellious stage in high school, which only lasted about six months, by the way, I actually managed a scholarship to NYAA." He seems a little embarrassed to say so much about his accomplishments, but soldiers on. "I focused on painting, and got enough notice to show in some Manhattan galleries. Luckily I could hide this," Aloke gestures at his eyeshine. "With a pair of sunglasses. People just figured I was pretentious, which apparently is /fine/ in the art world." He laughs, and sips his wine, thinking for a moment. "So anyway, that led to my MFA work, which landed me a professorship at NYU. I was teaching there when Xavier found me, just, what… about six months ago? Honestly, I wonder if he knew my abilities were fritzing out even then. I mean, it took a long time for it all to get actually out of control… but I dunno." He shrugs and looks thoughtful a moment. "I'm glad it happened here. And I'm glad I got to meet you." He holds her gaze for an intimately long moment before glancing back down at his glass. Then his eyes pop back up, remembering. "Hang on, back up a second. Did you say you write poetry?" Mallory looks considerably impressed as she listens to the slightly more detailed tale of Aloke’s past, a bemused grin crossing her lips as he continues. “Oh, wow,” she says smiling brightly, “See, more details make it considerably interesting. Although I have a hard time picturing you being described as pretentious. Rebellious, possibly.” She blushes faintly, returning his gaze with a shy, slightly nervous smile, “I’m quite happy we met, too. And that… you were in a safe place when everything happened.” Mallory takes a deep breath and a sip of wine, as the color fades from her cheeks at the memory of the worry about him after the incident. The deep red blush returns in full force, and then some, creeping up towards her ears as he asks about the poetry. Mallory tries to hide it behind a perhaps slightly /too/ large bite of naan, unable to look up at him for a moment. Once she successfully clears her mouth and takes another pull of wine, she glances up, cheeks still flushed, “I said I attempted. It was… not very good. Very angry, bitter. The early stuff was typical teen angst. It was destroyed in the second fire.” Her gaze drops down to her plate, her voice quiet, “I wrote sonnets and such in university. They're… not very good. Less angry. Still a touch bitter. I haven’t written in some time, though.” "Well sure," Aloke says, smiling eagerly. "Of course it was bitter, it was /high school/. You should see my drawings from back then. God, they were awful. Too bad they burned though. I'd give a pinky to see some of them." He grins, and sits back, temporarily forgetting about his food. "Do you really have /nothing/ of that stuff left? I mean, I could /probably/ scare up some of my old sketchbooks, if you wanted to trade. A 'show you mine, if you show me yours' kind of thi- oh my god." Aloke sighs and rolls his eyes up which are shining bright enough to cast weak circles of light at the ceiling. "I definitely did /not/ just say that…" Aloke covers his face with one hand, chuckling silently. Mallory grimaces slightly and chuckles, “I can check - but I honestly don’t have much left from before I was allowed to go to University,” her grimace fades to a guilty look, and she settles back in her chair slightly, toying with the edge of her napkin, “Not something I’m proud of, but it was a fairly destructive fire. Took out the vast majority of the wing of rooms that belonged to Thomas and myself as children. I… saved most of his stuff. Not so much with mine.” She offers a slightly guilty look to Aloke, shrugging helplessly, “If Thomas goes back to England for the holidays, I’ll have him check to see if any of my notebooks are still in the library at the estate.” An amused grin tugs at the corners of her mouth at the slip, and she giggles lightly, “Of course. Consider… ah, consider us even for that rack comment I made back on the mountain.” She coughs, blushing, and running a hand anxiously along one horn, watching Aloke’s embarrassment with a bemused smile. Aloke is reminded of Mallory's remark and actually laughs out loud. His laugh seems to release all the embarrassed, nervous tension he was holding on to, and he's finally relaxed. Oddly, his posture is still quite good, but it's the posture of someone who's back is so strong and healthy, they just naturally sit upright. "Well ok, that's fair. I'm sorry to hear about the fire though. That must have been terrifying for you." Aloke regards Mallory sympathetically, and leans forward slightly. "Was it.. when you first found out?" What starts as a giggle soon swells to a hearty laugh, as Mallory relaxes her posture a bit more, taking another sip of wine as she does, her food also forgotten for the time being. Her posture, however, is rather poor now that she is apparently not focusing actively on it - betraying the back pain she typically manages to mask. The question begets another grimace, and she looks down at a point on the table between the two of them, a nervous chuckle escaping her lips, “Ah, no. This was, well, the second time. First time was utterly terrifying,” she shudders at the memory, glancing up at Aloke, “I can tell you that story, perhaps another time, probably not over dinner, though. I don’t want to keep secrets from you, but it is something that involves Thomas’s past as much as it involves my own.” The soft statement has an edge of sincerity, albeit the tiniest hint of remembered pain creeping through. She takes a deep breath, and a fortifying sip of wine, looking at Aloke and holding his gaze while she talks, “The fire I was referencing was a good few years later. Thomas and I were about 17 or so. He had already been enrolled in Cambridge for University. And I was told I could not attend, because I’d be a disgrace to the family. I would besmirch their good name, being as obvious as I am.” She clears her throat, dropping her gaze again, toying with the corner of her napkin again, her embarrassment obvious as she continues, quietly, “I was furious. And, ah, I immolated. Not entirely unplanned - I’d taken time to stash everything of Thomas’s out in the gardens where it would be safe. No one was hurt, physically, anyway - but, it was probably one of the most foolish, utterly stupid things I’ve ever done in my life.” "That's ok, I understand," Aloke says, when Mallory wants to delay part of her story. He leans closer though when she begins to talk about the circumstances of the fire. He looks down and nods, sighing as she describes having to turn down Cambridge. Scooting his chair around to the side of the table, Aloke rests his hand over Mallory's, food completely forgotten for the moment. "That must have been awful for you. I can't even imagine what that must have been like." Aloke is quiet for a long moment, squeezing Mallory's hand gently. "Although, I have to say," he begins softly. "If it led to you coming here. And us meeting. I'm glad it worked out the way it did." Aloke sits quietly, perhaps out of things to say, or just unsure of what to say, instead just being present. Mallory smiles slightly at the touch, turning her hand palm up to return the squeeze as she finishes her story. Her skin is comfortably warm to the touch, as though she had been holding a steaming cup of tea recently, leaving lingering heat behind. Dark eyes seem unwilling to meet Aloke’s gaze for a moment, but she glances up at his last statement, smile broadening as she does. “It was not my proudest moment, or perhaps the best reaction. But it served its purpose - I was allowed to attend a smaller University, and granted some freedom for the first time in my life. Took me forever and a day, but I finished my degrees - and, well, now here I am,” she says, voice brightening as she talks, gently squeezing Aloke’s hand again, brushing her thumb against the back of his hand, “I’d say, all things considered, I’m quite happy with where things have led.” She seems quite content to sit there, hand in hand with him, meal entirely forgotten once again. Aloke's breath catches slightly when Mallory gives him that broad smile, and he just comes to a halt, lost for a moment. When he takes another breath, he starts to same something, but instead reaches his free hand up to gently touch the side Mallory's neck, and then he leans in and presses his lips to hers. He lingers there a long moment, before he slowly pulls away and sits back in his chair, still holding her hand. "I uh…" Aloke searches her face, checking to see if he'd overstepped, and adds, "I'm sorry, I've been wanting to do that for weeks. I hope it's not too…" He trails off with a shy smile, out of words. The light in his eyes is exceptionally bright now, and even seems to be glowing from inside his nose and mouth a little. When he blinks, his eyelids glow. There is a surprised gasp from Mallory as Aloke leans in, though she happily leans into the kiss, raising her free hand to gently brush her fingers through his hair as the kiss lingers. Her cheeks are flushed, her dark eyes wide - this close it is quite possible to see the faint orange glow behind her own eyes, though no where near as brilliant as his. “Oh, my. I…” Mallory sits back, a pleased smile on her lips, “Goodness, please don’t apologize. That…” she smiles happily, sitting back into her chair, still happily holding onto his hand, “Was something I’d been rather wanting to do, too.” Her gaze drops demurely at that admission, though her fanged smile is still decidedly contented. Any tension or nervousness that had been in the air over dinner seems to have melted away, as the conversation turns to lighter topics as the evening wears on. The meal may have been forgotten, but the talk and laughter continues into the evening, well into the small hours of the morning.