Players:
Summary: Mason and Giea go on their first date.
Date: January 30, 2011
Log Title: A Date To Remember
Rating: PG (For smooching)
NYC - Tanzore Restaurant and Lounge
A favorite of NYC's upper class, Tanzore is famous for its Indian Modern dishes, a 'contemporary movement of Indian cuisine toward more modern taste and culinary sensibilities', as it says on their menu. The decor is dramatic and color, leaning toward the warm color spectrum. There are private rooms available, as well as seating for business meetings, romantic dining or any special occasion. Outside dining is also available for those who prefer to people watch over Central Park as they dine.
Mason was rather excited to get Giea's phone call, she's a different caliber of person, and the fact that she can't see his good looks, and doesn't know who he is, seems to spark his interest even more. So they picked out a nice restaurant, and now that he's done with his classes for the day, he arranged to meet Giea out front of the Tanzore. He's wearing a silk shirt, pair of khakis, his sunglasses, and a leather coat over top of it all to keep him warm. No instruments are with him at the moment, it's just him. His hands stay in his pants pocket, keeping them warm against the cool early evening air.
Giea is dropped off in front of the restaurant by her caretaker, who gives a few encouraging words and tells her a few safety tips and that she will be waiting nearby should anything happen. There are people out there willing to take advantage of a disabled girl. She nods and steps out of the vehicle, holding her cane out as usual, wearing a semi-formal looking dress and a black coat over top. She takes a few steps towards the restaurant, tapping the cane all the while, and feels around the outside. She doesn't want to call out Mason's name: that would just be pathetic.
Mason is quick to greet Giea as she steps out of the car, and takes off his sunglasses long enough for the caretaker to see his face. He gives a smile and a wave, hoping that she is as ignorant about Mason's status as Giea is, but if not, well, ambiguity was nice while it lasted. "Hi Giea," he exhudes cheerfully, reaching out to take her by the hand. "How've you been?" he asks. Due to being in his pockets, his hands are warm, not chilly from the January chill.
The caretaker just smiles and waves at Mason before driving off a little way to park and spend some time in a nearby coffee shop (there's always a nearby coffee shop). Giea takes Mason's hand and says, smiling, "Oh, nice and warm. I've been okay. I got a little bit of a spook the other day, though! Gosh, I should tell you about it. But let's go inside first. I don't like the cold, it numbs me a bit."
Mason smiles, even if Giea can't see it. "Sure," he says. He opens the door, and guides her inside. "Steele. Party of two." The hostess nods, and leads them to the table. Apparently Mason called ahead so that they wouldn't have to wait. As they reach the table, the pop star pulls the chair out for Giea, and helps her hand find the back to give her a reference point to sit down. "Here you go," the boy offers. "So what gave you a spook?" he asks.
"Steele? Mason Steele?" repeats Giea, after taking a seat, "People must comment on that a lot." The likelihood that -the- Mason Steele asked her out seems infinitesimal. "I mean, I guess I am too. I just imagine some people make mean jokes. I've heard people make mean jokes about him before, but I'm sure he doesn't deserve it." She shakes her head and smiles, "Enough about your name twin, though. You probably hear that all the time!" She smiles again, apologetically, and then explains, "What gave me a spook was this supervillainess tried to kidnap me! I mean, she didn't, but… there's not much I can do to stop someone."
Mason winces a little. Okay, so Giea doesn't have an idea who he is, but then again, but then again, she does, too. She just doesn't realize it. His response, he lets her keep talking until she moves on to another topic. He takes a seat across from her, listening to her story. "Tried to kidnap you?" Mason asks incredulously. "Why would she want to kidnap you? You from some super rich family to pay a ransom or something?" he jokes. He doesn't know that she actually does come from a wealthy family.
"Well, um, my family is actually pretty well off…" says Giea, a bit softly, before she shrugs and says, "But it was kind of a different kind of ransom thing. She was trying to get this other girl named… Oh, I'm bad with Hindi names. Rashmi? Anyways, not important. To do something. And she, 'Envy', was threatening me to get her way." She puts her hands over her chest and says, "What a scare! But it all worked out fine in the end…"
"I have a friend named Rashmi," he says, "That's kinda weird, wouldn't think there's many people with that name around New York." Nor too many people with the name Mason Steele, funny how those repeat. "I heard about that Envy lady, the supervillain? She's creepy. I wouldn't want to meet her. How did you get away?" He picks up a menu, and starts looking through the selection. "Oh, I guess I better tell you what's on the menu, huh?" he adds. Most restaurants don't have braille menus.
"Huh, that's pretty weird!" says Giea about the naming similarity. She shrugs and then leans in closer, to speak more silently (her own ability to monitor her voice is still abysmal), "I think the people had powers. The girl, and her friends. And they fought Envy off. Probably saved my life!" She pauses for a moment, thoughtfully and says, "I hope that you're a mutant rights supporter. I mean, I am pro mutant rights myself, and I'm proud to say it."
Mason has to keep from laughing at Giea's comment. If she only knew. In response, he exhales strongly with a broad smile, "Yes, I think mutants and non-mutants should get along just fine. We're all humans. You said that this Rashmi girl had powers? Maybe she's the same person! She has to be! The Rashmi I know is a mutant. How many Rashmi's with superpowers can there be in one city?" he asks. "I'm glad you aren't a mutant hater, because it'd be terrible for someone so pretty to be ugly on the inside, and I couldn't picture you ugly on the inside or outside from what I've seen so far." The flirt is most intentional.
"Well, I don't know for sure, but there was a lot going on. It could have been the same person!" says Giea, smiling, though she blushes slightly at the bit of flirting. She makes no effort to hide that she's blushing at all, since she's not sure how to proceed with that anyways. "I think a lot of people who hate mutants are just ignorant, and not necessarily ugly on the inside. The problem is, they don't want to be informed and understand that they have no idea what it's like to be a mutant. Not that I do either, but while I can't understand, I can at least empathize…"
"That's good," Mason says, "I think it's really frightening for mutants. People are afraid that they are reading their thoughts, or can vaporize them with eye beams, or do any of a number of things. But you know, people have technology that can do most of the things mutants can do, and nobody's afraid of that." He moves on. "Here, let me read you the menu, and stop me when something sounds good," he offers, and starts to list the different meals.
"No, that takes the mystery out of it!" interupts Giea, grinning, "I kind of like to identify what I'm eating… Just pick something and whisper it. I can't hear whispers at all." She tilts her head slightly, which knocks her glasses slightly out of alignment, and says, "Mutant rights is probably a pretty heavy topic to pick for this kind've meeting, though. I'm glad our views match up."
Mason stops, and smiles. "Okay," he says. When the waiter comes over, he whispers the order. "Okay, I hope you like it," he offers, "I have to admit, I don't know much about Indian food. I don't even really know what I ordered for myself." He grabs the water in front of him. "I guess it is a pretty heavy topic. But I guess that sort of thing has to come up sooner or later," he adds. "Might as well get it out now, right?" He places the glass back down on the table. "You said you listen to music before, what kinds of music do you like?" It's a topic easy for him to talk about, so to shift away from controversial topics, it's a natural choice for him.
"Oh, mostly I listen to really simple, single-instrumental pieces. My hearing aids are kind of finnicky, and more complex music gets muddled… but if I didn't use them, then I'd damage my hearing to hear it properly which is a pretty big no-no!" explains Giea, taking a drink of water, "I mean, being completely deaf-blind would be hard to adjust to. Nobody knows how to communicate with you. I'm sure it'd work out for the best if it did happen, but I don't want to test it. I'm fine with where I am now." She smiles at that and says, "What kind of music do you like?"
"Me?" Mason ponders how to answer. "I like a lot of stuff. I play a lot of classical stuff, and most people know me for pop music, but I will listen to anything if it's good. I just like the movement of the music. I like to feel what people feel when they write it." He pauses, realizing he may have given himself away. "I'm sorry, it must seem weird to you." He taps his fingers on the table, mentally kicking himself for possibly rubbing his sense of hearing in her face, so to speak.
Laughing softly, Giea says, "No, it doesn't seem weird at all. People seem to love music, and I value that, I guess you could say. I value that those people have a means through which to be moved in that way, through that expression and beauty." She takes another drink of her water and notes, "You do seem to take after your name twin, though!"
"I could show you," Mason suggests as the food comes. "What if I wasn't a twin. What if I was the Mason Steele," he says with a laugh and fake pomp. "Would that freak you out?" The smell of the two plates fills the air, and Mason picks up his fork. "Do you need any help?" he offers hesitantly. He doesn't want to assume that she's helpless, but doesn't want to leave her in need, either.
"If you were the Mason Steele? I don't know. I'd be surprised. I mean, I think I'd be a bit confused at why the Mason Steele would be interested in me. I can't really appreciate the full range of his," a raised eyebrow and a small jocular smile, "your? Expression." Giea feels for a fork herself, and then makes a kind of bib out of the napkin, "I think I'll be alright, though if anything else comes you have to let me know where it is or else I am almost sure to put my elbow in it!"
"I dunno if there's more coming, but I'll let you know." He doesn't really even know what the meal is that he ordered, it just looked interesting on the description. It was Fish curry Masala, but he's not even sure what Masala is. "With all of his fame, maybe he'd just like to meet someone who can get to know him as a person, and not just a record label. It probably gets to be a pain getting mobbed by fans all the time, cameras in your face. No privacy about anything." He starts to eat his own, the same dish that he ordered for her. That way if it is awful, he has to suffer through it too.
Giea smells the dish and smiles slightly at the odour. She doesn't seem to mind it very much, carefully placing her fork and knife in her hands. "Maybe. I mean, I can understand how having so little privacy would be pretty tough. People always blogging about him, and talking about him. I guess like we are now. I don't think I would want to be famous. Fortunately, I've got nothing to be famous about!" She takes a bite of her meal, chewing slowly.
"So what do you like to do when you aren't studying?" Mason asks, "I mean, if music is hard to listen to. I'm gonna take a stab in the dark and say you don't watch a lot of TV." He is a bit fast at eating his food, as if ready to do something else rather than just sit around.
"Well, I do some sculpting. I mean, sighted people usually say, 'That's not very good!' and then change their tune when they find out I did it. Like there's a double standard. But I like having that freedom to express myself in a tactile way," says Giea, head turned slightly off to the side as she speaks, "And I volunteer doing some stories for visually and auditorially impaired kids. And… I'm going to admit to my worst, and super lame, vice. I do so much blogging and social networking. It's a huge waste of time, but I love it. It makes me feel like I'm part of an online community."
"Oh yeah?" Mason says with a grin. "Blog about what? Are you a closet internet celebrity?" he teases. "I bet your scupltures would be great if people closed their eyes to experience them instead of trying to look at them. They're just using the wrong sense to understand your art." He remembers now having heard her tell him that part before. Oops, way to remember the details, Mason.
"I have my niche of fame. I mean, I blog about a lot of stuff. But I usually keep different themes separate. Blind and deaf culture, religion and spirituality, human rights and political stuff… And then I keep up with other people's stuff on a whole range of topics," explains Giea. She laughs through her teeth and says, "You must think I'm such a nerd, hearing this, though. Social networking's just for fun, though."
"So," Mason pauses. "I don't mean to be weird about it, but how do you blog if you're blind?" he asks. "I mean, how do you find the websites and read what people have written? He takes the opportunity to shovel a little more into his mouth as he nears the end of the plate.
"Well," says Giea, after a moment's thought, "I've learned the layout of my keyboard, so long as I can find 'f' and 'j'. Then I have a screen reader which can either read off what's on the screen into audio, or put it into a braille display." She moves her finger across the table in a slow line to demonstrate how that might work. Or just because she's recalling the action. "So… I don't use emoticons at all!"
"You are really somethin' else," Mason observes. "You can't see, and can barely hear, but you get along just fine, and you don't let it stop you." He slides his hands out under where her finger is dragging so that it'll meet his hand. "How would you like to hear music like you read braille?" The question doesn't give an explanation of how exactly she would be able to do that. "Or, maybe the way you told me that story at Starbucks."
Giea stops her finger tracing when it reaches Mason's hand, to put her hand over his in order to feel it once again. "So you want me to feel music?" she asks, smiling slightly at that, "Well, I think I'm intrigued!" She lifts her drink and takes a sip from it.
"Yes," Mason agrees. He lets his wrap around to hold hers gently, "Feel the music." The statement makes him laugh suddenly. "I hear people say that all the time, but I think this will be a little more literal. Whyen you're done eating." He is all but finished with his own food, and seems more interested in this activity than continuing his meal.
As she thinks, Giea takes a piece on her fork with her free hand and says, "After this bite, I think I'll have my fish masala packaged up so that you can show me what it is you mean. I admit, you've got me all curious." She lifts the bit up to her mouth, and again chews it slowly.
Mason waits patiently for her to finish, then calls for the waiter, pays the bill, and helps her get her fish into the box. He has a certain energy about his movements. He reaches to take her hand, "It's a little bit of a long walk from here. Want to get a cab or take the subway?" he asks. Knowing that the experience may be very different for her in either situation than for him.
"Well, my caretaker is around here," says Giea sheepishly, taking Mason's hand in return. As much as she wants to refrain from suggesting they use Arianna's vehicle, since that's something of a mood killer, there are certain extra safety measures that she has to keep in mind. "She could give us a ride?"
Though Mason doesn't even realize it, his hand cools slightly at the mention of a 'third wheel', but he tries to remain upbeat. Something about it makes him a nervous, but only slightly. "Sure," he answers, voice not betraying his nervousness. He understands the need for her to be cautious. "That would be fine."
Feeling the change in his hands Giea tilts her head slightly. "Just to bring us there," she assures, squeezing his hand gently, "She won't be coming with… like a cab driver that I happen to know. It's like how some deaf people have an interpretor…"
A smile comes across Mason's face, and he returns the squeeze. He doesn't realize that his hand has given him away, but it's a reassuring gesture to him all the same. "Shall we, then?"
Giea rises from her seat, taking hold of her cane using her off hand. She never leaves anywhere without it, even at times when she doesn't /really/ need it to navigate. "Yes, let's." She leans the cane against herself, and pulls a cellphone from her bag, sending a quick text, before grabbing the cane once again and letting Mason lead the way.
Mason's directions lead directly to none other than Carnegie Hall, though he doesn't mention the location by name. As a student at Julliard, it's a common location for young Mr. Steele. He has a class in this building. Not only that, he has a performance in the Judy and Arthur Zankel Hall. Not the largets auditorium, that's only for world class musicians, and Mason hasn't earned that priviledge quite yet. The air is clean, the floor is soft. There's no concert happening today, so the empty silence seems to pervade. Every sound seems somehow muted as Mason leads their way down the steps. Soft chairs along the center. "Be careful," he tells Giea, "The steps are spaced weird here." They are just slightly longer than an average step, making it easy to trip if you aren't paying attention.
With her off hand, Giea uses her cane to estimate distances and heights, letting herself be led by Mason but still heeding his advice to be careful. So while her ascent up the stairs is relatively slow, she does make her way up. "Those really are weird stairs," she confirms. She smiles towards Mason (or at least his general direction) and asks, "So you've got me interested. Where are we now?"
"Almost there," Mason says, leading a few more steps. There are a few more stairs, this time up onto a platform, a much more standard sized step. The floor is wood, but yet has a gentle give beneath the step. "Right now, you're standing on a stage in Carnegie Hall," he tells her. Every sound is suddenly more rich upon stepping onto the stage. The room is built for meautiful sound to be hard from the stage, while muting background noise from the house.
A look of recognition at the name passes over Giea's face, and she seems a bit surprised. She stops and swivels her head slightly at the new location. Even through her hearing aids, she does detect a difference in the sound. "We really are, aren't we?" she says, eyebrows still raised slightly.
Mason grins widely. "Yes. I take classes here at Julliard, so I can come in here and practice," Mason explains. He leads her to the center of the stage, then lets go of her hand briefly to move the piano bench, turning it sideways in front of the piano. "Come, sit down at the piano," he encourages. He moves his hand back to take the girl's again, and places it on the ivory keys. They have a perfect texture. They aren't worn or chipped like so many piano keys. Instead they are smooth and slick. So is the wood of the piano body, so finely sanded that it feels like glass.
Giea's hand, once it touches the keys, gently seems to explore this texture, over the various keys. The girl seems entranced by this feeling, reaching up to touch and explore the wood as well. "This is a beautiful piano," she says softly, sitting down now next to Mason. "It feels like a lot of care was put into it…" She brushes some hair aside with her free hand and reaches it forward to continue feeling it, seemingly fascinated, before she softly presses down one of the keys.
Mason releases Giea's hand so that she can use both to feel the piano, but as she sits, she may find that the bench is facing perpendicular to the piano, rather than parallel, Mason isn't sitting down yet. "It should be, it's a piano that lives in Carnegie Hall," he laughs. "If it's all right, I'm going to sit down behind you, do you mind me doing that?" He waits to join her until she concedes, after all, it'll mean that there would be a lot of body surface in contact if he's reaching for the keys from behind her. "I promise not to do anything funny."
Giea doesn't seem to notice the way the bench is facing until Mason speaks, and she turns her head in his direction to listen to what he has to say. "I don't mind at all," she says softly, "Feel free to sit down. I'm not like most people are about touch, anyways." She smiles at that before reorienting herself towards the piano and still resting her fingers on the keys.
Mason slides onto the bench behind Giea, his chest leaning against her back as he moves in closer, and his breath can be felt over her left shoulder. His hands slide up underneath the girl's own, taking position over the center of the eighty-eights. "Keep your fingers on top of mine, all right?" he asks. The teen star's left thumb presses down on middle C. A single crisp note pierces the hall, the vibration of the key felt through his hand to her own. The vibration seems to be a little more easily felt than it would be for most people. "This is the center of the piano," he tells her. "Middle C. Can you feel it?"
Giea nods slightly at the last question and responds, "Yes. I do." She keeps her hands on top of Mason's, fingers moving slightly when she feels the vibration moving through his hand. She seems to be relaxed, but still concentrating on the feeling and, to a lesser extend, the sound that's made.
Mason's hands form a chord, ringing more richly through the hall.. Hands begin to walk along the keys, playing an inspecific melody at first so that Giea can become used to his hands not staying in the same place as he plays. His heartbeat can be felt starting to accelerate with the beginning of the melody, clearly something that he truly enjoys. Each key has it's own frequency as much as it has sound, the keys resonating through Mason's hands.
It's easy to get caught up in the feeling of such a new experience, and Giea's gentle touch remains attached to the fingers that she rests on, seldom losing their place and just going with the movements with her own dextrous motions. The heartbeat and the keys combine to form a sensation that she can appreciate.
Mason pauses, "This is one of my favorite pieces," he tells Giea. His right foot tries to inch up to the pedals, underneath Giea's feet. "George Gershwin is my touchstone, I guess you'd say." The piano lets out the first few notes of the rather well known melody as he begins with just a few fingers. Rhapsody in Blue. Digit by digit, the music grows rapidly from one finger at a time, to three, to two hands. He doesn't just play the notes, though. His hands perform what might be considered a dance, each stroke of the keys is expressive.
Full of fast and slow pieces, Mason's breathing and his heart seem to move in time. Sometimes the melody is slow while the rhythm of notes is fast, sometimes the rhythm is slow but maintains a rapid melody. His heart seems almost synchronized with the rhythm, and his breathing with the melody. His foot bounces from one pedal to the next as it's called, part of the private orchestra he seems to be performing as. Mason is clean, but the presence of altering colognes seems to be minimal, maybe a little anti-persperant. Over all, he is getting warmer, though. He's spending a lot of energy, and the piece is long, full of intricate moves, constantly changing and unique. It climaxes several times, only to be countered by another piece.
When the final climax comes, however, it is clear, and the last chord struck is staccato, his hands arcing out and landing like an unplayed beat on Giea's lower thigh near the knee. It isn't an invasive touch, but seems to be a natural reflex, he probably normally lands his hands on his own legs when he plays.
Giea's hands follow Mason's through the song, more the sensations than sound engaing her attention. The movements, vibrations, breath and heartbeat combine to indeed allow Giea to feel the music, in a way many people would not appreciate. She seems enraptured by the song as it plays, as she blindly plays along with it, allowing the melodic touch to wash over her. And when the song finishes, her hands lower as well and once again rest on Mason's as she says a quiet, "Thank you, Mason."
Mason doesn't move for a moment, letting the moment complete in his mind. He keeps his hands where they are, but they gently turn up to take Giea's, slipping his fingers between hers. His eyes drop briefly to her lips, and back to her eyes. His face is already only inches from hers, no doubt sensed by his breath and body warmth. "Thank you, Giea," he returns.
Her own breath, having been affected by the music that was just playing, begins to slow again slightly, Giea's heartbeat still racing, though. She curls her fingers back around Mason's as well and she follows the feeling of his breath up to his lips, head and body turning to allow her to lean in for a kiss.
Mason's lips move in and meet Giea's. His left hand pulling hers up as he reaches to hold her cheek in his hand for the kiss, releasing her hand as he touches her face so that she can feel his movements all the way through the motion. His right arm moves around her waist snugly, likewise drawing the girl's hand with him.
It indeed seems as though Giea takes some comfort in being able to follow every motion in this way and while her heartbeat stays elevated, she relaxes for the kiss before pulling back only slightly, her glasses now resting dedicedly crooked across her face. She opens her mouth as if to speak, but doesn't say anything and just inhales through her mouth slowly.
Mason's left hand slides up to gently remove Giea's glasses. He folds them with the one hand across the back of his knuckles and strokes his fingers through the girl's hair. The blond boy drags his nose up the side of Giea's own nose until he gives a gentle kiss to each of her eyelids. "You're beautiful," he tells her. "I'd very much like to do this again soon."
As her glasses are pulled off, Giea seems surprised to the point of making a small gasping sound. For a moment, her eyes remain open, aimlessly staring, but as she feels the breath upon them, they close. She returns the compliment by responding, "You're breathtaking," a soft blush still in her cheeks. "To do this again… It would be my pleasure."
