Claire isn't someone who plays games, with her intentions. She's all too aware how short life can be, and there's not much room in being coy. So she doesn't make him wait days on end. She doesn't need to bait him, he's already made it clear that he's interested. But it is well after midnight when she does text him.
Do you observe weekends?
It's a silly question, all things considered, but he is a workaholic. Despite his adamant protests to the contrary.
Being in the labs after midnight was normal for Wesker. While he acknowledged that he needed his underlings to progress work more quickly, he liked to check and double check results himself. It was much quieter at night; almost peaceful, in fact. That was a welcome change of pace.
The sound of a text alert almost made him recoil at first. What did Excella want now?
Reading the name softened his expression. An interruption from Claire was a far more pleasant one.
I don't, but exceptions can be made. What do you have in mind?
Wesker wasn't in the habit of leaving people on "read" unless they said something particularly stupid or unimportant. Given the nature of his work, completely ignoring messages wasn't an option.
One could argue that weekend plans weren't important. Normally he would agree, but curiosity sometimes got the better of even the most standoffish cats.
He thought about it for a moment, but nothing came to mind that he couldn't bring himself to eat. Wesker suspected Claire was raised on very classic American food.
"Hmm..." That gave him an idea.
Whatever you choose will be fine. Why not take the opportunity to share your favorite meal with me?
Knowing someone's favorite foods may have seemed trivial, but Wesker liked to know things.
Her favorite? Her most common dinners ran to takeout, and that hadn't been what she'd meant. She was very capable in the kitchen, she just didn't have a lot of time. Though she intended to make an exception. And hopefully an impression.
French toast is really more of a morning food. But I think I can come up with something you'll like.
French toast. He wondered how she liked it; whether she added anything to make the recipe her own when she made it for herself.
Maybe she would make it for him when she invited him to spend the night. That wouldn't necessarily happen after this dinner, but Wesker could be patient.
Would wine be appropriate for the occasion, or would something else be more suitable?
And here she was thinking that she might need to also buy supplies to make breakfast. Just in case. If she was getting ahead of herself, well, more breakfast for her.
She smiled at the next message, not sure why she found that offer rather thoughtful.
"He's being polite, Claire."
Wine would be appropriate. White. I thought we'd eat light.
That sounded promising. His patience might not be necessary here, and that was completely fine by him.
White wine it is. I'll see you promptly at seven, dear heart.
Though he would make sure she was keeping her end of their bargain before he showed himself. Being cautious was one reason he had made it as far as he had, and he wasn't about to throw it away now.
It wasn't like they're dating. Denial isn't just a river in Egypt. There want any reason to drag things out, since they'd both made things clear, about their interest in one another. Claire just needed a platform to go from 0 to naked with someone.
See you then. [...] Good night.
Not that she found it easy to sleep, after that. But she managed.
Saturday came too quickly and not fast enough. And Claire's nerves started to really show up around 5pm. What should she wear? She'd really never fussed over things like that before, but this was a... unique situation. She debated longer than she'd like to admit, but settled for a soft, short skirt, tank top, and slip on walking shoes. Pretty, but casual.
She started cooking about 30 minutes out. Something to focus on helped her settle. And also not keep looking at the time.
Edited (Takes me this long to write and I miss a huge typo) 2021-01-26 21:57 (UTC)
Hopefully Claire had dreams pleasant enough for both of them, because it was nearly dawn when he crashed into bed for a few scant hours of sleep.
By Saturday he had made arrangements to keep the labs running smoothly without him for the time he would be away. He wasn't to be disturbed unless there was an emergency.
Since this was a more casual dinner, wearing a suit seemed like too much, so he dressed in black slacks and a steel gray button down. Mostly to prove that he didn't wear all black all the time. The sunglasses were a staple that weren't going anywhere though.
He picked up a bottle of white wine on the way; not ridiculously expensive but not cheap either. He also bought a single long stemmed red rose. Presenting bouquets wasn't really his style.
Arriving a few minutes early gave him the opportunity to carefully look for any signs of Chris or anyone else she might have decided to call, but he found nothing. Good girl.
It was exactly seven when he knocked on her door, rose in hand to offer her when she answered. The wine was less important.
Exactly seven, and she couldn't help but chuckle. So literal, but also exactly what should be expected.
She wiped her hand, before hurrying to answer the door. She didn't want to make him wait, because that would make her feel like a cliche. Also while she didn't have nosy neighbors, you never know who might pop out of their apartment when.
She realized she was unprepared, when she opened the door. Her eyes swept him over, her brain unhelpfully chiming that he looked really good, and forgot for a solid to seconds that she was supposed to speak.
"Hey." Good work, Claire. Starting on a great foot. Maybe reign your hormones in, at least until you've fed the man. "You take punctuality to a whole new level, don't you. Come on in."
Wesker wasn't too worried about potentially being seen by neighbors. None of them were likely to know who he was, and while they might think he looked suspicious, Claire could easily reassure them some other time.
His lips turned up in a small smile at the speechlessness of his evening companion. How would she have reacted if he'd dressed up?
He gave her a quick once over as he held the rose out to her, though she wouldn't notice because of his shades.
"Did you expect any less?" he asked, allowing his arm to lightly brush hers as he stepped inside, just to see her reaction.
It likely said something about her, that she didn't notice the rose, until he was handing to her. She's not sure what though. It's still flattering though. Not over the top, but thoughtful.
"I shouldn't."
It had been a while, since she'd done anything remotely like dating, but that brush of his arm on hers felt intentional. And she'd just take a moment to clise the door, and silently pull herself together. This was real, and happening, and she had food on the stove.
Her apartment was a nice size. Warm and tidy. The floorplan was an open design into the kitchen, where she had an island with cushy stools. She walked around him, getting back to the pan she has on the stovetop.
"Make yourself at home. This just needs another few minutes."
Claire's apartment had a nice, cozy atmosphere, which was something he wasn't very accustomed to. It was something he appreciated though, and making himself at home was easier because of it. Wesker followed her toward the kitchen and took a seat on one of the stools, placing the bottle of wine on the counter while she got back to cooking.
Dinner certainly smelled good. A small part of him had almost expected they'd be sharing containers of Chinese food. Not that he'd necessarily have a problem with that.
She had settled on a Tuscan chicken, which only took her way too long to decide on. At least, it cooked fairly quickly. And it looked nice as she plated it up.
"Tada. This Redfield can do more than calling for pizza," she joked lightly, setting the plates down. She grabbed a corkscrew and passed to him. "Would you open that?"
"I suspect that's the extent of the knowledge your brother was able to pass on regarding food."
The meal Claire had prepared looked as good as it smelled. Wesker didn't often sit down to a nice meal, so this would be a pleasant treat for him. One of many for the night, he hoped.
"Of course."
Removing the cork was nothing to him. He probably made it look as though it was barely held in place. When he held the corkscrew out to her, he asked, "Glasses?"
She was moving to get them, even as he asked. And after only a second of debate, the good napkins, with the silverware. It was a night for good impressions, after all.
"He was a single legal guardian, so if I wanted something that wasn't takeout or Chef Boyardee, I had to learn to make it myself."
She settled into her seat, deciding to sit at the end, so they'd be beside each other, but it'd still be easy to talk. She lifted her glass in a little salute.
"He taught me plenty of other useful things. Cheers."
Wesker filled their glasses and set the bottle aside, then settled back into his seat. This wasn't necessarily a traditional romantic dinner, but it was cozy and intimate. The fact that she was trying to impress him didn't go unnoticed, but she had already impressed him in other ways. If she hadn't, he wouldn't be with her now.
"Other single parents seem to do just fine," he pointed out. When he raised his glass to her, he added, "But I hope he passed his combat training on to you. His skills were, and presumably still are, commendable."
"He did, but I know that he has never outrun a helicopter with a rail gun."
She's taken out zombies and tyrants, but that's the thing she bragged about. It was intended to be lighthearted, since bringing up all the other things she's beaten tread a bit close to work talk. And she didn't want to talk about Chris all night.
He didn't want to spend too much time talking about Chris either, nor did he want to tread toward the subject of work. They were on opposing sides where that was concerned.
He took a sip of his wine, considering her response for a moment. It was interesting to him that Claire saw so many positive attributes when others in her life would no doubt speak poorly of him on a regular basis.
"Dancing is not a talent many would expect me to have, I suppose."
Other people recognized those traits as well, they just coded them differently, because Wesker has harmed them, in their use. She just chose to see them as they were; his motivations didn't make him any less skilled.
"I would say so." She was surprised, in the good way. "You come off as someone who wouldn't be interested in dancing."
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For blackshades
Do you observe weekends?
It's a silly question, all things considered, but he is a workaholic. Despite his adamant protests to the contrary.
no subject
The sound of a text alert almost made him recoil at first. What did Excella want now?
Reading the name softened his expression. An interruption from Claire was a far more pleasant one.
I don't, but exceptions can be made. What do you have in mind?
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"Workaholic~."
She didn't type it, just sing-songed at her phone, while she did tap back a reply.
Dinner. At my place, Friday or Saturday.
Dinner because she can't just have a mindless hookup. She just doesn't have it in her.
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One could argue that weekend plans weren't important. Normally he would agree, but curiosity sometimes got the better of even the most standoffish cats.
I can make arrangements for Saturday. Time?
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I was thinking 7.
Anything you won't eat? That a normal American might be serving.
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"Hmm..." That gave him an idea.
Whatever you choose will be fine. Why not take the opportunity to share your favorite meal with me?
Knowing someone's favorite foods may have seemed trivial, but Wesker liked to know things.
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French toast is really more of a morning food. But I think I can come up with something you'll like.
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Maybe she would make it for him when she invited him to spend the night. That wouldn't necessarily happen after this dinner, but Wesker could be patient.
Would wine be appropriate for the occasion, or would something else be more suitable?
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She smiled at the next message, not sure why she found that offer rather thoughtful.
"He's being polite, Claire."
Wine would be appropriate. White. I thought we'd eat light.
You know. For reasons.
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White wine it is. I'll see you promptly at seven, dear heart.
Though he would make sure she was keeping her end of their bargain before he showed himself. Being cautious was one reason he had made it as far as he had, and he wasn't about to throw it away now.
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Denial isn't just a river in Egypt.There want any reason to drag things out, since they'd both made things clear, about their interest in one another. Claire just needed a platform to go from 0 to naked with someone.See you then. [...] Good night.
Not that she found it easy to sleep, after that. But she managed.
Saturday came too quickly and not fast enough. And Claire's nerves started to really show up around 5pm. What should she wear? She'd really never fussed over things like that before, but this was a... unique situation. She debated longer than she'd like to admit, but settled for a soft, short skirt, tank top, and slip on walking shoes. Pretty, but casual.
She started cooking about 30 minutes out. Something to focus on helped her settle. And also not keep looking at the time.
no subject
Hopefully Claire had dreams pleasant enough for both of them, because it was nearly dawn when he crashed into bed for a few scant hours of sleep.
By Saturday he had made arrangements to keep the labs running smoothly without him for the time he would be away. He wasn't to be disturbed unless there was an emergency.
Since this was a more casual dinner, wearing a suit seemed like too much, so he dressed in black slacks and a steel gray button down. Mostly to prove that he didn't wear all black all the time. The sunglasses were a staple that weren't going anywhere though.
He picked up a bottle of white wine on the way; not ridiculously expensive but not cheap either. He also bought a single long stemmed red rose. Presenting bouquets wasn't really his style.
Arriving a few minutes early gave him the opportunity to carefully look for any signs of Chris or anyone else she might have decided to call, but he found nothing. Good girl.
It was exactly seven when he knocked on her door, rose in hand to offer her when she answered. The wine was less important.
no subject
She wiped her hand, before hurrying to answer the door. She didn't want to make him wait, because that would make her feel like a cliche. Also while she didn't have nosy neighbors, you never know who might pop out of their apartment when.
She realized she was unprepared, when she opened the door. Her eyes swept him over, her brain unhelpfully chiming that he looked really good, and forgot for a solid to seconds that she was supposed to speak.
"Hey." Good work, Claire. Starting on a great foot. Maybe reign your hormones in, at least until you've fed the man. "You take punctuality to a whole new level, don't you. Come on in."
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His lips turned up in a small smile at the speechlessness of his evening companion. How would she have reacted if he'd dressed up?
He gave her a quick once over as he held the rose out to her, though she wouldn't notice because of his shades.
"Did you expect any less?" he asked, allowing his arm to lightly brush hers as he stepped inside, just to see her reaction.
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"I shouldn't."
It had been a while, since she'd done anything remotely like dating, but that brush of his arm on hers felt intentional. And she'd just take a moment to clise the door, and silently pull herself together. This was real, and happening, and she had food on the stove.
Her apartment was a nice size. Warm and tidy. The floorplan was an open design into the kitchen, where she had an island with cushy stools. She walked around him, getting back to the pan she has on the stovetop.
"Make yourself at home. This just needs another few minutes."
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Dinner certainly smelled good. A small part of him had almost expected they'd be sharing containers of Chinese food. Not that he'd necessarily have a problem with that.
"Take your time, dear heart. I'm in no rush."
Certainly not to leave.
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She had settled on a Tuscan chicken, which only took her way too long to decide on. At least, it cooked fairly quickly. And it looked nice as she plated it up.
"Tada. This Redfield can do more than calling for pizza," she joked lightly, setting the plates down. She grabbed a corkscrew and passed to him. "Would you open that?"
no subject
The meal Claire had prepared looked as good as it smelled. Wesker didn't often sit down to a nice meal, so this would be a pleasant treat for him. One of many for the night, he hoped.
"Of course."
Removing the cork was nothing to him. He probably made it look as though it was barely held in place. When he held the corkscrew out to her, he asked, "Glasses?"
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"He was a single legal guardian, so if I wanted something that wasn't takeout or Chef Boyardee, I had to learn to make it myself."
She settled into her seat, deciding to sit at the end, so they'd be beside each other, but it'd still be easy to talk. She lifted her glass in a little salute.
"He taught me plenty of other useful things. Cheers."
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"Other single parents seem to do just fine," he pointed out. When he raised his glass to her, he added, "But I hope he passed his combat training on to you. His skills were, and presumably still are, commendable."
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She's taken out zombies and tyrants, but that's the thing she bragged about. It was intended to be lighthearted, since bringing up all the other things she's beaten tread a bit close to work talk. And she didn't want to talk about Chris all night.
"What about you? What's your hidden talent?"
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"What makes you think I have one?"
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Another type of woman might have come off as stroking his ego. But Claire was just matter of fact. This is what she saw, when she looked at him.
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He took a sip of his wine, considering her response for a moment. It was interesting to him that Claire saw so many positive attributes when others in her life would no doubt speak poorly of him on a regular basis.
"Dancing is not a talent many would expect me to have, I suppose."
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"I would say so." She was surprised, in the good way. "You come off as someone who wouldn't be interested in dancing."
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Hi stranger <3