[Dean really needn't worry, it isn't going to be another one of those "so that person who recently left? I was sleeping with them" conversations. At the current juncture, Evelyn is trying very hard to forget that Will Graham happened to her.
She does end up catching a small table in the corner, procuring two glasses and a bottle of her brother's second-favourite whisky just to play things somewhat differently.
He'll find her there, quietly examining the label.]
[ dean doesn't take long to get down to the bar, only checking a few things before he's on his way. any previous feelings of something being wrong about all of this have been all but forgotten, too, in favor of simply enjoying the fact that she's reached out to him. ]
Find any ancient, hidden codes in the label? [ is his greeting once he arrives, and dean slips to his seat, a small smile on his face. ]
[An indulgent smile follows his introductory comment as Evelyn slides the bottle in his direction, folding her arms and resting her elbows on the table.]
No old riddles, sadly. It's one of my brother's favourite brands.
[She nods at the top, cork still firmly in place. Dean has the honours.]
[ my brother's favorite brands is almost a riddle in itself, but one dean doesn't plan on unraveling today, nope. so instead he tugs the bottle closer, inspecting it closer.
nice. ]
Well damn, don't mind if I do then.
[ smile! dean opens the bottle with a practiced move, cork twisting off in a smooth motion. after that he's pouring her a glass before moving to his own. ]
There... and there. [ he's eager to taste it. but before that, he looks back to her. ] So I know you said this ain't a special occasion but the bottle almost says otherwise.
[Evelyn pulls her drink closer, lifting it to her lips and shrugging with her eyebrows in a conspicuous sort of way, as though she were trying very hard to appear nonchalant.
The whisky burns with liquid confidence.]
I can't simply enjoy a drink in the company of a friend?
[ HMMMMM dean makes a thoughtful sound which is anything but thoughtful. ]
You can when it's not you enjoying a drink with a friend that happens to be me. Especially just outta the blue.
[ her even directly calling him a friend is already something to raise a brow at! not that they aren't, but considering things which have happened lately...... well, he doubts he needs to start going into further detail. but calling each other friends-- it's just something they've never done before, have they? it's weird.
you're weird.
this is weird.
but dean's just gonna drink his drink and look expectantly, if not a little cheekily, at evie. ]
[Evelyn, who is not an actress and is abominably bad at maintaining a poker face when not playing poker, frowns at his apparent ability to read her like a book and is simultaneously disappointed with herself for not doing a better job of lying.
Cheeky, indeed.
She inhales slowly, exhales with a sharpness that could cut glass, and acquiesces to his silent request that she extrapolate.]
I wanted to thank you for that day in August. And...I know you're going to say that anyone would have done the same, and perhaps that's true, but "anyone else" didn't. You did.
[Evelyn looks down into her drink briefly before making eye contact.]
[ it's funny because dean's thought about that day often, the feeling of utter horror which had frozen something deep inside of when he'd seen her laid out on the beach, skin cold and clothes bloodied. he'd wished there had been more he could have done, and as much as he'd tried to do the right thing during those intense hours he'd spent hovering around her, in the end he can't help but feel like he'd only barely gotten through the whole thing without fucking it up further.
so for her to thank him is-- it's not what he expected. not now. he's silent for a long time before trying to wave her off. ]
You know no one else would've left you out there either, Evie. I just happened to stumble to the scene first-- nothing more to it. [ see, no biggie. ] Just messed up you even had to go through that.
[she half-mumbles, tucking a loose curl behind one ear. These days she doesn't sleep well, eats little, and why should she? She doesn't need it and she has no appetite, maintaining the status quo for the comfort of others is the best she can do - keeping up appearances would be exhausting if she actually felt tired.
Dean is unaccustomed to accepting thanks in spite of the work he does on a regular basis; Evelyn wonders how much self-worth his father tried to drum out of him in foisting the responsibility of parenting on his eldest son.]
[ dean doesn't really know how to take that, how to react-- so he just sort of stares at her. which might be uncharacteristic of him, when he fails to throw some quip at her or even offer a smug smile. it goes on for a long moment, then he finally exhales a breath he hadn't realized he was holding in the first place. ]
...Even if someone else had found you, you can bet your pretty butt I would've busted down their door to check in on you.
[ and a smile! because it's true. if someone had come onto the network, pale-faced and mumbling the story of what had happened to her, dean wouldn't have been able to stay away. ]
Evelyn's faith in Dean's unwavering desire to help those he cares for is firmly founded - were she the gambling sort, she would bet a good deal of money on that. It is a strangely easy declaration to take at face value, knowing that Dean has never lied to her. Twice now in a single conversation Evelyn has caught him at a loss for words and the novelty of that alone is unusual.
She knows. Privately, she thinks she's known for a long time, at least since he called her without prompting to warn her against trusting any word that slithered out of Hannibal's mouth.]
I still have your shirt, by the by, [she informs him conversationally, slipping into an easier subject to digest.] You're not getting it back.
[ in all honesty, dean had entirely forgotten about the shirt. in the hassle and fright of her return on that day, he had simply yanked the best shirt he could find for the situation and gone with it. the rest was almost a blur of worrying about her.
now though, he smirks, leaning back a little as he raises a brow-- all while glad for the change of subject. ]
You're holding it hostage? You know, that was one of my favorites.
[ ah well. there are worse people to lose good shirts to. ]
[she simpers, dropping calculated sympathy into her whisky as easily as one might a piece of ice.]
I think you'll recover from the loss in good time. It's very comfortable.
[The little tag in it says "100% Cotton" but it's unlike any cotton Evelyn has ever come into contact with in her lifetime. The future is a place rife with odd fabrics and even odder collars and shirtsleeves, it seems.]
I'm still not entirely sure why someone would build a zeppelin out of lead, but...
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She does end up catching a small table in the corner, procuring two glasses and a bottle of her brother's second-favourite whisky just to play things somewhat differently.
He'll find her there, quietly examining the label.]
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Find any ancient, hidden codes in the label? [ is his greeting once he arrives, and dean slips to his seat, a small smile on his face. ]
S'a nice looking bottle.
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No old riddles, sadly. It's one of my brother's favourite brands.
[She nods at the top, cork still firmly in place. Dean has the honours.]
He has...expensive taste.
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nice. ]
Well damn, don't mind if I do then.
[ smile! dean opens the bottle with a practiced move, cork twisting off in a smooth motion. after that he's pouring her a glass before moving to his own. ]
There... and there. [ he's eager to taste it. but before that, he looks back to her. ] So I know you said this ain't a special occasion but the bottle almost says otherwise.
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The whisky burns with liquid confidence.]
I can't simply enjoy a drink in the company of a friend?
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You can when it's not you enjoying a drink with a friend that happens to be me. Especially just outta the blue.
[ her even directly calling him a friend is already something to raise a brow at! not that they aren't, but considering things which have happened lately...... well, he doubts he needs to start going into further detail. but calling each other friends-- it's just something they've never done before, have they? it's weird.
you're weird.
this is weird.
but dean's just gonna drink his drink and look expectantly, if not a little cheekily, at evie. ]
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Cheeky, indeed.
She inhales slowly, exhales with a sharpness that could cut glass, and acquiesces to his silent request that she extrapolate.]
I wanted to thank you for that day in August. And...I know you're going to say that anyone would have done the same, and perhaps that's true, but "anyone else" didn't. You did.
[Evelyn looks down into her drink briefly before making eye contact.]
...so, thank you.
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so for her to thank him is-- it's not what he expected. not now. he's silent for a long time before trying to wave her off. ]
You know no one else would've left you out there either, Evie. I just happened to stumble to the scene first-- nothing more to it. [ see, no biggie. ] Just messed up you even had to go through that.
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[she half-mumbles, tucking a loose curl behind one ear. These days she doesn't sleep well, eats little, and why should she? She doesn't need it and she has no appetite, maintaining the status quo for the comfort of others is the best she can do - keeping up appearances would be exhausting if she actually felt tired.
Dean is unaccustomed to accepting thanks in spite of the work he does on a regular basis; Evelyn wonders how much self-worth his father tried to drum out of him in foisting the responsibility of parenting on his eldest son.]
For what it's worth, I'm glad it was you.
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...Even if someone else had found you, you can bet your pretty butt I would've busted down their door to check in on you.
[ and a smile! because it's true. if someone had come onto the network, pale-faced and mumbling the story of what had happened to her, dean wouldn't have been able to stay away. ]
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[He's delightfully predictable that way.
Evelyn's faith in Dean's unwavering desire to help those he cares for is firmly founded - were she the gambling sort, she would bet a good deal of money on that. It is a strangely easy declaration to take at face value, knowing that Dean has never lied to her. Twice now in a single conversation Evelyn has caught him at a loss for words and the novelty of that alone is unusual.
She knows. Privately, she thinks she's known for a long time, at least since he called her without prompting to warn her against trusting any word that slithered out of Hannibal's mouth.]
I still have your shirt, by the by, [she informs him conversationally, slipping into an easier subject to digest.] You're not getting it back.
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now though, he smirks, leaning back a little as he raises a brow-- all while glad for the change of subject. ]
You're holding it hostage? You know, that was one of my favorites.
[ ah well. there are worse people to lose good shirts to. ]
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[she simpers, dropping calculated sympathy into her whisky as easily as one might a piece of ice.]
I think you'll recover from the loss in good time. It's very comfortable.
[The little tag in it says "100% Cotton" but it's unlike any cotton Evelyn has ever come into contact with in her lifetime. The future is a place rife with odd fabrics and even odder collars and shirtsleeves, it seems.]
I'm still not entirely sure why someone would build a zeppelin out of lead, but...