Eleanor and Gottfried

Eleanor smiled at him.

"Farewell for now, then. We'll meet here on Friday and then decide the location for our date. Deal?"

He bowed.

"If you insist."

-x-

Gottfried paced in front of the bookstore, biting his nails. That girl wasn't anywhere to be seen; perhaps she wouldn't show up? Sure, he was fifteen minutes early, but one could hope.

He couldn't believe he had agreed to it--him, on a date! He had been swept up in the moment, done in by his own false airs and bravado. He was no ladies man, merely a European fop who had been too skittish to lose his virginity for hundreds of years.

Perhaps he'd tell her when she showed up. Yes, that was it; he'd tell her right then and there, "something's come up."

He wished he could actually believe he'd say that.

Eleanor waved her hand once she saw him, pulling her scarf down.

"Hello!" she replied, smiling at him. "How has your week been?"

"Dreary, as life itself is wont to be. Why, has your week been particularly interesting?"

God dammit, he thought to himself as he bowed like some kind of charming asshole.

"No, it never is," she replied, smiling charmingly at him. "I was hoping yours would have been more interesting. A desk job isn't much of a life."

She giggled, hiding behind her beautiful nails.

"Shall we go to lunch?"

"Desk job, you say?" he said, offering his arm. His tone was bored, but inside he was shaking like a little girl in a blizzard.

"Lunch sounds interesting enough. Any place you prefer, miss?"

"I type reports and file paperwork and do very, very boring work. Not suited for a beautiful woman like me," she laughed quietly, pushing her hair behind her shoulder before she took his arm. "Like a true gentleman."

Eleanor acted confidently only because she refused to screw this up. This was the farthest she had gotten with a suspected vampire. The others had tried to kill her or eat her. A shame, really.

"I know of a cafe you should enjoy," she said, leading him along. "I know I enjoy it."

"I hope it won't bore me to death," he said coolly, shrugging. "I do so appreciate stimulation of any kind."

"It's fantastic, trust me," she assured him, walking at a brisk pace. If things went well, she'd have him bedded by the night.

"You don't drag your heels, for a woman," he commented. "It's rather...refreshing, for once. Don't expect to continue to impress me."

If he were a human, he would probably have vomited by now. His hands were cold and numb and his legs felt like jelly, but on he walked in the presence of this intimidating female. She seemed sweet enough, but...perhaps it was his paranoia acting up, but he could almost feel something more sinister beneath it.

He wanted to shove her into a puddle and run in the other direction, but gentlemanly babble kept on emitting from his mouth. He couldn't help it; it was his nervous habit.

"Of course not. I wouldn't want to waste my time or yours. You seem like a very lovely gentleman with a life, wasting your time would be rude," she replied, nodding. "Ah, here we are!"

She gestured to the cafe, which was covered in what appeared to be caked on texturized paint. Deep blues made the sky, dark yellows the stars.

"It's themed after Vincent Van Gogh's paintings."

"...How droll," he said, holding the door open for her. He didn't even know what that damn word meant.

She frowned.

"You don't like it?" she asked, pouting. "Well...we can go somewhere else, then! I promise, I'll find someplace better!"

"Did I say this place wouldn't do?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "This place has my interest, for the moment--no need to fret, miss."

"Oh..." she blushed, feeling embarrassment flood her cheeks. "W-well...let's order something to drink, then."

Eleanor purposefully sat down next to one of her favorite Van Gogh paintings, in a somewhat private corner. She pulled out her wallet.

"Do you drink coffee?"

"I don't drink...coffee," he said. He had a vague nagging feeling that he was making some sort of awful cliche reference, but he couldn't be sure. He stared casually at his hands, wishing he were anywhere else in the world but here.

"Tea? Or a smoothie?" she asked politely, toying with her wallet a bit nervously. "I'll pay."

"I am not thirsty--conversation will suffice." In reality he was rather parched, but it was because he hadn't sunk his teeth into a human for a week or so.

She nodded.

"Alright, just hold on for a few moments, then," she nodded and walked over to the counter, ordering herself a small smoothie. She waited patiently, reapplying her lipstick and filing her very perfect nails. Once she had her smoothie, she thanked the man working the counter and sat back with Gottfried.

"Thanks for waiting. Now...where were we?"

"You were offering me beverages," he said, meeting her eyes calmly. He hoped his fear of her wasn't evident.

"Ah, and you aren't thirsty. Just want to talk," she sipped her smoothie, leaving lipstick stains on the straw. "Well, what shall we talk about? About Van Gogh? About the renaissance? Art? Music?

"Anything you'd like, miss--I came here to hear you speak, after all." .He flexed his fingers and glanced at the walls;he could feel anxiety eating away at the walls of his stomach. He felt like he was about to pass out, and fall straight into the whirling patterns of the The Starry Night mural behind him,

"Ah...well, I wanted to talk anout Van Gogh, obviously. I really love the way he uses paints to make textures. It's absolutely beautiful, don't you agree?" She asked, sucking on her smoothie.

"He was also insane and obnoxious," he said, shrugging. "A madman if there ever as one, and bad company. I prefer artists from the Renaissance--they appreciated the beauty of the human form."

He slipped his hand over hers, inwardly screaming.

"Humans can be quite beautiful, don't you agree?"

Eleanor inwardly screamed as well, for seperate reasons. This was going so well, she could barely wait to ask him home.

"Indeed," she replied dreamily. "Van Gogh was insane, but he made beautiful art."