Where: Pearlies Diner
When: April 18, 2012
What: The two have a common topic to gripe about and plenty of ways to rock the boat.
After a stressful day at work, there is nothing Rylie likes more than some greasy diner food. Sure, it isn't good for her, and she'll probably reject it after, but nevertheless, she's there, head popping to the Fifties music as she looks over a menu. She's by herself at a smaller table, still dressed professionally for her work with in the Mayor's office.
It's extra bad when she doesn't even both going home to change before going out. It leaves her looking more work than play, but it'll have to do.
A day of classes and an afternoon hunting for a replacement camera can work up an appetite. And what better place to satiate that appetite than Pearlies? Zan lets himself into the familiar establishment. One hand keeps a careful grip on the pack slung from a shoulder, the other hand resting casually inside a pants pocket. His glance over the rest of the patron is casual, the fleeting look reserved for scoping out an open seat as he takes a menu and starts down the line of booths in search for a table.
Rylie looks up to see him making the rounds, and since she's got the room and should really probably be nice to her boss' family, he just may spot a wave of her hand.
"Zan, hey," she says, using his first name even though their acquaintance is just in passing at the moment, "You look a little lost." She nods to the seat opposite her, leaving the invite open.
The voice is heard before the wave is noticed, and Zan turns in the direction his name is called from. His brows arch upward a little, surprised and uncertain for just a second until he finds a grin and accepts the invitation. Mind, it's borderline forced, but pleasantries remain all the same. He's aware of the rumors circulating about this woman and his father. And they are just rumors. His pack precedes him into the booth, slide along until he comes in beside it. "Rylie," he replies. Cordial but not too familiar. "I find I need food, don't feel like going home for it."
"Yeah, same here. I'm just really in the mood for a pile of meat and carbs and terrible, terrible things," Rylie says with a bit of a mime of things piling up on her invisible plate. But her hands drop to the menu and she smiles as she passes it across to him. She knows what she wants, apparently.
"It's probably best, too. Your dad is in a mood today," she notes with a whistle. She seems used to the rumors, and unconcerned what people might make of her being seen with the mayor's son, too. But then, the chances of paparazzi showing up are slim indeed.
"When isn't he in a mood?" Zan replies derisively as he takes the menu. "I'm sure whatever got his ire today will roll downhill and collect in the dip that's Alexander Caldecott." His eyes slide over the menu for a moment, lips pursing and twisting to one side while he considers his choices. "Besides being in a mood, how is the mayor doing?"
"That's a fair point," Rylie says with a chuckle. Whatever got him upset, she's left it back at the office, it seems. "And I took my turn, so you're next." When the waitress stops by, Rylie orders a coffee for herself, but since Zan still has the menu, the woman leaves them after getting drink orders. "Oh, you know. Busy, busy, busy. Stressed out. As usual." But she waves it off and settles her arms into a fold on the table. "Can I ask what's in the bag?"
"I look forward to going home tonight," Zan says in deadpan. It's no secret he doesn't get along with his father, convinced that the mayor finds fault in everything he does. He sets the menu aside finally, deciding on something half way edible. "Oh, the usual," he answers as he glances toward the pack then looks at Rylie again. "Puppies, explosives, green ink." A beat passes. "Just books for school. Where I spend my time when I'm not home."
"Sneak in the back, he'll never know." Rylie winks over at him, but she's just turning to glance at how quick their waitress can get there with drinks when he answers her question. She swings back around to give him a weird look, but it fades into a smirk when he goes on. "Don't mess with me, it's not funny." Despite her smiling over it. "What are you in school for?" If his dad complains about it at work, it's hard to tell.
Brows lift up again at that weird look, but Zan otherwise keeps a fairly neutral expression. "You're right," he says, "I'm sorry. It's not that funny." Hilarious maybe, though he doesn't show it. "Just… Film. Mostly. I'd like to become a screenwriter, but right now I'm just learning to put things together sensibly. You watch some of those movies, even really old Charlie Chaplin films? Those aren't easy."
For a moment, Rylie looks like she feels… bad. She reaches over the table to put a hand on his arm. "I was just giving you a hard time," she says before she leans back again. Her eyebrows lift as he goes on, though, and she gives a nod. "Really? A screenwriter, huh? Got some idea percolating that you're aiming for?" Speaking of percolating, she looks again or the waitress and this time finds her coming their way with precious coffee. So she turns back again and lets her drop it all off as Rylie continues to Zan. "You'd think the old ones would have been the easiest. I don't know much about film, how were they not easy?" It's almost like she's not sure she totally believes that.
The show of sympathy cracks that neutral surface and he grins. Again his brows tick upward, though he shakes his head. "Sorry. No, I know. I'm fail, it was lame. Anyway." He nods to the waitress. "Yeah, putting together something even that simple isn't easy. It takes time, not just the filming, and things don't happen in just one take. Then you have to edit it, put it all together. And you're talking a reel of film for ten minutes of footage."
"It's alright. I'm lame pretty much constantly." She doesn't seem to mind it, though. She listens as he explains, though, brow furrowing a bit. "I guess I never thought about how big a project a movie must be. Now that's all digital, though, right? No giant warehouses for your footage reels and that kinda thing?"
"A lot of it's digital." Zan picks at the table, fingernail tracing a line along the laminate top. "Easier to manipulate and edit. It's all… still a little over my head. But it's only my first year. I'm still doing a lot of the traditionally required classes, but I should be getting into the more techncial, degree-oriented stuff I think." He grins slightly and shakes his head. "I hope anyway. You ever walk down the strip and just watch people? Or anything like that? It's great study for writing, how people interact and react."
"Well, then I'll be looking forward to hearing about it when you've got some of those classes under your belt," Rylie says, although it's hard to say if she's just being polite. It's a left over from work, where she always has to be. But she perks up a bit as he goes on.
"I do actually. Well, people on a dance floor, mostly. When I'm not filing things," she says, although that undersells her job quite a bit, "I'm a DJ. You kind of have all this time to watch the people. It helps deciding what kind of music to go to."
"You're a DJ?" Zan almost laughs. Not mocking though. Surprised. He hadn't pictured the woman as the DJ type, especially considering who she works for. "That's awesome. I haven't been dancing since high school." Which was oh, so long ago? "Do you ever change up the beats when you're swapping songs? Go from something almost techno to something very hip hop just to see the reactions?"
"Yeah, I mean, believe it or not, politics isn't my cuppa, either. I'm in this job for my dad, mostly," Rylie notes, her smile looking a bit ironic as she looks over the table. "Music is what I really love. I picked up DJing in college. Frat boys. Gold. Mine." Her smile widens, but she shifts to stick her hands under her legs. It can't possibly be from the cold, but maybe to still wild gesturing. "Sometimes. I'll need to try it out at a dry party to really get a reaction. When people have been drinking, they're pretty unconcerned with the music."
There's just a little pause before her head tilts and her expression looks a little more amused. "You haven't been dancing lately? Well. This weekend I'm doing a thing out in the desert. If you're game, I can get you in." A thing out in the desert probably implies it having less-than-legal elements, but hey. It's Vegas.
"That sounds like it might beat a weekend at home," Zan says with a grin. "Intriguing, and I should have a new camera by then." A thing, regardless of its legality, would be something to add to his collection of random real world clips. "Definitely. Let's do it." And never mind that he'll catch hell for going. Maybe that's part of the allure.
"It'll definitely do that," Rylie says with a laugh. After all, she knows what the Mayor's week will be like. And that it'll be no good for anyone's stress level. "I'll pick you up Friday then. Wear something you don't mind getting covered in glow paint and probably spilled drinks and such." And this time, when the waitress passes by, Rylie flags her down to order food. She was not kidding about needing food, if the size of her order is anything to go by.
