knowthyexits | (no subject)

Entry tags:

keith

(no subject)

She's an idiot.

Sarah's been reiterating this again and again, but nonetheless, she's here. She's here and she's even put on decent clothes for this blind date that a crazy woman set up. Insanity may have been prevalent in the whole process, but she still finds herself curious as to what kind of man she'll be meeting tonight. Her thoughts stray always to Reese and to Charley and how they were both good men trying to fight to make the world better.

The men she's met here seem the same, but she's not exactly a great prize considering everyone else is at least twenty years younger and far more attractive than she can ever muster. She can clean up nicely enough, but pry away the clothes and all there's left is scars and shrapnel and proof of her war.

Still, here she is in a pair of good jeans and a decent top, hands awkwardly shoved in her pockets as she waits for this mysterious man. The added fact that they're at the Winchester doesn't help. This is her workplace. This is where she knows people and they know her.

Like Sarah said: insane.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Did this count as desperation, or just being a pushover? Keith wasn't sure. He supposed he could have said no to the woman, if you said no to apparently literal Greek goddesses who were bent on setting you up, but as presented, that would have meant standing someone up. He'd have felt bad. So he'd make the most of it, and try not to feel disappointing.

Well, no, he didn't have any personal issues of inadequacy, he was quite happy with who he was, how he looked. But it was an island full of people who looked like movie stars, you couldn't help but be aware. Still. Sense of humour, confidence, they worked wonders.

He tried not to be too obvious about looking about when he walked in. He made a guess, walked over to her. "Stop me if you've heard this one," he said. "A former Greek goddess walks into an office..."

Sarah turns and can't help her grin of relief that she hasn't been shown to some teenager who's too pretty for his own good. "Let me guess," she wryly continues, hooking her fingers in her jeans to have something to do with her hands. "And tells you she's got a date for you to go on. I thought I was having a mental breakdown."

"Got it in one," Keith said, with a small merry smile. "Tell you what, I get a lot of weird people coming into my office with surprises, and that was... probably in the top ten. Keith, Keith Mars." He extended a hand.

She leans over to shake his hand, smiling awkwardly and feeling it course down to her very bones. "I'm Sarah Baum," she introduces herself, hating the slight bite of guilt that comes with the fake name. It's for his own good. The last thing she needs is someone killing people while looking for the Connors. "What did you do before here?"

"PI," he said, and then, in his best old timey movie voice, that slightly nasal drawl, "Private dick, y'see." Then, in a more normal voice, "There's only about half as many mysterious bird statues when you do it for real, so don't get your hopes up. What about you?"

A shock of fear strikes through Sarah at the mention of his old job and she instantly starts to wonder if this was a bad idea. She keeps a steely expression on, though, and refuses to let this put a damper on the evening. Just because he used to be a PI doesn't mean she hasn't grown good at what she does.

She hasn't left breadcrumbs. "I was just a waitress. And I still am, so I'm not really sure how much of my life has changed," she admits with a wry smile, laughing quietly at the joke. "Mysterious bird statues?"

She's missed a lot of culture in her time running. She's definitely missed that reference.

"You haven't seen the Maltese Falcon? Wow," he said, not critical -- it was, after all, an old movie, and a lot of people had, and besides, it might not even exist in her universe -- but affecting a degree of concern. "Well, if I make it to a second date, I know what we're doing. Do you want to sit down?"

"I haven't seen a lot," she assures him, looking around for a place to sit that won't be too conspicuous. Years in, and she still sizes up every room she's in for disaster and danger -- but if a T-triple-eight comes crashing through the doors, she's going to be prepared. "I spent a lot of years without television. I was busy with...other pursuits."

She gestures to a table in the corner, one with a good view of the whole Winchester. "There?" she suggests, trying not to ignore the mix of panic and strange desperate desire to make it to that mentioned second date.

It's just been a long, long time since she's had anything like this and the part of her that used to be normal misses it desperately.

"Good choice," he said, heading over, rapping his knuckles on it when he arrived. "Solid looking table."

He pulled out a chair for her, because Keith Mars had class, thank you very much. "Television free, huh? You know, I can't blame you."

She couldn't help a slight laugh at his gesture, appreciating how normal this all seemed. There was a persistent voice in her head that said that she couldn't endanger his life, but she had been on this island for so long without an attack. She was thirsty for normality. "Well, we lived simply in my family. You don't miss television when you just don't have it for a while. Which isn't to say I didn't like my fair share of shows back in the seventies."

"Ah, the simpler, kind of offensive shows of our youth," he said, taking his own seat. "So, the family. That's you, and..."

She can lie here and it would be so easy, but she's struck knowing that the way this island operates, it will hurt her. So instead of lying, she'll only unleash a half truth. "My son." She manages a tight smile. "Who isn't here." It's for the best, she tells herself every day, it's safer for him, but it's torture for her.

"Do you want something to drink? I can just get Trixa to bring us something. The perks of working here means I do know the tricks of the trade," she jokes, trying to take the conversation off what she's just told him.

Painful subject. It would be. He doesn't like to think of Veronica not being around.

"Sure," he said. "Coming here even on a night off, huh? They really do have the market cornered."

"Well, it's this or the Hub. As progressive as I like to think I am, I still can't do the jazz club, knowing it's under a strip club." Call her old-fashioned like that. "So here, are you a PI here, too?" It's personal curiosity as much as it's protection.

Just in case something happens. Just in case she's going to be found out one day.

"Not that much call for it," he said. "I guess I could sit outside that strip club with a camera and relive the old days, but it'd look kind of weird without a client, y'know? No, I'm IPD."

She leans forward, elbows on the table, as a delighted smirk comes over her face. "Everyone needs a hobby," she gets out before the absurdity of her own words comes to haunt her and she grimaces, offering a pained groan. "I'm sorry. It's been a while since I've done this."

And she really, really hopes this doesn't go in the vein of her last few attempts at normality. Especially the route of Andy Goode.

"Hey, that was fine," Keith said, shaking his head reassuringly. "I mean, I think, I don't have a lot to compare it to-" this was by way of a teasing joke, he hoped he pulled it off, "- it's been a while for me, too. Let's just give ourselves permission to be terrible at this, how about that? No judgment."

She smiles, but it almost seems a bit wary. She's a bit wary of this whole thing and she almost wants someone like Derek to sit the next table over and hiss at her about how stupid she's being. Some things, Sarah still hasn't learned. "Okay, but I'm holding you to that," she warns, smiling with something like blessed relief. "Would this be when I admit to my love of pageant-show taxidermy?"

She even pulls off a straight face, right until the end.

Keith grinned. "And then I pull out my stuffed ferret from under the chair," he agreed. "It's fate!"

Almost without thinking, Sarah smiles and says, "There's no fate but what we make." And then she realizes what she's done and clears her throat. "At least, that's something I've heard people say. I always liked it."

"It's a good line," Keith agreed, nodding. "Deep and catchy. I was always more of a 'control your own destiny' kind of guy, anyway."

"I just don't like thinking that our lives are planned out for us," she said, focusing on her silverware and arranging it with careful fingers so she could avoid looking up as she spoke. "That no matter what we do, we're bound to one path and can't change things."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only