[His arms are still full. He really hates that. He doesn't want to ruin her dress, but he also thinks that, frankly, it's criminal that he can't pick her up in his arms right now and just hold her, bury his face in her shoulder and breathe in the smell of her. It's much harder to look her in the eye when she's being sweet like this, rather than do something about it, when he can feel his face going a little hot.]
[With some effort, he ducks his head and looks away, muttering under his breath.]
La stella del nord . . . È difficile distogliere lo sguardo da lei.
[What light, through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Caesar is the tsun.]
Are your arms getting tired? We should hurry up, it's not that much farther, and anyway the sooner we get there, the more time there'll be for you to look the dress over.
[Well, okay. You don't have to twist his arm too much there, Suzie. He turns back to her, blinks, and fretfully resists the urge to lean in for another kiss. Focus.]
[She throws him a smile, taking pity on him (or, well, a sort of pity, anyway, though it might not seem like it in practice) long enough to disentangle and get a few steps in front of him, turning around to walk backwards a little before righting herself and pointing toward their destination.]
It looks nice! It's clean, and there aren't a lot of rough-looking people in it. The bouncer is nice, too! He's tall and has a bald head and a tattoo on his arm.
[And it appears that someone fitting that description is, in fact, milling around just inside the doors.]
See! There he is.
[She waves, eagerly, and after a minute or two, the distant figure takes notice and offers a nod-and-raised-hand acknowledgement back.]
[Caesar watches this individual with Suspicion for a moment, then nods in apparent approval. He will allow this man to exist in Suzie's proximity. He guesses.]
And where's your stage?
[Her stage. Just like this is her club. Fight him about it.]
[HYPE TRAIN CAN'T BE STOPPED okay but no, seriously, she does slow down long enough to show him the main part of the club, and the little stage where she'll be singing. It's one of those intimate sorts of places with a little runway that extends out from the stage itself and into the seating area.
It's also apparent that the red dress was a masterful choice, given that most of the interior seems to be done in black and silver with accents in crystal.]
There, isn't it nice? They call it the Diamond for a reason, I guess!
[He considers, as he observes the decor, that he is a fucking genius at dresses. Good job, Caesar. Way to be. Then he nods again, smiles down at Suzie approvingly.]
It's very tasteful. And you'll look perfect up there.
I decided while you were on your way to get me — I'm going to do my hair like Ginger Rogers. ...Or do you think that'd be too much?
[She throws him a look positively teeming with supplication. One can practically see the visions of being a glamorous movie star dancing around in the air around her head.]
[And still, he thinks, long-suffering, his arms are full. All he can do is just look at her and hope that that communicates enough how hnngh he is feeling right now.]
Nessuno sarà in grado di prendere i loro occhi fuori di voi.
[Oh, she sees it, all right. She sees it, and she looks at him, and she gives their surroundings a quick and surreptitious once-over before stepping smoothly to stand in front of him.]
Smettere di soffrire e mi danno l'abito,amichetto.
[Let it never be said that Caesar refused a pretty girl a kiss. He meets her obediently, cupping her face with both hands and only not getting his fingers in her hair because he knows she wants to look nice in her dress. Admire his restraint.]
I'll try to remember and not be too jealous. Even though I think maybe you want me to be a little jealous.
It's not so bad, dolcezza. I think you should get to feel like that.
[He runs his thumbs over her cheeks, kisses her again. If he can make her feel like that, damn right he's going to.]
You look so amazing right now . . . maybe I'll be more than a little jealous. But I promise I won't do anything bad. I'll just save up my kisses for the end of the night.
[But with that, she takes up her bag and zooms off purposefully into the backstage area, where she remains gone for a reasonable amount of time — the last thing she's about to do is rush herself and run the risk of something happening to this dress, after all.
When she does make her reappearance, though, it's not from one of the doors that connects to the floor, but from stage left itself; as promised, she's let down her hair and fluffed it up into a cloud of old Hollywood waves and curls, with red, red lipstick and a diamond-studded dress to match.
And here she comes, down the little runway, in what would be a fantastic imitation of Jessica Rabbit, if it weren't for the anachronism of about fifty years in the wrong direction.]
[Just as Caesar is very sure he's about to die of anticipation (despite every outward appearance of calm collectedness, because he actually is very good at waiting, even though it's usually girls waiting for him and not the other way around), Suzie makes her reappearance. He doesn't quite see all of her at first, just movement out of the corner of his eye, and he turns from where he's leaned back against the stage and--]
[Hm. Yes. He is, in fact, going to die here. At the very least he's going to pass out, looking up at her like she's absolutely the most perfect thing he's ever seen, which in fact he is, and like he doesn't have words, which in fact he doesn't. Not in English or in Italian. He's just. Well. Very hnngh again, honestly, and seems perfectly content to stand here and worship her from this distance for as long as she'd like him to.]
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[With some effort, he ducks his head and looks away, muttering under his breath.]
La stella del nord . . . È difficile distogliere lo sguardo da lei.
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Are your arms getting tired? We should hurry up, it's not that much farther, and anyway the sooner we get there, the more time there'll be for you to look the dress over.
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Come on, then. Lead the way.
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There, see! You can just see it, there it is.
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It's nice inside, too? And safe? You said there was a bouncer?
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[And it appears that someone fitting that description is, in fact, milling around just inside the doors.]
See! There he is.
[She waves, eagerly, and after a minute or two, the distant figure takes notice and offers a nod-and-raised-hand acknowledgement back.]
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And where's your stage?
[Her stage. Just like this is her club. Fight him about it.]
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[Zooooooooooom.]
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Wait up!
[his giant man legs are No Match for tiny zooming suzie]
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It's also apparent that the red dress was a masterful choice, given that most of the interior seems to be done in black and silver with accents in crystal.]
There, isn't it nice? They call it the Diamond for a reason, I guess!
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It's very tasteful. And you'll look perfect up there.
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[She throws him a look positively teeming with supplication. One can practically see the visions of being a glamorous movie star dancing around in the air around her head.]
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Nessuno sarà in grado di prendere i loro occhi fuori di voi.
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[Oh, she sees it, all right. She sees it, and she looks at him, and she gives their surroundings a quick and surreptitious once-over before stepping smoothly to stand in front of him.]
Smettere di soffrire e mi danno l'abito, amichetto.
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Sì, signorina.
[He hands it over and then immediately presses a light, lingering kiss to her lips.]
Molto misericordioso.
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[But she still gravitates after him a little when he draws away, so it's clear he hasn't been the only one eager for that kiss, either.]
Will you be able to make it through a whole set tonight, not being able to kiss me?
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[He does not say I might die, because he's learning, but that's fairly close to the truth, all told.]
You're going to be so perfect and singing to me. I'll have to be good and not interrupt you for kisses. But it will be very difficult.
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[And up she goes onto her tiptoes to chase him for a kiss again.]
I know you can be strong, if you keep that much in mind.
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I'll try to remember and not be too jealous. Even though I think maybe you want me to be a little jealous.
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[She smiles at him, cheeks flushing a little pink.]
Like a glamorous movie star. It's not so bad, to want to feel like that just a little, is it?
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[He runs his thumbs over her cheeks, kisses her again. If he can make her feel like that, damn right he's going to.]
You look so amazing right now . . . maybe I'll be more than a little jealous. But I promise I won't do anything bad. I'll just save up my kisses for the end of the night.
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[Her eyelashes flutter, feathered against her cheek; he kisses her and it's hard to keep her eyes open, hard to concentrate on anything but this.]
...Mmmmmlet me go change. And then kiss me on the stage, for good luck.
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[With extreme reluctance, he pushes her lightly away by the shoulders.]
Go on. Hurry up. Don't keep me waiting too long.
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[But with that, she takes up her bag and zooms off purposefully into the backstage area, where she remains gone for a reasonable amount of time — the last thing she's about to do is rush herself and run the risk of something happening to this dress, after all.
When she does make her reappearance, though, it's not from one of the doors that connects to the floor, but from stage left itself; as promised, she's let down her hair and fluffed it up into a cloud of old Hollywood waves and curls, with red, red lipstick and a diamond-studded dress to match.
And here she comes, down the little runway, in what would be a fantastic imitation of Jessica Rabbit, if it weren't for the anachronism of about fifty years in the wrong direction.]
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[Hm. Yes. He is, in fact, going to die here. At the very least he's going to pass out, looking up at her like she's absolutely the most perfect thing he's ever seen, which in fact he is, and like he doesn't have words, which in fact he doesn't. Not in English or in Italian. He's just. Well. Very hnngh again, honestly, and seems perfectly content to stand here and worship her from this distance for as long as she'd like him to.]
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