Daisy's Apartment

[pieeater]

(( ))

Pie went stiff. He was all revved to come over and see her but now he stood there frozen. Maybe it was the butterflies or maybe it was her shy greeting. He let out a long "um" before finally pulling his arm from he hind his back. He was clutching a bouquet of sorts - mostly leafy branches from bushes and shrubs, a few small flower buds sprinkled around the arrangement. He let out a little, unsure, laugh. "Sorry..ain't much pickins on flowers this time a year.."

[Daisy O'Connor]

It's okay," Daisy said, touched that he had even tried and she reached out to take the bouquet from him, brushing a finger over one of the flowers. "I think they're beautiful." And she meant it. She motioned him inside where she had spent all day preparing their meal and had been careful to set a nice table. Once he had stepped inside she shut the door and just stood there looking at him, wondering why just standing with him was enough to make her feel light. They stood there for a moment, Daisy unsure what to do and then decided she wanted more than a hello and launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tight. "I'm really glad you're here."

[pieeater]

Pie stepped back to cushion the blow. His arms immediately wrapped around her and he started to giggle. "I was begginin' to worry, but ya fixed that!" He started to play with her hair a bit, grinning uncontrollably. Looking around the apartment he spied the precise table and the pleasant aroma. She seemed to have gone to a lot of trouble for him. "Everythin' looks great, Daisy." He blushed, "you too..."

[Daisy O'Connor]

"Th-thank you," Daisy said, blushing deeply as she stepped out of the circle of his arms. She liked the feel of his fingers toying with her hair and she smiled over at him shyly. "I hope you like it," She motioned towards the table with a delicate hand and then looked down at the bouquet that was now slightly crushed from their hug. "Let me put these in some water and then we can eat." She started towards the kitchen and then turned around to look at him, "You look nice too, Pie..." Then blushing again she turned around and headed into the kitchen.

[pieeater]

He shared her blush from the complement, though he was glad she noticed his efforts. Pie hung his hat and coat on a coat rack next to the door before making his way to the table. "Mmmmm it smells good..." he licked his lips and followed her into the kitchen and began to lift the lid from the pot on the stove, just to get a peak at what was smelling so delicious. "You really been goin' to work in 'ere haven't you?" He stuck one of his fingers in to sneak a taste.

[Daisy O'Connor]

"That was the idea, wasn't it?" Daisy said, looking over at him and simling when she saw him sneaking a taste of the soup. "You keep doing that and we won't have any left to eat." She giggled a little and then finished setting the flowers in some water. She walked over to the table and picked up the bowls she had set out, handing one to Pie. Watching him out of the corner of her eye she walked around to the other side of him and picked up the soup ladle, prepared to dish him out some soup. She was finding the longer they were there together the more comfortable she became.

[pieeater]

"But it jus' smelled so good!" Pie quickly closed the lid and gave her an innocent smile before following her over to the table. He slid into his seat holding his bowl toward her, eager for an actual helping of the soup. He bit his lip a little, unsure what to talk about because this was after all a real date.

[Daisy O'Connor]

She served them both some soup, then returned to the kitchen to set the pot back on the stove and grabbing the basket of bread which she set between them on the table. She settled across from him and smiled shyly. This was obviously a new experience for them both and she just hoped she didn't say anything to stupid. There was so much that she wanted to tell him, wanted to share with him...she just didn't know if he'd care. "I...uh...I helped deliver Miz Aria's baby," She started, smiling a little. "She had a little girl, Rebecca. Prettiest thing I've ever seen."

[Jerry Flynn]

((NEW DAY))

The last time Jerry had been this close to a pretty girl was almost two months ago, when he'd crossed paths with a young woman at the flower cart while trying to develop some inspiration to write a Carrollesque story about anthropomorphic flowers. He'd been a jabbering mess then, barely able to string a sentence together. Always one to learn from his mistakes, he played it safe this time, keeping quiet and consciously putting an effort into not babbling on brainlessly.

He'd asked Jensen once, after Jensen had had a couple drinks and was in a very pleasant mood, how he talked to girls so easily. Let them do the talking had been his first tip. Ask them questions about themselves--where they're from, what they do, what they'd like to do... Jerry was pretty sure Jensen had meant that last part in the immoral sense (as in, what they'd like to do with him), but it could still apply casually, right?

"So, Daisy," Jerry started, and winced at how forced it came out. "Where, ah, where are you from?"

[Daisy O'Connor]

It was just beginning to get dark as they walked, the sun sinking low in the sky but Daisy barely noticed because all her focus was on the tall, quiet man beside her. He fascinated her, the way he seemed to be a bundle of nerves but if you took a moment to look, to really look into his eyes there was someone underneath that Daisy was dying to get to know. They walked in silence for a bit, the air cooling slightly and she admired the pinks and oranges in the sky until Jerry's deep voice broke through the silence.

"Ireland," She said, allowing some of her accent which had faded with her years in New York slip back into her voice. "Came over a few years ago with my parents, trying to live out the big American dream, you know." She kicked at a rock on the ground in front of them and watched it roll away before turning her head and studying his profile. He was tall, so much taller than her and she liked the way she felt small and slight beside him. "Ma got taken by the sickness a few years back and Da...well Da...disappeared." She didn't really have another word for what had happened to her dad, he'd been there one day, gone the next and that had been three years ago. She missed them sometimes, her Ma especially, but she'd learned to manage on her own...relying on her on wits and her friends to make it through. "So now I'm here."

She stopped and looked over at him again, having to take quick steps to keep up with his long strides but she didn't mind. There was something soothing and calming about his presence that Daisy enjoyed, a comfort that she hadn't really expected but welcomed altogether. "You said you're a writer?" She asked, tilting her head and after a moment, on instinct she reached out her arm and linked it through his, getting a thrill from the rock steadiness of his body beside hers and she smiled up at him. "I love to read."

[Jerry Flynn]

"Oh my," he said gently after she explained the whereabouts of her parents. "I'm so sorry..." He genuinely was, too. He couldn't imagine how rough something like that must be, and he was suddenly very grateful that he hadn't had to experience a loss like that. Both his parents were alive and well, able to afford the best doctors, and happily married. One thing their little "experiment" in sending their sons out to live in the real world for a while had taught him was that quite a few people weren't that lucky. He hadn't met anyone yet, he didn't think, who hadn't lost one or both parents already, or who had some kind of traumatic experience. The worst thing he'd ever gone through was when his horse, Bucko, had gotten strangles when he was eleven and had to be put down before the infection spread through the barn. To an eleven-year-old would-be cowboy, that was admittedly traumatic, but surely it couldn't compare to losing a parent.

"I'm from Schenectady, and my parents are still there," he said almost guiltily, as though the statement was like to slap Daisy in the face with the fact that his parents were living and accounted for. "They breed racehorses. I--I can't imagine what it would be like to lose them. My parents, I mean. Not the racehorses..."

"You said you're a writer? I love to read."

She slipped her arm through his, and though the sudden contact startled him, he was grateful she'd done it a moment later. Her statement positively made his head swim. Oh, the sound of those words from her lips, and he was in heaven. He could feel himself blushing like a fool, but that was nothing new at this point.

The best part was that now they were on a topic he could discuss without sounding like a moronic babbler!

"I write, but I haven't quite found The Big One yet, you know? There's an idea out there, just waiting for me to find it and bring it to life, but somehow it keeps eluding me. I haven't found my genre niche yet--I'm dabbling in a few until I find the right style--but I have had a few pieces published, which makes me very fortunate, I think." He turned to look at her, for the first time able to look right into her eyes without dissolving into a puddle of stammers and stutters. "What kind of books do you like? Do you have a favorite?"

[Daisy O'Connor]

"Thank you," She said softly in reply to his apology. Daisy wasn't in the habit of feeling sorry for herself and after a good long cry the day after her father's disappearance, there hadn't seemed much point in dwelling. So she'd picked herself back up, metaphorically of course, doubled her shifts at McGinty's so she could keep the apartment and greeted the world with the same sunny optimism and positive attitude that had always colored her days.

"Horses?" She repeated, her eyes lighting as she watched him. "I used to ride horses in Ireland," She explained, her eyes going slightly dreamy as she recalled some long ago and almost forgotten memory. "Da would pull me up in front of him and we'd ride out what felt like forever and then come home and Ma would have dinner ready." A smile flitted across her features and she found his eyes again, it was a fond memory. "It's sad some times, but eventually the wounds heal and you remember the good bits and that's what you carry with you."

She liked the feel of her arm looped through his, it was reassuring and comfortable, and almost like they had done this many times before instead of just meeting merely hours ago in the waning hours of her shift. He blushed at her question, but more than that he radiated as the conversation turned to writing and Daisy could tell that there was a lot of passion for his chosen profession and she admired that more than she could ever explain. "I would like to read...some of your writing if you wouldn't mind sharing them with me."

She mused his question, biting her lip for a moment before looking up and finding him looking down at her, square in the eye and she swore her insides went liquid at the deep chocolate brown color and the softness in his gaze. She had to clear her throat before she could answer, words getting stuck as a blush tinged her cheeks. "I like...I like all kinds of books, though I think my favorites are by Jane Austen. I particularly enjoy Emma, she's such a wonderful character. Flawed, but she loves and cares so deeply that those flaws are only part of her charm."

[Jerry Flynn]

Jerry kept quiet, reflecting on her words on loss. What would remain of his parents' memories when they passed? What, pray tell, would remain of Jensen's memory? Jerry couldn't offhandedly recall any positive memories they'd created once his brother hit adolescence and Jerry instantly became his "bratty little tagging-along brother."

"I would like to read...some of your writing if you wouldn't mind sharing them with me."

Jerry felt his breath catch in his throat, just for a beat, at her words. "Oh. Um, oh, wow," he stammered, smiling down at the ground and struggling to hold back a full-on, teeth-baring, cheek-cramping grin. "No one... er, I don't think anyone's ever requested to read my work before. I, um, I think... I think I'd like--really, really love to show you, um, some of my... my writing."

"I like...I like all kinds of books, though I think my favorites are by Jane Austen. I particularly enjoy Emma, she's such a wonderful character. Flawed, but she loves and cares so deeply that those flaws are only part of her charm."

Before he could stop himself, Jerry blurted, "Oh, I loved Emma!" Aw, crap. Well, there was only so long he could keep his secret love of Austen from the world. Maybe he could keep Daisy from crossing paths with Jensen and comparing notes for a while longer. If his brother learned of the way Jerry devoured Austen novels--which he kept stacked on the top shelf of his bookcase, wrapped in the dust jackets of different books--he would never, ever hear the end of it.

But what the hell? In for a penny, in for a pound.

"Emma was probably Austen's most realistic character in all of her novels. She found the grail in balancing Emma's attributes with her flaws. All her characters were magnificent, of course, but there was just something about Emma... She was so... so... endearing." He quieted for a moment, side-stepping to avoid a puddle in the sidewalk, using the motion to try to subtly tighten the grip of his arm linked with hers. Jerry realized, with a sense of surprise, that he was really enjoying their walk home. Even if he was still prone to sounding like a fool and blushing like a cherub.

"Sometimes I wish I knew a girl like her," he said, slightly wistfully, after a moment. "I wouldn't mind her getting her nose in my business to try placing me with a match. I think I could rather enjoy it, really. Being set up on a date by a mutual friend must be so much easier. The hardest part is taken care of for you, you know? The first few conversations, where you're chatting a girl up, trying to communicate your desire to get to know each other better, wondering if she's trying to communicate the same desire, trying to work up the nerve to make a move, wondering if she'd be receptive if you did, wondering if you're going to walk away with a fresh slap-mark on your cheek..."

Shit, he was babbling again. He stopped talking abruptly, biting his lip. Every damn time! Every damn time he spoke to a girl, no matter how well it seemed to be going, he always turned into an embarrassing, babbling mess!

[Daisy O'Connor]

There was something endearing in the way he looked so flattered at her request to read his work, something about his barely contained grin that made Daisy want to wrap her arms around him and never let go. He was radiating light and passion for his work as bright as sunshine and if it was possible it made him even more handsome to her eye. "Then I would be honored to be the first to request you're writing. I'll bet it's brilliant."

She couldn't prevent the slight widening of her eyes when he admitted to not only having read Emma but seemingly enjoying it just as immensely as she did, and for all the same reasons. A smile lit her face and she practically beamed at him as he talked about Emma, a fondness for the character laced in ever word. "That's it precisely," Daisy agreed, allowing her fingers to curl around the sleeve of his jacket, the material heavy and rough beneath her hand. "She is so incredibly endearing, you just can't help but like her, no matter the result of her actions."

Jerry shifted suddenly, pulling her with him to avoid a puddle and the movement sent her pressing into his side and she found herself nestling just a little bit closer against his taller frame, using the puddle as an acceptable excuse. She hadn't known when she'd gone to work that day, tired from all the shifts earlier that week and worn with worry of her friends and their plight that he'd walk into her life, but he had and Daisy was utterly...charmed.

She listened as he spoke of the ease of being set up on a date, of not having to deal with the ins and outs of something in life that could no doubt be stressful for some. Daisy enjoyed a good flirt, had to if she was going to work at McGinty's, but finding someone she really connected with, that was an altogether different story. "Aye," She said softly once he lapsed into silence and she looked up at him, tilting her head slightly to watch him carefully. "I suppose there is an ease in that. But what of the unexpected surprise of finding someone in the most unsuspecting place." Like a pub... She thought, but rubbished the thought because her mind was racing far ahead of this simple walk.

"Because I think sometimes...sometimes life has funny little plans for us. Guides us in directions and leads us down paths so we meet people when we are supposed too. What if you miss out on the most fantastically perfect thing because you don't feel with your heart and listen to what someone else suggests?" She let silence lapse again, musing over her own words and simply enjoying his solid presence before she cast him a sideways glance, tugging slightly on his arm to get his attention, smile playing across her features. "I would never slap you, Jerry."

[Jerry Flynn]

Jerry gave a small, self-deprecating chuckle at her words on fate and suggestions of the heart. "That's probably good advice for most people," he agreed, "but I'm... I'm not the kind of person who just... finds people, you know? I don't even find people in the usual places, let alone unexpected places. I've lived here two years, and this is probably the longest conversation I've ever had."

He could hear Jensen's voice in his head, shouting, 'What are you doing?! Are you trying to kill your chances with her?!' And Jensen-voice was right, he probably was about to ruin it for himself. But it was bound to happen sooner or later anyway, might as well cut her loose before he got too attached. Besides, if they lived in the same building, she was bound to run into Jensen eventually, and likely fall head-over-heels for Jerry's brother. Most girls did, and Jerry couldn't blame them--Jensen was suave, confident, charming, able to carry conversation... Everything Jerry couldn't even hope to become.

"I don't belong here. I know that. All you need to do is look at me and you can see that I'm not Brooklyn material. Your friend at the bar could certainly tell right away. I'm an affront to Brooklyn men and an embarrassment to Brooklyn women." He kicked a stone out of the middle of the sidewalk, sending it up against the side of the building they passed where no one passing by could trip over it, and knew that with even that small gesture of potential consideration, he was outing himself as a tourist in the borough.

"I would never slap you, Jerry."

Too ashamed of himself for reverting back into his shell so deeply all of a sudden, Jerry couldn't manage to meet her eyes as he tried to smile, but gently set his hand over hers as she clutched at the sleeve of his jacket.