I expect you'll come out for Christmas and dinners. Maybe classes.
[Far as his books... A vague raise of his hand.]
They're like candy. Netflix's not the only thing you can binge. Maybe not the most illuminating pieces as compared to our friends on the shelves here. But it's nice. Having a world where you know all the rules, the rug can't be pulled out from under you and you can pick up any time.
[Listen, this is the woman who reads romance novels in secret, so she knows precisely what he means. But far be it for her to admit that to anyone, ever, much less Tony Carter.]
[He does think about giving her the usual spiel. About it being a breeze, just what comes naturally and how grateful he is for the international response to his books, et cetera, please contain feelings of nausea to the trash can in the corner. ...But they are having a nice time. A nicer time than he has with most people even.
So he crosses his arms and gives her a real answer.]
Depends on what I'm writing. Sometimes it's difficult. Hurts. I try to draw on my own experiences as much as possible. But other times— it's the best feeling in the world. Wouldn't give it up for anything.
[And that is the truth. He may be a sellout, but writing is all he's ever wanted to do and he stuck it out through some hellish situations to make it this far. It's his first wife and his only wife. But anyway...]
Too serious? Who're you starting with. He's got some texts in here I didn't even know exist. Pretty mindblowing.
[Some men are pretty bad about looking themselves in the mirror. Metaphorically speaking. Time for a new subject.]
[She glances up, meeting his eyes for that answer, quietly pleased by the honesty of it. She doesn't expect that all the time, but it's pleasant to hear something truthful instead of some line.]
Galileo. I won't make you stand by while I read through them all, because I have no doubt that'd be very dull for you, but . . . I wanted to at least get to see him, if nothing else.
[A beat. She glances down at the texts, then meets his gaze again, a little smile on her face.]
It's timely, I suppose. One of the first reasons Galileo wanted to test the theory of gravity was because he refused to accept the explanation that things returned to the earth because they wanted to, or because it was in there inherent nature to fall. He wanted an explanation, rather than just accepting a handwaved explanation or what others had declared authoritatively true, but which he questioned.
. . . I still don't know what's going on here. Not with the app, nor all the changes it seems to inspire. But it's soothing, I suppose, to look at the writings of a man who was in the same position.
[He wouldn't agree with her on the dullness. He has some fond memories of sitting around just reading with Jack's late wife —his best friend— before they grew too old and life became too complicated. That's the kind of story even Jack couldn't drag out of him though so he'll let the comment sit unchallenged.
Instead he tilts his head, listening. Rosalind really is brilliant and not just in a crunching numbers kind of way. Sofia (said bestie) had had a thing she liked to say about people. That they had a beautiful soul. He can definitely see it in Rosalind.
In today's questionable Tony nos: learned all his better social niceties from a dead woman. Welp. Least he doesn't share??]
You'll figure it out. Two hundred isn't a number to sneeze at far as communities go; you're not working alone. And the scientifically dim like myself can pick up the takeout tab when it's been a long...week. Sounds like a win-win to me.
That's because you're a sane woman. Other people are a jackasses. Especially when they work in your field.
[Words of wisdom from a man who's done one too many "but Tony think of the press if you just did a collaboration with Lisa Frank/Stephen King lite/my grandma" projects. "I work alone" was an acceptable motto for Batguy; he's feeling it's an acceptable motto for the rest of them.]
Also I don't know how anyone follows that app. Half the posts are like a sad...awkward version of Craig's List. I feel embarrassed just having it up on my phone.
[Okay maybe don't listen to Tony he is kind of a snob.]
True. I am ridiculously charismatic. But I don't like to touch start-ups with my hands. I'm kind of an advocate against giving my time away for free. Just sort of lowers my prestige, like a second printing Magic card.
[...Let it never be doubted he's a nerd. Also an ass. But first a nerd.]
So what about you? How do you feel about our courageous band of...18 to 24 year olds. Won't lie I'm half expecting someone to text me I'm their long lost grandpa.
Beyond the fact that for once, I'm not the youngest person anymore?
[Seriously, why are all her friends a good ten years older than her? . . . Stupid question, she knows why, it's because she's always drifted towards older friends, because they had a better chance of keeping up.]
Honestly. Forget insults; I'm more worried someone from the university board is going to look over my shoulder and think I'm trying to befriend the students.
No worries about that. Unless you've been personally invited by Retrospec... —You can't see the app. Or so it seems. My lawyer and I had a lengthy discussion about how I need to not be caught with whatever drugs he thinks I'm taking.
Still haven't figured out which one of us is the crazy one, but right now I'm generously attributing it to a 50/50 split of I'm an alcoholic and he likes to view the world through a box.
[He's a people person, really. Buuut crossing his arms.]
Could be worse. Least I've got you going crazy with me. ...And about five of my...young wards... Have I ever mentioned how I hate being a role model? It's just not me. And by that I mean I can't even keep a pet rock alive —long story— this kind of has disaster written all over it.
[She laughs again, and this time rises, very carefully putting the text back and peeling off her gloves.]
Think of it this way: you'll get to keep a far closer eye on them. All you have to do is make sure you don't post anything while you're drunk or high, and you'll be perfectly fine.
You realize that's like asking a giraffe not to drink, right.
[A world where Tony Carter is 100% sober... Hasn't been seen in 14 years and it's still out to "pick up scratchers at the corner store". Christ. He doesn't even want to think about all the...things he'd think about if he stopped drinking. He's made a mastery of avoiding taking an long and/or hard looks at his life.
That said he does offer his arm to her like the...not exactly a gentleman he is.]
Though that does bring up the stirring question: do I get any of your stalker photos? Just asking. For curiosity's sake. Cat made me do it.
[She slips her arm through his, though. She tugs out her cell phone, skims through it, and offers it to him.]
But you can look at them, if you'd like, as a reward for what a lovely surprise this was.
[There's two pictures, in fact. The first isn't so interesting; it's her in her lab, her head bent as she peers at something. The photo is blurry; the only reason you can tell it's her is because of the flash of red hair.
The second, however, will be of far more interest to Tony. It's Rosalind at her BMW at the end of the night, her books in her arms and her keys clenched between her teeth. It's also a lovely shot of her legs, which is why Tony is only getting a look, not the photo proper.]
[Praise tech nerds with far too much time on their hands. He studies the photo as he leads her out. Looks from it to her...and not even subtly leans back to check out said legs.]
Have I ever mentioned you're too good to me? I feel like that's a thing that doesn't come up enough. Also. Next time. These heels: wanna see 'em.
And you see this is why we would be the best People scandal. You like to troll me. And I...come running like Pavlov's dog. Perfect celebrity trainwreck.
[He's just saying. Could be fun. He will guide her back down the stairs and out to their waiting limo though.]
Your place?
[He is assuming; he has yet to have an acceptance of a nightcap at Chez Carter.]
You ever want to get a midlife crisis out you know where to find me.
[Because. Obviously that is not what today was about, feelings. This was just a nice date between friends. But he will hand her into the limo, following after and direct the driver to her place. See her to the door because why not and so forth.]
I'll text you about access for that room. [And— he taps his hand against his thigh.] You looked nice tonight. Keep your head up, Rosalind.
[With a wave he'll head back to the limo to be on his way unless she has some parting volleys she wants to get off. Not so bad an end to the evening. Gotta be some kind of points in that?]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[Far as his books... A vague raise of his hand.]
They're like candy. Netflix's not the only thing you can binge. Maybe not the most illuminating pieces as compared to our friends on the shelves here. But it's nice. Having a world where you know all the rules, the rug can't be pulled out from under you and you can pick up any time.
no subject
Is it as soothing to write them?
no subject
So he crosses his arms and gives her a real answer.]
Depends on what I'm writing. Sometimes it's difficult. Hurts. I try to draw on my own experiences as much as possible. But other times— it's the best feeling in the world. Wouldn't give it up for anything.
[And that is the truth. He may be a sellout, but writing is all he's ever wanted to do and he stuck it out through some hellish situations to make it this far. It's his first wife and his only wife. But anyway...]
Too serious? Who're you starting with. He's got some texts in here I didn't even know exist. Pretty mindblowing.
[Some men are pretty bad about looking themselves in the mirror. Metaphorically speaking. Time for a new subject.]
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Galileo. I won't make you stand by while I read through them all, because I have no doubt that'd be very dull for you, but . . . I wanted to at least get to see him, if nothing else.
[A beat. She glances down at the texts, then meets his gaze again, a little smile on her face.]
It's timely, I suppose. One of the first reasons Galileo wanted to test the theory of gravity was because he refused to accept the explanation that things returned to the earth because they wanted to, or because it was in there inherent nature to fall. He wanted an explanation, rather than just accepting a handwaved explanation or what others had declared authoritatively true, but which he questioned.
. . . I still don't know what's going on here. Not with the app, nor all the changes it seems to inspire. But it's soothing, I suppose, to look at the writings of a man who was in the same position.
no subject
Instead he tilts his head, listening. Rosalind really is brilliant and not just in a crunching numbers kind of way. Sofia (said bestie) had had a thing she liked to say about people. That they had a beautiful soul. He can definitely see it in Rosalind.
In today's questionable Tony nos: learned all his better social niceties from a dead woman. Welp. Least he doesn't share??]
You'll figure it out. Two hundred isn't a number to sneeze at far as communities go; you're not working alone. And the scientifically dim like myself can pick up the takeout tab when it's been a long...week. Sounds like a win-win to me.
"May you live in interesting times."
no subject
[She pauses for a moment, then offers another smile.]
You know, you're the third person this month to say that. That I ought to post to the community and see what other people have done. I still haven't.
[She wrinkles her nose.]
It's a sensible idea. But I hate collaboration.
no subject
[Words of wisdom from a man who's done one too many "but Tony think of the press if you just did a collaboration with Lisa Frank/Stephen King lite/my grandma" projects. "I work alone" was an acceptable motto for Batguy; he's feeling it's an acceptable motto for the rest of them.]
Also I don't know how anyone follows that app. Half the posts are like a sad...awkward version of Craig's List. I feel embarrassed just having it up on my phone.
[Okay maybe don't listen to Tony he is kind of a snob.]
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And yet there it is. I suppose you'll simply have to post there and show them all how it's done, hm?
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[...Let it never be doubted he's a nerd. Also an ass. But first a nerd.]
So what about you? How do you feel about our courageous band of...18 to 24 year olds. Won't lie I'm half expecting someone to text me I'm their long lost grandpa.
no subject
[Seriously, why are all her friends a good ten years older than her? . . . Stupid question, she knows why, it's because she's always drifted towards older friends, because they had a better chance of keeping up.]
Honestly. Forget insults; I'm more worried someone from the university board is going to look over my shoulder and think I'm trying to befriend the students.
no subject
Still haven't figured out which one of us is the crazy one, but right now I'm generously attributing it to a 50/50 split of I'm an alcoholic and he likes to view the world through a box.
[He's a people person, really. Buuut crossing his arms.]
Could be worse. Least I've got you going crazy with me. ...And about five of my...young wards... Have I ever mentioned how I hate being a role model? It's just not me. And by that I mean I can't even keep a pet rock alive —long story— this kind of has disaster written all over it.
no subject
Think of it this way: you'll get to keep a far closer eye on them. All you have to do is make sure you don't post anything while you're drunk or high, and you'll be perfectly fine.
no subject
[A world where Tony Carter is 100% sober... Hasn't been seen in 14 years and it's still out to "pick up scratchers at the corner store". Christ. He doesn't even want to think about all the...things he'd think about if he stopped drinking. He's made a mastery of avoiding taking an long and/or hard looks at his life.
That said he does offer his arm to her like the...not exactly a gentleman he is.]
Though that does bring up the stirring question: do I get any of your stalker photos? Just asking. For curiosity's sake. Cat made me do it.
no subject
[She slips her arm through his, though. She tugs out her cell phone, skims through it, and offers it to him.]
But you can look at them, if you'd like, as a reward for what a lovely surprise this was.
[There's two pictures, in fact. The first isn't so interesting; it's her in her lab, her head bent as she peers at something. The photo is blurry; the only reason you can tell it's her is because of the flash of red hair.
The second, however, will be of far more interest to Tony. It's Rosalind at her BMW at the end of the night, her books in her arms and her keys clenched between her teeth. It's also a lovely shot of her legs, which is why Tony is only getting a look, not the photo proper.]
no subject
Have I ever mentioned you're too good to me? I feel like that's a thing that doesn't come up enough. Also. Next time. These heels: wanna see 'em.
no subject
[But likely not for a while, now that she's said it, because Rosalind can be stubborn about not doing something simply because someone wants her to.]
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[He's just saying. Could be fun. He will guide her back down the stairs and out to their waiting limo though.]
Your place?
[He is assuming; he has yet to have an acceptance of a nightcap at Chez Carter.]
no subject
[Someday, perhaps, she'll accept another drink at his house, but even then, all it will mean is a drink, nothing more.]
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[Because. Obviously that is not what today was about, feelings. This was just a nice date between friends. But he will hand her into the limo, following after and direct the driver to her place. See her to the door because why not and so forth.]
I'll text you about access for that room. [And— he taps his hand against his thigh.] You looked nice tonight. Keep your head up, Rosalind.
[With a wave he'll head back to the limo to be on his way unless she has some parting volleys she wants to get off. Not so bad an end to the evening. Gotta be some kind of points in that?]