[Izzy Montoya] If someone were to ask, she’d never admit how much she’s been looking forward to this night. It has nothing to do with the circumstances, nothing to do with the reasoning, and everything to do with the man she’s received permission to spend it with. Of course – she’s not happy about the whole ‘needing permission’ part of it, but there’s very little she can do about that at this point in time. So, she ignores it, and instead, has worked with what she has. The kitchen crew agreed to set out a dinner for them – just the night’s special, nothing that they’d have to go out of their way to make – and there’s a bottle of wine decanting as well next to the table they’ve set for the occasion. Soft music, candlelight – and given the circumstances, it’s the best they can do for her birthday.
Thirty-two.
Oy.
She wasn’t not there, yet – she’s gone home after everything was set up, in order to shower and change – and arrives now, an hour later. Daniel, who’s sitting across the room in order to chaperon will likely have to pick his jaw up. He did not expect her to ask for this – sentiment from such a hard creature – then there is no way he’ll expect what walks through the door.
Izzy.
In a dress.
Not just any dress, but a soft rose colored, decidedly feminine, flirty and floaty dress that falls to her knees, lowcut neckline, and sandals- strappy and heeled – to match. John has seen her dressed to the nines before, but the last was at the policeman’s ball, nearly 8 years ago. Seeing her slide from her coat, and set her bag, and her briefcase in the booth in the back corner where she’ll work her early morning hours away – it likely brings back memories.
And hopefully, takes his breath away when he arrives.
[John Thornton] The door to the Brotherhood opens… A man steps into the room from the darkened cold wearing a long black trench coat, red scarf, and black leather gloves. He smelled faintly of tobacco, and smoke… As though he’d finished a cigarette upon the very doorstep, as though in rekindling his habit he’d exacerbated its effects.
Still, the hazel eyed gaze that flows from a darkened gray without the restaurant to a shade somewhere between blue and green as he enters more fully is bright and alert in spite of the thickly dark circles surrounding it. His hair, for once wasn’t quite the mop with furrows it usually was; perhaps John had combed it in the car or tried to clean up prior to leaving the station. His lips were widened in that wan not a smile, and as the hazel eyed gaze falls upon Izzy, it seems to grow more genuine, if only marginally so.
Upon seeing her, he stops from taking off his trenchcoat, one arm pulled but halfway free of the dark fabric.
Beneath, he wore a suit of charcoal with pencil-thin light gray pinstripes; the piece seemed a homage to older trends, in a classy, nostalgic sort of way. Indeed, it was even a three piece; with a matching vest resting neatly over a crisp, freshly pressed white dress shirt. A silk tie, done in a brilliantly rich, yet not overly ostentatious shade of indigo slashed against the crisp whiteness of his shirt, the solitary bit of color on the man.
Perhaps the only detriment to it all was the leather shoulder holster running beneath the suit jacket, bunching ever so slightly the unblemished white of the dress shirt, worn as it was with the collar buttoned and the tie pulled tight.
After a moment, an almost overly long moment, John finishes removing his coat and carries it folded neatly over one arm as he approaches Izzy. Barely noticed… A small red box, with a bow of simple white ribbon on top.
[Izzy Montoya] The door opens, and she looks up from where she was setting her stuff aside, going so far as to turn her phone off. She told Sarge she was not available tonight, at least not for a while. He didn’t argue – just glad she’s not sleeping in his station any longer. She sets the phone on the table next to her laptop, and straightens. She’s not wearing her gun – it’s in her bag, of course – because it would mar the sleek and soft lines of her dress, and shockingly? Izzy has a feminine side.
She steps toward him, her smirk more of a smile than usual, warmth lingering around the edges as dark eyes slide over him, and back upwards to meet his own, dark depths sparkling with something, something few people ever see; warmth, affection, comfort, intimacy. The injuries are fading fast now, and she’s gone through the trouble to put on makeup to further minimize the mottled color that still stains her skin, though within a week they’ll be gone completely.
“Wow.” It’s what she says first. Though she planned to dress up for him, she had not expected the same in return. “You still clean up fuckin’ nice.” Some things never change…
She closes the distance between them, and lifts her chin to brush a kiss along his cheek, her fingertips touching his jaw, her breath warm across his skin. She hasn’t seen him since the day in the station – she didn’t realize just how much she missed him until right now.
“Thanks for coming.” She doesn’t even notice the little box. He has her entire attention, in a way no one else ever does.
[John Thornton] “Thanks for inviting me… And Miss Pot, I appreciate the compliment under the guise of Mr. Kettle.
You look wonderful.”
The kiss brushes tantalizingly against his cheek, and were his hands not full, he might perhaps have swept her from her feet… Were not Daniel setting mere yards away to monitor them. Inwardly, John bristled… Outwardly, he seemed composed.
As it is, the arm holding the trenchcoat pulls her into a gentle, chaste hug, just the merest of pressure against the small of her back in doing so.
“I’m pleased to see I guessed correctly in choosing to go too formal instead of too informal.”
[Izzy Montoya] He pulls her into a chaste hug, and he can feel her quick inhale, merely a soft, electrified gasp. Were they not watched, were Daniel not just waiting for something to happen, to keep them apart, he would sweep her off her feet…
And in that soft catch of her breath, he knows she would let him.
“Well, I figured you hadn’t seen me dressed up on oh, almost a decade or so… giving you something to look at seemed like the appropriate call.” She reaches for and takes his trenchcoat, and lays it on the table with her stuff, before sliding her hand lightly around the crook of his elbow, to lead him to the set table. “I’ve no idea what they made us for dinner. Jenny said she’d take care of everything.”
Daniel – as he might have expected – is completely ignored. In her eyes – aside from her forced good behavior – he simply doesn’t exist. She doesn’t think that he may be surprised at seeing her with John, seeing the softer side of the hard ass Fenrir, and she doesn’t dare think of any consequences that she may suffer later for it. Tonight – it’s her night, and she will spend it with the man she cares about most.
[John Thornton] John places his coat on the back of a nearby table, draping it over the back of a chair absently before moving to the seat he supposes was for Izzy. Pulling it out for her, he waits patiently at the back of the chair, as hazel eyes consider the table settings.
Then… perhaps briefly… slowly… like the inexorable draw of a magnet in water toward the earth’s pole, the hazel eyes are drawn to the mural on the wall. They take on a distant, haunted cast, as though he were seeing something in a world other than this one, in a time other than this…
Then, after a few moments, John blinks, his attention returning to Izzy. He smiles that wan not-a-smile as he answers…
“I’m thankful you did. Though dressing up once a decade seems somewhat inadequate…”
His tone is amused, as though he knew full well how easy that was to manage with the odd hours and never-ending shifts. May as well wish for the Moon as for a night off in their chosen vocation.
[Izzy Montoya] She settles to the chair as he holds it for her, and considers the covered plates on the table as well. He drifts off a moment, though, his eyes finding the mural on the wall, and she looks up at him first – then follows his gaze briefly, before studying him once more. She is a perceptive creature, Izzy, and misses very little. She says nothing about it though, merely captures his hand in hers and squeezing it lightly. She’ll ask around later, maybe even ask him later – but for now, she lets it rest.
He bemoans her once in a decade choice, and she chuckles. “Well most my dates don’t leave the comfort of my own home.” Or her bed. “But since you’re so appreciative, maybe I’ll make an exception more often…”
She’s amused as well, even as she pulls the covers off their plates, discovering the steak, potatoes and veggies underneath. She inhales appreciatively, and the sets the covers aside, on the small table that holds a small cake as well. Jenny outdid herself.
“And since wine is not my forte,” a whiskey girl, Izzy, “I’ve no idea if that’s any good or not – but you should pour us some anyway.”
[John Thornton] “I’m not exactly a professional wine critic either, Iz…”
He pushes in her chair and moves to the seat beside her at the table, placing the small red box off to the side of his place setting. Then, taking the wine bottle in hand, he considers the label for a few moments before working on it with the corkscrew.
It was a professional, restaurant style contraption, which complicated things… But John ultimately found a way to make it work something like what he had in mind. Wordlessly, he pours the two glasses to the height he’d seen in some restaurants, as though he had a clue how to serve wine.
“That smells heavenly…”
Then, replacing the wine bottle in the decanter, John takes his seat beside Izzy at the table and places a napkin across his left thigh.
“Still… Seeing you dressed up like that is a rare treat; I suspect if you did it more often, you’d need your pepper spray to keep the guys at bay.”
He nearly said wolves… John’s brow furrows as he realizes the almost deft adjustment.
[Izzy Montoya] Her lips fall into that easy smirk, which he would note is still a good deal warmer than her usual bemused expression. He’s different. He always has been, and that night spent together near a month ago now still burns in her memory, and overshadows all others. There was something different that night – something she’s never had before, and while she still maintains something that resembles her normal lifestyle (as normal as possible under current circumstances) it’s that night she thinks of first…
And he has a little red box.
She glances at it, her brow arching slightly, questioningly, curiously – even eagerly, as she reaches to take her glass and a sip of the wine within – surprised to find it is indeed good. She watches him, and the shakes her head. “What, you don’t think i need my pepper spray normally?”
She unfolds her napkin, and lays it across her lap, and reaches for her fork, digging in. She’s starving, and suffers none of the prissy girl obsession with not eating in front of a man. She’s always been one of the guys – even looking as she does tonight. Still, she teases. “I’ll try to bend over something so you get a good chance to stare at my ass…”
Just like old times.
[John Thornton] John smiles that wan not-a-smile, and then winks at Izzy while speaking…
“Promise?”
It seemed that, in spite of his usually unfeeling demeanor, John could, if occasion called for it, be one of the guys as well. He digs in as well, and sighs contentedly as the wine and food seem to unload the weight of his cares from his shoulders…
To some degree, at any rate.
Then, after a sip of wine and wiping his mouth with his napkin, he continues.
“With regards to pepper spray, I have little doubt of it. However… I’ve never seen you mace somebody who wasn’t a suspect, so… I imagined you employed some other methods.”
[Izzy Montoya] “Absolutely.” She returns that wink. She knows full well John could be one of the guys. She knows it better than anyone, likely, due to years spent partnered together. Stakeouts, driving the beat, being together more than anyone is with a spouse… you learn things. From the best, to the most annoying, she’s pretty sure nothing about her would shock him at this point, either. They just fit. Being with him is like wrapping up in a soft warm comforter by a roaring fire.
“As you well know, I do have my talents…” That smirk, is all but all out wicked, there. Daring, Izzy, even with their watcher. She crosses her legs under the table, which allows her toe to slide against his calf, seemingly innocently, with each little swing of her foot.
“You, on the other hand – how some other girl at the station hasn’t trapped you into marriage yet, I’ll never understand.” She doesn’t mention the wolves. She doesn’t mention those hes lost in the past year… she does her best to confine the tease to the few women they work with in their male dominated field.
[John Thornton] “Well… There was one in Fraud a few years back. But that didn’t end well. I suspect the rest learned from her mistake.”
He takes another sip of wine, his smile equal parts sad and amused.
“She said I was married to the job. That I kept taking it home and couldn’t leave it where it belonged. I’ll never know how she failed to see that ahead of time, but once realization set in, she and I split up.
This was while you were in Miami… Two years down the drain. I think she ended up marrying a real estate agent or something similar.”
He takes a bite of the steak and potatoes, chewing quietly as he considers… Swallowing before speaking.
“Since then… I haven’t really had time. What about you, Iz? How is it some rich, princely gentlemen didn’t take you to his private island in the keys when you were in Miami?”
[Izzy Montoya] She listens, and nods, understanding. She takes a sip of her wine, letting it settle across her tongue before swallowing as she sets the glass back on the table and goes back to the meal.
She thinks about the question a moment, before she chuckles and shakes her head. “You know the rules.”
But that doesn’t really answer the question at all, does it? Dark eyes get lost in a memory, for just a second or four, and then she pulls back to the present. That’s not a memory that needs told tonight that needs explained.
“There was one that got past the rules, but like yours, it ended badly after about two years. We were working the Bay Harbor Butcher case at the time, and I was spending obscene hours working the case. He couldn’t handle it – and forced a choice on me. Said it was him or the force – and I chose duty over love.”
And it’s not the first time she’s done so. She’s know all her life that she was kin, and so very often when the choice is forced on her, she chooses duty. “I’ve just not found anyone that could understand the duty, and love me anyway.”
[John Thornton] “Yeah… People suck.”
John eats quietly for a few moments, finishing the steak and potatoes on his plate. Hazel eyes narrow slightly…
“But enough about people that suck…”
John winks, his eyes flitting in Daniel’s direction briefly, that wan not-a-smile returning to his lips.
“For now… Let’s focus on happier things. Like this little red box, for example.”
He stands from his chair, takes the box in hand, and walks over to Izzy. Placing it before her on the table, he leans over and kisses her on the cheek gently.
“Happy birthday, Iz.”
And with that, he gathers up his coat, and starts for the door. Duty calls… As duty always does.
[Izzy Montoya] She follows that gaze, and chuckles softly, and then she can’t deny it – her eyes light up as he mentions the little red box and places it next to her. She tips her head, leaning into that kiss gently, her fingertips lifting to cup his jaw, caressing lightly.
“Thanks, John…”
And as he starts to go, she opens the box to discover what’s inside, and gasps softly at the necklace she finds within – it’s beautiful, and expensive, the amethyst glittering in the silver setting. He knows well her secret girly side, and she suddenly stands…
“John! Wait!” and with light steps, catches up to him at the door, the box in her hand. Then, with a glance at Daniel – he won’t like this, and she doesn’t care – she slides her arms around his neck and presses close, studying him for a long moment, her expression open and completely unguarded, as it is for him alone. Finally, she lifts on her toes, smiles, and claims his lips with her own, putting it all into that lingering kiss.
A breathless murmur when she pulls back – and she doesn’t want to pull back, that much is clear as well – and rests her head against his shoulder briefly, breathing deeply of his scent… “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”
She doesn’t want to let him go, but she can feel the glare of Daniel’s eyes boring into her back, so she pulls away, slowly. Whatever punishment he delivers for her goodbye? Will be worth it.
[John Thornton] ((Methinks that reads like the perfect fade; I have hard time topping it. *chuckle* Thanks for the rp; I look forward to their next installment.))
[Izzy Montoya] (me too! Thanks for playing! :) )