I do not doubt I am to meet you again

[backstreetbard]

[ There is an argument to be made that uprooting your entire life and moving to another continent for a 'change of scenery' is overdoing it, but the fact that Dorothea is sitting on a train in Tokyo with a few bags of groceries is proof that she didn't seem to agree. It's been a huge adjustment, to put things mildly--adjusting to a new culture while you still haven't mastered the language is a tall order, but she's always been a fast learner.

One thing in particular that she's learned since her arrival is that she apparently attracts just as many creepy guys here as she did back home. Today's unwanted flirtation comes from a guy in a studded leather jacket who flops down in the empty spot next to her and immediately leans into her personal space, draping his arm behind her along the back of the seat.

Hey, ojou-chan, you're pretty cute. Are your eyes naturally that color?

Dorothea gives him an exasperated look and immediately says: ]

I'm not interested.

[ The man leans back in apparent surprise, probably not used to women shooting him down so immediately, but Dorothea's expression is mild as she shakes her head. She's done this a hundred times and it kind of shows.

Don't be so cold, ojou-chan. You're obviously not from here, so you need someone to take you around, right? I promise I'll show you a good time. Just give me a chance.

Dorothea holds up her index finger and types something into her phone, then turns it so he can get a good look at the screen. A translation app reiterates her statement from the moment before in large, clear print: I am not interested. ]

I'm not going to go out with you. Please leave me alone.

[ Their interaction is beginning to draw attention, people openly staring as she continues to rebuff him. She knows this is causing a scene, but she also doesn't care--he's the one who started it, not her, so why should she be embarrassed?

Hey, I'm just trying to be friendly! You don't have to be such a bitch about it! ]

Comments

[backstreetbard]

Oh! That's good, then. Perfect!

[ He wants to go with her! She didn't mess up! Or maybe she did but he doesn't mind? Either way, Dorothea beams up at him, sighing in relief as she digs her phone out of her back pocket. This is better than just writing her number down for him on a playbill that could get lost or torn.

Holding her phone face up, a QR code on the screen, she says: ]

Let's exchange contact info, then. That way we can make plans.

[ Once that's done, she sends him a text with the café's address and a cute 💖 emoji, her actual heart still racing in her chest even though all they've done is agree to meet up for tea and pain-au-chocolat. He's little more than a handsome stranger right now, for all intents and purposes, but something about him leaves her feeling a girlish sort of giddiness that she hasn't felt in a long time.

She can't stay with him too much longer, though, with other people needing her attention for the duration of the meet-and-greet. Nanami receives a polite little bow before she hurries off to work her magic on everyone else she meets, but she texts him again later that evening with her schedule.

It's about half a week later on an otherwise unremarkable Thursday afternoon when Dorothea sweeps into the café in a green mini-dress that swirls around her thighs and knee-high boots that make her seem even taller than she already does. She's punctual--a few minutes early, even--but Nanami is already there. He's easy enough to spot with his shock of blond hair, and she makes her way over to his table with a smile. ]

You're here so early! I hope I didn't keep you waiting very long?

[choukin]

[ She smiles so brightly that it almost hurts. And in that moment, he knows that his fate is sealed. Or, at least, is entirely within her delicate and well-manicured hands. The choice has been taken away from him. ]

Of course. I'll look forward to it.

[ And he does, even if his tone is significantly more dry and reserved than hers might be. He takes out his phone in turn, trading contact information and making sure to save her.

But of course, he has to step out of the line sooner or later. This is an event, and there are other customers. He heads back into the world, his head spinning, feeling like he's drank entirely too much sake and let himself get tipsy, but once again, it's all simply because of her. The effect that she has on him. And now they're making plans. He's going to see her again. Properly.

Will he even survive it? He hopes so.

He's early to the cafe, of course, because he's never the type to leave someone waiting. He's gone for something a little more understated than his occasionally garish sense of style, but is still dressed nicely in a well-fitting suit and a tie hanging around his throat, this time a dark wine color. He sees her immediately when she walks in, having been deliberately waiting, watching, and she all but takes his breath away again. Somehow, she looks even more beautiful like this - not in her full, glamorous Opera makeup, not studded with gems and lush fabrics, but something, he suspects, far more her. He tries not to let himself linger on the flash of thigh she offers, and mostly succeeds. ]

No, not too long, [ he says, rising to meet her - and to extend her chair. He's been there perhaps ten minutes before her, which in the grand scheme of things isn't too much. ] I just wanted to make sure we had a table waiting.

[backstreetbard]

[ Dorothea sometimes battles with herself now that she lives in a culture so different from her own. Punctuality is paramount here, where it's less of an issue to be fashionably late in France. She could tell just by looking at him that Nanami is the type to show up precisely on time, but for him to have arrived nearly twenty minutes early just to make sure they had a table almost seems excessive. Is he that excited to spend time with her or is she reading too much into it?

Nanami stands to pull out her chair for her and Dorothea graciously takes her seat. ]

You're too kind.

[ He's handsome as well--in a severe, angular kind of way, but she likes it. He's been very reserved in their interactions so far, and yet she finds herself hoping that she's reading him right, that he's not going this far out of his way just to be polite to her, or to save face. Maybe things will become clearer over the course of this little date.

The air smells like a delicious mix of baked goods and cream and rich coffee, set to a soundtrack of soft music and chatter. It's like a little piece of home away from home. Dorothea gestures to the display cases full of cakes and pastries of all sorts, one of the walls lined with racks of fresh bread. ]

The fruit tart here is my favorite. What about you? You mentioned liking pastries, right?

[choukin]

[ Part of it is certainly that he's a punctual man by nature. Nanami values his time, values the concept of time more than she will likely ever be able to understand. But this isn't work. This is his time, and he decided that he wanted to spend it on her. If that means sitting in a cozy little cafe waiting for her for more than he necessarily needs to, well, he can live with that.

The coffee, at least, is quite nice.

He waits for her to be comfortably seated before returning to his own chair. She might notice the coffee cup sitting in front of him, half-drank. Truth be told, it helps that this is already his kind of place. He hasn't been here, yet, but he is a bit of a foodie, as some might put it. So she's far from putting him out. Wouldn't be, even if he wasn't so happy to see her just by itself. ]

I am a bit fond of baked goods. More so than most in Japan, I think. [ He wonders, idly, how she's settling into the culture. He knows, from having studied up on her past perhaps a little more than he should, that she's been here for some time - as proven by the quality of her Japanese, no less. But a culture can be hard to adjust to, more than a language. ] I enjoy a nice start. Strawberry, raspberry. Or a croissant.

[ His head tilts a little, studying her. Perfectly focused on her. ] Is it a challenge? Being here, so far from home, I mean.

[backstreetbard]

Ooh, yes, the almond croissants are my favorite kind. Sweet but not too sweet, you know?

[ At his question, she meets his eyes and taps her chin as she considers how best to answer him. It isn't entirely straightforward. ]

It's been... an adjustment. I could barely speak the language when I first arrived, and the people here either love foreigners or they hate them. Sometimes people ask to take photos with me, not because I'm an opera prima donna, but because I'm a tall gaijin with naturally green eyes. I've seen convenience stores and restaurants with signs posted saying they won't serve anyone who can't speak Japanese, but then they still won't even if you can just because you aren't a native.

The hardest part has been learning to understand what people mean when they speak. Not the language, but the nuances and the etiquette. I'm always second guessing myself, wondering if I said something too directly to someone, or didn't respond in an appropriate way to something. Then I think, well, I already stand out, so I might as well just be myself.

I do miss my friends, of course, and my mother--[ By which she means her adoptive mother, Manuela. ]--but we still talk all the time. I don't necessarily miss Paris itself. You might be aware by now, but I was homeless for a few years as a child, so I don't really see a lot of the romance and beauty that other people do.

[ She shrugs and smiles, folding her hands in her lap. ]

Did you google me? Not that it isn't obvious I'm not from here, but people tend to google me after our first meeting.

[choukin]

[ Ah, they have so much in common, at least in food. He's never been the type for a cloying sweetness. Something mild, cut through, suits him much better.

For the moment he settles back, listening to her patiently, carefully, taking her in. Her Japanese really is impressive, for one thing, lightly accented but charmingly so. And he can understand. He was born here, raised here, but tall and blonde as he is, his Danish heritage shows through, enough to get him curious looks at times. It must be worse, to be her.

It would be hard to say his expression changes much, even when she mentions her homeless past. He is usually rather impassive, quiet, restrained by his nature. But there is a slight shift. A disapproving tension to the lines around his mouth. ]

I may have looked into you a little bit. Out of curiosity. [ He feels suddenly uncomfortable, like he trespassed. Like it wasn't his room to look. ] It isn't often one has a date with a celebrity. I apologize if I overstepped. I just find you... fascinating.

[ Among other things. ]