ArchivedLogs:The Big Night, Part One

The Big Night, Part One
Bad Ideas in Action
Dramatis Personae Alexandrine, Dan	2013-02-22 Date Night.
Location <NYC> The Cabana Club - Midtown
A dinner club straight out of the '50s, one might experience a bit of time-trave vertigo as they step through the polished wood doors and onto the plush maroon carpet. Three low tiers of tables, all draped in crisp, white tablecloths and decked with a candle and a bud vase containing a single rose, face a medium-sized dance floor in front of a large bandstand. Known for both its four-star American classic dining fare and its live entertainment (mostly jazz and big band, although the occasional chanteuse is featured), the Cabana club is a good place to take a date or impress a client. It is the Big Night. The one that has been a source of much anxiety for a certain security guard. But, Dan was on time for his date with Alexandrine, his mind a jumble of thoughts that were silenced when the redhead opened the door and he caught sight of her. He only just managed to remember the single rose he'd brought for her, its clipped end captured neatly in a portable water-filled sleeve. And maybe she didn't notice the way he sort of shoved it at her, or if she did she was too polite to remark on it. Remarkably, he managed not to make too big an ass of himself in complimenting her, and he was further fortunate in that the cab he hailed was cleaner than most. So far, so good he thinks, as they've arrived at their destination, and Dan hops out of the cab first, bending to extend a hand in assistance to Alexandrine. "I really hope you like this place," he says as he helps her out of the cab and moves to pay the driver. "I found it a few years back, but I've never really had a reason to come back." Mostly because it's a place I might have brought Ellen to -- no. That won't work, on a first date. He smiles as he returns, extending his elbow for her to take, if she chooses. "I'm glad I finally found one." He shoved the rose at her? Alex hadn't noticed. Her nerves have been so bad all day, she hasn't been able to keep anyone /out/ of her head that was too worked up or too close... she'd finally indulged in a belt of bourbon a half hour before Dan was supposed to arrive, to help calm down. Her nose had been buried in those delicate, soft petals. a quiet little smile to go with the murmured thank you. She'd worn gray, spent far too long fussing to get her hair into appropriate WWII pin up waves. Alex had blushed at the compliments, a little quieter than usual, perhaps, returning the compliments on the fresh shave. Blue eyes look up at Dan's face as he offers to help her up, that touch, the contact breeching tenuous control, telling her he was thinking of his wife. "Ah never much wait for an excuse to go somewhere. Mainly because then Ah'd never get there." She drawls as she takes his elbow, head cocking as they head in the door. Music would be a boon, right now. Music there is, when Dan pulls open the door, soft and appropriate to a meal, rather than something raucous. Strings and horns smooth their way through a wartime standard ("You'll Never Know"), and waiters move through the main dining room in almost choreographed movement. At the front, a young woman at the podium in a black cocktail dress speaks to an older, well-dressed couple. "This is really more of date kind of place," Dan murmurs as they enter the lobby. "I'd feel funny coming here alone." Indeed, there don't seem to be any single patrons here. Most are like Dan and Alex, couples who are out on dates. A few tables boast a foursome, but not many. The older couple step away, following a young man in a red coat, and the woman turns her attention on the pair in front of her. "Name, please?" she asks, her mind rolling boredly over the couple's appearance. Jesus. The way some people try too hard. Dan steps forward with a friendly, practiced smile. "Reservations for Rourke," he says. "Table for two." The girl makes a show of looking through the book while she mentally goes over her plans to meet her overly-pierced boyfriend at the club. Her eyes skim the register, and she almost misses the name. Then she slams her finger down. "Very good, sir," she says in a pleasant, friendly tone. "Robert will show you to your table." A young man appears, clad in a red jacket and holding two menus. "If you will follow me, please," he says politely, and beelines off into the dining room. Dan lifts his eyebrows amusedly at Alex, and holds out his elbow. Clearly, this show is something he'd forgotten, since his mind is warbling between merriment and romance. "Shall we?" "Ah'm used to bravin' the stares of eatin' alone." Alex murmurs back, a hint of a smile up towards his face, just for him. As for the snotty little hostess, after they're being shown to her table, Alex maybe breaks her cardinal rule... and makes the girl feel horrible things. Only for a second, just enough to make the girl confused. Her chin lifts, a smile for Robert as he shows them to their table. Dan's arm relinquished so she can take a seat, the rose carefully set down on the table so as not to be in the way. She hangs her coat over the back of the chair, before she spreads her napkin in her lap. "But it's lovely, bein' here with you. " Dan is gentleman enough to pull out Alex's chair, and plucks the coat from the back of the chair, adding his own and handing them to Robert, who gives him a chip that he pockets. Dan smiles, and shakes Robert's hand. "Thank you, Robert. Would you ask our waiter to bring us a bottle of wine? Whatever the sommelier recommends tonight." It might sound smooth, but there's a mental quaking going on as the ex-soldier gropes to find the social skills forced upon him late in life. There's a flash of money as their hands part, and Robert disappears, leaving Dan to seat himself. Which he does with a smile, his thoughts steadying as he looks across the table. "So, what do you think, so far?" he asks, nodding at the room. "You kind of expect Frank or Dean to come sauntering on stage, right?" Alex smiles, waiting for Robert to depart to focus solely on Dan's face. "Always kinda liked Dean more. He seemed more fun than Frank. Frank kinda seemed full of himself." She flashes him a grin a moment, fingers reaching to toy with the plastic sleeve of water on the rose. "It's lovely, though. Thank you. Ah might never have heard of it." Nails are are the same scarlet as her lip color this evening, one tapping the plastic sleeve. She tries to be so very subtle, empathy to try and soothe those nerves of his, help him relax. Dan's thoughts are bit stunned at the play of candlelight on Alex's face; the way her scarlet lips glimmer in a way that stirs a long-dormant part of him. He leans on the table, drawing in just a bit -- enough to smell her perfume when the air currents shift just right...what am I doing here? "Dean seemed fun because he was half in the bag, most of the time," he teases, flashing a wide grin at the redhead. Look at the way the candlelight catches the golden strands in her hair...like fire.../focus/. "I'm glad you like it. There's dancing, after the dinner hour." He motions to the menu. "Serving, I mean. They don't serve after 9, so that dancers aren't fighting with waiters." He might have read up on the place, a bit, yesterday. The web pages are clear enough in his thoughts, though they fuzz when the candlelight shifts again. "I bet you've been to a lot of places like this." There's just a hint of pink in her cheeks, his thoughts just loud enough to catch her mental ear. "Hey, if Ah had to live a life where people told me where to be all the time, had to perform like a trained monkey for cameras, Ah'd lean on the vino too." She jokes back, returning that grin. "Ah see. You like dancing, you said. You weren't just trying to get on my sweet side, were you?" Brows lift at that last statement, her head tipping just a bit to the left, letting a wave of hair slide to almost obscure her right eye in a very Veronica Lake style. "Why would you bet that?" Dan smiles, and his thoughts are a mirror of his words. "Because you look like you fit here." The music shifts, the band easing into the gentle strains of 'Moonlight Serenade.' Alexandrine laughs, shaking her head slightly. "Ah just like the era. Ah've never been someplace quite like this. Certainly not in a long time. There are some jazz clubs back home, of course, but.. once Ah got busy with college, never seemed to have time to bug Momma into going.” "You should be in places like this all the time," Dan says, leaning back and picking up his menu. He only glances at it, his thoughts pushing him to drop it and return to looking at Alex. "I would bring you here all the time, if I could." He would, too, if it weren't so damned pricey. Good thing he had some insurance money tucked away.../focus/. "Are you hungry? You said the other night you were a girl who liked to eat. This place has pretty good food. They're actually known for their prime rib." Websites flash, and die when a shift of muscle causes that wave of hair to catch the light. "O-or the lamb." Alexandrine blushes a touch more, chin tucking down a bit. "Wouldn't be so special, if Ah was here all the time. " She points out, a stab of guilt that makes her almost bite on the edge of her bottom lip. Only the fact she remembers she's wearing lipstick stops that action. "Not much of a lamb sort, it's kind of an Easter thing in my world." She offers him a smile as she picks up her own menu. "Ah do like to eat. If it has carbs, Ah love it. Pasta will be my mortal enemy, Ah ever have to stop dancin'. " She makes a little joke of it, blue eyes looking over at him. She wants to say something, but... man has pride. Irish man... jesus, when did she actually start worrying about that? Her hand slides over to curl over his wrist. "Listen, Ah know what we said about you bein' a gentleman an' all, and your ma whippin' your tail.. but she wouldn't mind if Ah like... covered the tip, right? Ah'd just feel guilty, since you got the cab, and we all know how pricey those things are in the city." "I never really think about carbs," Dan admits with a smile. Not that he's exactly sure what a carb /is/. "I think they do a nice Fettucini here, though." He closes one eye solemnly. "I promise to dance it off you, later." The contact of her hand on his bare wrist sends an electric pulse through his skin that momentarily whites out his brain before what she's saying sinks in. "Alexandrine," he says, folding his other hand over hers. Her skin is so soft and pale next to his. Creamy. Huh. /Focus/. "I wouldn't ask you to come if I expected you to cover any of this evening. I promise that this date will not break me." Strain, yes. Break, no. He grins, and leans forward. "Although, our next one might be hot dogs from a vendor's cart on Eighth and Madison." Eddie will cut him a deal, for sure. "You men and your ability to eat anythin' you like." Alex teases. She hadn't been expecting that sort of spark, herself. Good lord. It takes her a moment of her own to regather control and focus. "Ah.. Ah know. Ah'm just not used to bein' treated out like this an' all. Can Ah at least get the pie, later?" Here's hoping he remembers planned desert at the pie place. She chuckles, leaning in just a bit as he mentions hot dogs...for a second date. Wait... did he say next date? "Ah like hot dogs, too. One of the first things Ah did, once Ah moved here. Got a hot dog from a street vendor, an' took a walk in Central Park." Dan chuckles, and glances down at where his hand still rests atop Alex's, his thumb moving slowly along her soft skin. When did he start doing that? He should stop that. Some time. Probably soon. Yet there it stays, an almost thoughtful sort of smoothing of the skin. "All right, I can do that. Pie's on you." And /that/ sparks an altogether different sort of thought which is squashed down /hard/. "Did you go to the Statue of Liberty and the Empier State Building, too?" he teases, eyes crinkling in amusement. Jesus, is he actually happy for a second? /That's/ new. /FOCUS/. "Gonna tease me for bein' a tourist? Meanie." There's no real reason for her to be blushing more, is there? Maybe he'll write it off as a side effect of his hand covering hers, stroking her skin. Such a little thing thing, a soft touch.. "Ah didn't go to the top of the Empire, yet. Want to do it after a movie marathon. You know, Sleepless in Seattle, An Affair to remember... then go up. Silly, Ah know. Just got a romantic streak Ah try to hide, Ah guess." "Don't apologize for being romantic," Dan says, his thumb still smoothing its lightly calloused pad over the juncture of hand and thumb. He really /should/ stop, before she blushes herself unconscious. "A lot of good love stories involve the Empire State. Including," he says, with another crinkle of his eyes. "King Kong. The original. Don't forget that in your marathon." Although it's not /strictly/ in the same fare. The waiter arrives then, with the bottle of wine and two glasses. "Good evening, sir, miss. My name is Michael." He shows the label of the wine to Dan who makes a show of looking at the label. His thoughts on the matter are blank, though, not being /this/ studied for his big night. WHen he nods, Michael uncorks the bottle, and pours a bit into a glass, which he hands to Dan, forcing him to break contact with Alex to accept it. Unsure what to do with it, he swirls it in the glass, noting that the red isn't as red as Alex's lips, which probably will taste better than fancy wine. /Focus/. He sips at it, and licks his lips, nodding as he hands the glass back. Michael seems unbothered by the clumsiness of his hot customer and his smoking date, and if he weren't on-duty, wouldn't he like to... He fills both glasses neatly, wiping the mouth of the bottle with a clean white cloth before he sets that down, too. "Have you decided what you would like to order?" he asks, folding his gloved hands behind his back. "Or would you like a few minutes?" Dan looks to Alexandrine, eyebrows lifting. "Do you want a little more time?" he asks, looking a bit sheepishly at his hands. It's his fault she wasn't looking at the menu, after all. Stupid thumb. There is a chuckle, shaking her head. "There was a remake?" Her expression is a little too wide eyed and disbelieving. "Some movies, there's only the original. But Fay Wray Ah'm not, sugar." She draws her hand back as Dan handles the wine, swallowing hard at that thought of Dan's about wine and lips. "Thank you, Michael. Ah'm afraid Ah'll need another minute or two. Afraid my date has just been too charmin' to tear my eyes away to look at the menu." While it's said to the waiter, it sure sounds genuine. What's more? It will feel it. "Very good, Miss," Michael says with a smile, glancing at Dan and nodding. Yeah, he can see why she'd be charmed. Although, she's easy on the eyes herself. He moves away, then, stopping a couple of tables down to speak to the couple there. Dan relaxes a bit, after he's gone, color creeping into his ears. "That was very nice of you to say," he says, his grin suddenly shy. How does she find him charming? He's a bastard. If she only knew.../damn/ it. Focus, you dumbass grunt. "I hope I'm not overselling it." He crinkles his eyes, and picks up his wine, sipping at it while his thoughts whirl, the primary being how he still isn't sure how he's sitting here with such a beautiful, gentle woman. "You kind of make me want to /be/ charming, though," he admits, his thoughts aligning with that sentiment, briefly. "Not in a creepy way," he adds quickly, the mental boot catching him in the rear of his brain. "Just...I want..." you to like me as much as I think I like you. "You to enjoy yourself." "Thank you, Michael." She says, before she's glancing at Dan. "Ah don't say things just to be nice, sugar. Ah meant it. You're being adorably thoughtful and sweet." She half rises, leaning over the edge of the table to brush the faintest of kisses to his cheek. "You really think you're not charming? Picking this place, the thoughtfulness of the single rose, promising to dance with me? You keep this up, and Ah'll think you cast a spell on me. Some down home hoodoo." She's clearly teasing about the hoodoo, her hand reaching to catch his, squeeze it. "Ah am enjoyin' myself. Very much." She whispers. The brush of lips against his shaven (thank God I thought to stop by Ernie's today) cheek is another electric jolt to Dan's brain, and he grins a bit loosely as he drops his eyes. "I like to treat a lady right," he says with a quick scrunch of his nose. "Especially you," is barely audible, although it's shouted against the walls of his brain. Another, smaller jolt silences it when her hand finds his, and his fingers close around her, lifting them to his own lips and brushing them there. "I'm glad" is murmured against that glowing skin, and there's the briefest of inhalations as his brain carves her scent into stone. "Lucky me." Alexandrine murmurs as she sinks back into her chair, lashes lowered as her cheeks warm. But eyes startled wide as he's kissing her fingers, inhaling that scent. It's soft, lingering, an unusual blend that has a hint of vanilla, a touch of something like toasted almonds, and honey. "Gonna make me forget to look at the menu and eat, sugar." She whispers. It's a scent he'll remember forever, he's pretty sure. Each note carved into his brain with the delicacy of a surgeon's blade. Dan can't quite bring himself to lower her hand until she speaks, and there's a stab of guilt as he reluctantly releases his grip. He lets his fingers trail over her palm as he withdraws, a smile on his face that doesn't quite match the smoky look in his eyes. "I'd hate for Michael to find us unprepared," he murmurs back, and winks before he leans back, a hand toying with the corner of the menu idly as he watches Alex. She's really pretty. I can't believe she said yes. I can't believe I'm here. Why /am/ I here? He swallows hard, and reaches for his wine, allowing the music to fill the silence for the moment. And, because the Universe has a cruel sense of humor, the band shifts into 'You Made Me Love You.' That shift of song might make Alex smirk just a bit. She's good, she knows that. But she's /never/ done anything like that. His sweet thoughts...she shouldn't be listening, but it's hard not to because she's so damn nervous. "Ah hate keepin' waiters and folk waiting. They work hard for their dime, ya know?" She says quietly, trying to keep her eyes on the menu. Pasta...Fettucine. That's good. And it's not anywhere close to as pricey as some of the stuff here gets. She closes the menu, hands smoothing over it before she looks at him again. "Do you know what you want, then?" "Tell me about it," Dan says with a grin, an image of Ellen working in a diner somewhere, hair tucked up in a ponytail, floating across his brain. "That's why I try to tip well. That, and they remember that sort of thing." He smiles, and leans back, enjoying the sight of Alex studying the menu as he sips at his wine. The question gets a stab of guilt, and several images flicker across his mind -- none of them really /appropriate/. "Um, yes," he says, clearing his throat with a bit of cracking sound. "I know what I want." You, you, you. Why am I here? I am so bad for you. Thank you for saying yes. He grins, and spreads a hand. "I'm going to be predictable and order the prime rib," he confesses with a crinkle of his eyes. "What did you land on?" That thought of his poor once wife may momentarily dull the smile, the sparkle in her eyes. "They do. Ah waited tables in a cafe durin' college." She glances down, letting a finger toy with the rose again. "Men and their red meat." Alex sasses him, a stab of her own guilt carefully kept to herself. "You said the fettucine was good. Ah'm in the mood for pasta, Ah think." She picks up the rose again, inhaling the scent of it, eyes closing as she shuts everything out for a moment, total silence but for her own thoughts in her head. "Thank you for askin' me out. If Ah forget to tell you later, Ah had a really good time tonight." There's a slow smile as she recites that line from a movie fairly famous for its redheaded actress as well as being a romantic chick flick. "i would have thought you'd always taught dance," Dan says, the surprise at this revelation palpable in his brain. He did not anticipate this confession, and he rocks mentally as he readjusts his image of the redhead -- towards the positive. He might offer more, but Michael returns, and after the orders are placed and the waiter has disappeared again, Dan leans forward. "If you're going to quote movies at me, at least pick something appropriate to the venue," he teases, eyes crinkling as his brain swirls with iconic romantic roles. "Something like 'I felt, I knew something never before was going to happen, had to happen. But this is so much more.'" West Side Story. Leave it to a Brooklyn boy. "I'm glad you're having a good time. I am, too." "Ah did, but with classes and all in college, Ah could only really do a lot of dance stuff on the weekends. So Ah bussed tables and waited tables more durin' the week. Teachin' dance then really only covered my continued dancin'. Ah still was only considered a student teacher type." Alex shrugs, as if it is no big deal. Because it's not, to her. "Made nice tips, an' learned to be a little more social." She laughs, looking away from him. "Pretty woman is so appropriate. Redhead, hellllllo." There's that drawl at him. "But if you're going to be difficult about it.." She mock glares at him, picking up her wine for a sip, before she's singing softly under the general noise around them, "Hold my hand and we are halfway there, hold my hand and I'll take you there. Somehow! Someday!" Dan laughs, a rich baritone rumble that's unlike the grunted expressions before. Now who's being charming? He's fully under Alex's spell, his nerves steadying out into a slow, dulled murmur in the background. "Yes, but I'd rather not think of you in that particular role," he teases. "It changes the whole tone of the evening." When she begins singing, he leans forward, ears straining to hear her soft voice. Warmth spreads through his mind and his features, and he reaches out to take her hand gently. Should I sing the next line? It would be corny. Outwardly, he smiles and lifts her hand for another brush of lips. "A dancer and a singer," he murmurs, dropping his eyes to take in the slender digits. They look so delicate in his fingers. His big, clumsy fingers. "You're full of surprises, Miss Reynaud." There's a little laugh, cheeks pinking. "Ah don't think that role would be cast well with me in the part, no." There's another sip of wine. "Well, they sometimes came to the dance school for help with high school musicals and such. An' Ah did some in college. More modern day Romeo an' Juliet, all that. Ah always found Tony and Maria more relatable, myself. Always so many barriers in society. Too many made up for no good reason." She grips his hand, kissing his fingertips. "Oh trust me, sugar, you have only begun to scratch the surface." There's that guilt in her head, again. Dan's brain is not getting a break, tonight, with all the electricity surging through it. When Alex kisses his fingertips, any response he might have had for her is lost in a white out of pleasure, and he squeezes gently in return. "I look forward to the dig," he says, and then he's just sitting, staring. And, oddly, his brain seems calm, relaxed. Well, as relaxed as it's ever been. But now the dark tulmultuousness has been pushed to the edges, and Alex's image is foremost, sealed in perma-40s setting in his mental photo album. He should really stop staring. Why can't I stop looking? Do I want to stop? "But you have to promise no sellin' my skeletions to the Smithsonian or anything." Alex teases, just looking at him for a long moment. It's nice, seeing him actually relaxing for once. Couldn't be the wine, could it? She's seen him have alcohol before. She's pretty well doing her best to stay out of his thoughts, at this point. It just... well, it's not fair. Lashes lower, and she takes nigh on forever to even let her hand slip away, if he lets it. Dan chuckles. "I promise to only sell the really juicy ones," he says, reaching for his wine and sipping at it. "Those are the only ones that they want, any way." He smiles, and looks down, eyebrows lifting as he notices his thumb sweeping along Alex's fingers again. It's nice enough that he actually gets lost in it, the music (currently playing: Someone To Watch Over Me) filling the void. He's not willing to let Alex slip away so easily, and when her hand starts to pull back, his fingers close gently, once, to halt them if they can. And it is in such silence, with hands clasped, that Michael finds them when he appears with the plates. Perhaps intuition keeps him silent as he places them in front of the pair deftly, quietly checking the wine bottle before he disappears again. Only after the man has gone does Dan reluctantly let go of Alex's hand. "This looks good," he says, his voice rough with his surprise as he looks over his plate, then looks over at Alex's. "I hope it tastes as good as it looks. I'd hate to lose my credibility at this point." She lets him hang onto her hand, willing to sit in that silence. It shouldn't be this easy. It shouldn't feel like.. like it's supposed to be like this. Alex's expression is serene, though inside her head it is anything but. Michael gets a smile as he sets her plate before her, but she stays quiet. "Pretty hard to muck up pasta, Ah am sure it'll be delicious." She slides her now free hand back, to smooth the napkin in her lap. Fork picked up to dig in. It is good, which is fortunate, though she's not paying too much attention to the flavor. The meal is delicious, and as a result, the conversation dulls down to small talk about the meal and other trivial things that fill those times. The prime rib, when Dan offers a bite, is melt-in-your-mouth tender and exactly the right shade of medium rare. The fettucini is clearly hand-made pasta, with a rich creamy sauce dotted with peas and carefully-grilled chicken. It's a meal fit for celebrities at awards show, in Dan's mind, and there's a flush of pleasure that the food has been as good as the rest of the evening. When Michael returns to collect their plates, Dan politely declines dessert -- they have plans for that, after all, and it's apparent that theirs are one of the last tables being cleared and already couples are starting to filter onto the dance floor. Michael nods, and disappears, leaving their table pristine save for their wine glasses. When they're alone again, Dan's hand creeps across the table to quietly reclaim Alex's, his thoughts warm and flush with pleasure even as his gaze shifts to the dance floor. Alexandrine promises herself she'll do penance for eating red meat during Lent, and well...she'll have other penance to do too, she's sure. She doesn't mind at all when Dan reclaims her hand, watching some people on the dance floor as she finishes her wine. Half her mind is telling her to just stay where she is. Be mellow, Alex! But the more reckless part...well.. "Ah know you promised to dance with me, but.. do you wanna go? We could go somewhere else, maybe talk some, or something? Stop by that pie place for dessert? Ah've got plenty of bourbon at my house. Even some Scotch." Dan's brain sort of stalls when Alex speaks, his eyebrows clenching curiously at the suggestion. "If you want to go, we can go," he says, part of his brain shouting at him to stay where he is. Unfortunately, it's drowned out by the chant of 'Alex! Alex!' that comes at the thought of being /more/ alone with the beautiful redhead. "We can do whatever you like." He releases her hand, then, to reach into his jacket and produce his wallet. He fishes out a couple of hundred dollar bills and a twenty and drops them on the table as he stands. "Any and all of it," he adds with a wink, and moves around to slide Alex's chair out. His movements are measured, but there's a hastiness in his movements that matches the sudden rush of excitement in his head. Alexandrine blushes at that wink, knowing he's probably thinking she's intending on moving a lot faster than she actually intends. "Did you want to stop an' get dessert first? Ah don't have any strawberries to go on the vanilla ice cream at home." She manages a smile, rising and getting her coat on. She picks up that rose, unwilling to leave it there, afraid she'd forget it if she didn't pick it up right away. Dan helps get Alex's coat on, his fingers brushing her shoulders as he settles it into place, and he leans forward to put his nose in her hair right behind her ear. God, she smells good. "Maybe we can stop and get some strawberries on the way," he rasps into that fiery mass, before inhaling deeply and stepping back. There's a flood of sudden self-consciousness that sweeps him, and he actually colors as he grabs his own coat and slips it on, shaking hands with Robert (ninja host who returns the coats) with another flash of money. "I mean, it's entirely up to you," he says, clearing his throat with a cough. "I'm just happy to be with you." Oh, /God/. That sounded corny. He extends his elbow. "Shall we discuss it on the way?"