Endeavor glares at her clock. Of all the scientific, chemical, mechanical and even medical knowledge floating through her brain like the very oxygen she breathes through her lungs, she cannot play a bid against time.

The dinner is slowly reaching done, but the time and place she asked of Mr. Grey is nearing convergence. She's at where she'll be having dinner with him, but the dinner is yet to be ready for serving, and quite frankly, she's still in her apron and some beat-up old clothing she uses when cooking or working on things that could potentially make her dirty.

The familiar ring of her oven chimes her salvation. Without a moment to spare.

She puts the rest of the cooked items in a warming chamber, so as not to have the meal lose it's temperature, while keeping the cold items in storage.

"Now... to get the air filters running, and to get dressed..."

She starts walking over to her quarters and starts changing clothes upon arrival.

Now what will I wear...

What the fuck am I doing? Low shadows are already filling Tokyo Harbor as I navigate between containers, nursing my Lucky along. This kid is young, I'm old enough to be her grandfather, and she's the most popular nova in merry ol' Nippon. Low shadows are already filling Tokyo Harbor as I navigate between containers, On top of that, she publicly posted when she wanted me to come over so half of the media is going to watch Japan's favorite daughter get her damn booty call! Sweet fucking god, am I suicidal? Greeeat, there are the camera crews, parked out to watch her ship. Heh, good thing I thought ahead, isn't it? I casually stroll down a lane between some containers, getting about as close as I can to Pier # 136 before the crews see me, and I lean up against a container and wait. Why am I doing this again? Ah, right; the toys. And the company... it'd be nice to talk to someone with half a fucking brain and likes the water... Christ, listen to me, I'm getting soft. It's just a dinner, old man, it's not like everything is preordained... even if she sounded pretty clear over the OpNet.

Ah, there's my patsy. There ol' Bob goes, talking a nice stroll along the harbor with a suit and fedora in the wrong direction. See, that's the nice thing about being an American: there's always an ugly countryman who's vacationing in some foreign country when you need a good distraction. Sure enough, the cameras and journalists follow him. I crush out my Lucky against the container before flicking it into the sea and make for the pier. You gotta love the press: they'll always follow the story. Almost as predictable as an American who wants to make a fast fifty.

The sun is just about to set but the various things left out on the pier, especially their shadows, and poor Bob give me ample opportunity to make it to the ship. Damn... this is a big ship. Come on, old man, she's waiting for you inside. Time to show these kids how real adults interact. I walk up the gangplank and quietly whistle when I get a good look of the deck. Daaaamn, this is a nice ship, much better than those death traps from the old days. Now, where's the hatch... ah, there it is. I walk over to what appears to be one of the main hatches and give it a once over. Hmm, good construction, might be locked, and it's got a camera. Convenient. I knock on the heavy hatch and say four words I never thought I'd say again, "Permission to come aboard?"

A camera pops out of a secured hull-plate, which seems to protect it at high-depths. It cranes to Sam, and looks more curious of the visitor than a machine should... as if an intelligence was behind it...

"Ah, it's you. You may come on in. No need to be formal. Nor to do anything special. I saw you on security camera #8 near the pier. I've taken the liberty to unlock the door. As soon as you're in, I'm locking up. Just to warn you so you don't think I'm trying to shanghai you or something." She says that last sentence with a bit of a joking demeanor. But it seems she's Delaying...

She has reason to... her cat just scratched up her dress for the evening...

"bloody hell..." she thinks to herself. "Wait... he doesn't look too formal... Perhaps just my turtleneck and a pair of slacks should do the trick."

The heavy door, which was designed for depth, not for looks, opens. Allowing Sam to walk through.

Ah fuck, that's right, she's one of those machine controllers. That's gotta get creepy for some people. I tip my hat at the camera and flash a smile, feelin' a little like C-3PO, "Old habits die hard. And an old fashion shanghai might be a little fun as long as you don't make me row this thing in a loincloth." She's takin' her sweet time... the kid must be stalling. I step into the ship once the heavy door finishes swinging open and I take off my hat as the door swings back shut with a low boom. Hmmm, I don't smell a roast burning so she's probably not stalling over the food. And this means she's a better cook than that bitch ex of mine. The kid is probably freaking out over something simple. I'd better find her soon and try to get her to relax, the poor kid doesn't need to have a heart attack. Now... how to find her...

I take a look down the corridor of the ship, now noticing that only the lights are on in the corridor until it reaches an intersection down the way and the light against the bulkheads makes it look like the right side of the intersection is lit up as well. Well that's rather nice of her and shows she's got some forethought. I make my way down the corridor and look at the bulkheads and various pipes routing power, water, and the like. Hmmmm, good solid construction... ah, and there are the air vents and returns. I turn right at the intersection and quietly follow the path she's laid out for me. Maybe being shanghaied would be good... nice vacation with a girl a third my age in her ship... nah, I'd probably ruin her air scrubbers with my smoking.

A brighter light appears ahead of me, hinting at a much larger room ahead. Hmmm, this must be where she wants me to be... Alright, let's see what the kid has in store for me. I turn the corner, slowly entering the room with my hat hanging at my side...

Sakurako starts heating for the dininghall from the opposite direction. She's sort of embarassed. She still don't have the covering panels up from repairing the internal damage Deathsquad left behind. The outer hull though was repaired, but unlike her, the insides are still being fixed...

She runs down a corridor, some patchy plating greets her. "I really should have let him in at airlock 7..."

She turns left, and takes a service tube. She uses them as both shortcuts and to occasionally have some privacy.

"This one should lead..." Just as she completes this thought, a spray of some sort of liquid sprays all over her turtleneck shirt. It's covered in a black sort of paint-like spray, and she tumbles out of a hatch, in front of Sam.

"Uh.... Hi. I needed to take a detour... hehe."

She looks at her shirt and doesn't look too concerned.

"Ah.... don't worry, this shirt is easily cleaned... some soap and water should do it. stain resistant and all that..."

This girl's life is like a sitcom, just another disaster after another, and something tells me it's part of her charm. I smile with a shrug and give her a friendly wave with my hat, "Hey, I understand. Ship life is full of little surprises, isn't it?" Yea, it's definitely apart of her charm. Hmm, she's definitely not a teenager despite her supposed antics, I'd say early twenties. And a striking one at that, albeit heavy on the cute side. No matter what, she's way easier on the eyes than the buck-toothed hicks I've been dealing with lately. I'd wager she's much more intelligent and interesting to boot.

I tip my head towards what seems like her intended destination in a "Shall we?" and wait for her to lead. After all, it's her ship, her night, hence her rules unless they conflict with mine. As she turns to start walking and I fall in next to her, I flash her a curious smile, "So... why white? Or, if I haven't lost too many brain cells, am I recognizing a naval sweater?"

"No.... Just a basic white turtleneck... My casual clothing is rather utilitarian."

She gets up, and walks over to a sink in a side room with an open wall towards the dining hall that also leads to the kitchen.

"I prefer light colors, and sometimes striking ones. Pink is usually my favorite, but lately I have been going towards more earthy tones."

She runs some water, while applying a gel like substance to a wash cloth, then, as advertized, the black material is wiped off with the said washcloth. Within a few moments, she's clean.

"The tube I went through is an access way. To the various parts of the ship. My maglev tubes are offline as I check their calibration. Seems that fight with DeathSquad left more internal damage than I thought. I suppose you saw the innards as you walked through the door into the ship. I need to look over several different conduits still, but I haven't had time. Between looking over a friend's residence while she's off on a retreat, and my current future occupation always needs my attention, this is probably the only few hours I got to enjoy myself past repairs."

She looks as the last of the black substance drains out.

"But, looks like I got a tube to look over later. Seems it's occasionally leaking line gel used in the primary computer connection lines. Nothing major, if perssure drops in a certain area, it reroutes or uses the secondary Eufiber lines I had installed during construction...."

She realizes she's rambling.

"Oh crap... that's right... dinner."

{oopsies, I should be blushing in some other city )

That's right, she's a grease monkey. I gotta keep this stuff on the tip of my mind. While she cleans up, I lean my shoulder against a bulkhead, idly letting her talk. She's nervous, or her brain is faster than her mouth, or both. Heh, I'm halfway tempted to let her keep going, maybe have her get it all out so she can relax, but that wouldn't be the polite thing to do. Yea yea yea , I know I normally don't give a shit about being polite but the kid really does need to relax. She's torqued up about something and I'm pretty sure it's not the old man just hanging out on her ship.

Once she's back in the now I give her my best disarming smile, "Don't worry about the repairs, this damn thing is huge and you're distracted." Fuck, I'd hate to be responsible for maintaining something so goddamn large. Shit, I could fit all of my worldly possessions in this thing and still have room. I tip myself back off the wall and hand her a dry towel, "Take your time, Sakurako. Distressed ain't a good match for pink."

Yea, that's right, I used her name. Got a fucking problem with that?

Sakurako smiles. Perhaps now she can let her guard down.

"Take a seat. Anywhere will suffice, Sam. Dinner has been cooked, and it should be a few minutes to set up. Besides, we want to relax. Do we not?"

Sakurako's joking manner is apparent. She's not good at subterfuge, although recently she's discovered sarcasm. But, she is not being anything but trying to be a warm host.

"And, I hope you're hungry."

I find the closest chair, pull it out, and plunk down into it. Hmm, comfy. You can never go wrong with a comfy chair. Good, the she's loosening up; stress can fuck up your body like no one's business. I tip back in the chair and a satisfied smile creeps over my lips as I chuckle a bit, "We're novas; we're always hungry, right?" Ain't that the fucking truth, it feels like I've always got a bottomless pit in my gut.

The artificial light keeps the room evenly illuminated, chasing away any shadow deeper than a light gray, and it has that pure white quality that's always lacking from those florescent bars. A few unlit candlesticks sit nearby, waiting to be lit once she has everything ready to go. I set my hat down on the table and nod to the chair closest to me with a smile, keeping my eyes on hers, "You can set me to work if you need some help, but damn, don't be afraid to sit down and take a load off." I grin at her in a playful way, "I don't bite... and I'm sure there's plenty you and I want to talk about and ask each other."

Sakurako grabs the first plate of the meal, and starts heading into the dining room. She carefully sets down each plate, and the proper utensils.

"This is just the first course of the meal. A mix of steak and potatoes on one end, and some sushi and shrimp tempura on the other. Best of both worlds."

She wasn't exactly sure of what Sam wanted, so she covered the basic bases.

The scent of meat and potatoes mixes with the tempura batter, rice, and wasabi, overpowering the subtle mechanical smells of the ship. Ahh, beef, you can't get enough of that. I get a good look at her hands as she sets down the flatware; some how she's kept them from getting battered and calloused working on all of these crazy machines. Ah shit, chopsticks... these things always make my hand cramp. And the rub is that there's no other way to really eat sushi.

I grab a pair of 'sticks, pluck a few pieces of deep red tuna and rice, and place them on my own plate. The dark color of soy sauce lightens as I mix in the green wasabi and watch her take a seat. My soy and wasabi mix is slowly absorbed by the rice as I hold a piece of sushi in it and let that little bit of velvet in my voice soften up my rough edges, "Sorry, Sakurako, I've had horrible manners tonight. Thank you for inviting me and you look wonderful, even with the stains." I ain't joking and I ain't hiding it either. She does look good in the sweater, it seems to "pop" on her just right, and, despite the spread she's laid out, part of my noggin' can't get rid of the image of her pink hair all messed up and falling down on my face...

Sakurako lets out a small laugh. "There is no problem. I personally hate Chopsticks. I think of them more as some sort of Dietary control..."

She unwraps two napkins, revealing a standard set of silverware.

"I prefer to eat in a more efficient manner. To hell with tradition. I'm hungry."

Sakurako looks over Sam Grey, for the rough exterior, somehow he is more personible. Softer than the callouses and wrinkling of a rough life protrayed in front of her.

For a second, it seems that Ronin was with her again. But this was different. This was an earnest... and perhaps brutally honest... individual, but someone with what feels to be permanence. Or perhaps it's some stubborn streak that Sakurako is yet to encounter?

As Sakurako takes a knife to her steak, she starts wondering Have I shut myself in enough to have to literaly bait someone, for some time with something that has a soul?

Oh, I like this kid. A smile slips onto my face again behind my glass as I sneak in a drink as she speaks. She'll forego tradition for expediency's sake and she's honest. Most people wouldn't think she has a shred of practicality in her, but there it is... yea, I like her a lot.

Ah, here it is, the delicate (and fucking stupid at times) dance of eating and talking at the same without looking like a goddamn pig. I add the western silverware to the growing collection of things in front of me and I start to alternate between the meat and fish while keeping an eye on her. She's a looker, that's for sure, but I've got that habit of observation too. This ship is pretty fucking big, it'd normally take a decent sized crew to man it, but her powers and design have taken care of that little technicality. Problem is, without a crew it's pretty fucking empty too. It's gotta be real lonely here, just machines and other electronic crap. Yea yea yea , I know she likes that junk, but look at her, there's something just waiting under the surface. Even being a grease monkey, she's a person too, a grown woman (and cute one to boot, despite the fact that everyone seems like a kid to me), and some kind of isolation is getting to her. I sure as shit can relate, I don't get to make connections and that isolation can really sting. Small wonder why my ex left, though that bitch can fucking burn in hell for all I care now.

I can see the walls around her, keeping this poor girl, this poor woman, away from the rest of us average schmucks. I can't be totally positive, but she invited me out here to make some kind of connection. Yea... men and women can't stay as islands forever, sometimes we need to reconnect, even for the shortest amount of time. She might not know it yet, but I probably need this time as much as she does. I lean forward a bit and create a bit of an air of intimacy between us, the table and food aside, as I switch to Japanese, "This ship is huge... why do you keep yourself alone here? You're too vibrant to be locked up in a bucket of bolts..."

"The only crew I can find is baseline. If there was an accident, they would be a liability. The few friends I have that are Novas have lives outside of hanging around. My drones take care of most necessary operations, and when on the move, I am usually onboard the bridge, which I purposely designed for being controlled either by a crew or just myself. Although during that time I can't really be bothered."

She then starts thinking of why, as she alternates between the silverware for the steak and potatoes, and the chopsticks for the Sushi. Using forks for such a food wouldn't feel right to her.

"As for staying alone here personally..."

She pauses.

"I... Haven't trusted anyone really close enough since that man... But he never stuck around. I just don't have anybody I trust that wouldn't mind a nerdy tinkerer as a roommate. Or more, a significant other."

Suddenly, the fish seems more bitter. In more of a psychosomatic response than actual bad preparation or bad meat.

"I've always found it harder to open up to people. I can't read them well. I always end up sticking my foot in my mouth. A couple of seminars, and I like to be alone with my projects. It becomes more annoying when I know there is so much to do in this damned town, and not a single thought crosses my mind to get involved with it. There's 20 million people in the region, Sam. You'd think I'd have a little phonebook where I'd plan a hook-up with old friends."

"See where I'm getting at?"

Trust... ha, yea, that's something I remember. Trust can save lives, trust can fucking kill, and she's already as jaded about it as me. I set down my knife and fork on the table (goddamnit, and I haven't had a good steak in a long time too), lock my blue eyes with her pink ones, and make sure she knows my entire focus is on her. "Yea, I can see it," I say, letting that lilt in my voice let her know no woman but her exists in the world right now, "And you haven't screwed up a single step with me yet. No foot in your mouth and no misreading." Not that she's saying a lot, but that might just change.

That's one of the tricks of PIs: keeping someone's focus and I need to keep hers. Whatever edge normally rides my ice blue eyes has gone away as I keep talking, "Now trust and opening up to people... yea, I know exactly what that's like. See this?" I hold my left hand across the table and food for her to get a good look at it, "That ring finger is still smooth from my ring. I gave decades of my life to that bitch and the thanks I get is her betraying and cutting me right to the bone." Bitch coulda taken off an arm from me and it would've been better... but this ain't the point. "My prior career and my line of work has filled me to the fucking gills with stuff I don't get to share and rather never knew happened. I don't get to tell someone 'what I did today' and committed relationships make my stomach twist in pain over bad memories, so yea, I see where you're getting at and I think I'm starting here with you." I gotta be careful... she needs this, I need this, but I don't want to get killed. "The way I see it, both of us are more than a little isolated in our own way. We've both been able to survive like this but it'll kill us in the long run if we keep it up. We've got a chance, Sakurako, here and now, to open up, connect, and escape that isolation at least for tonight. And not because I'm a distinguished man and you're a stunning woman, but because no one else probably just understands how we both feel.

"Whaddya say, Sakurako? I can open up for a bit if you do too."

Sakurako looks Sam over again. She can almost... feel... his reasoning. For a while, his harsh demeanor seemed just another Nova with some bluster. But now... She swallows back a slice of sushi.

"I think we do have more in common with each other, than i first assessed."

She wonders how far back she should go. Ibiza... Her 2 months of possible dementia... her breakdown...

"To put things bluntly, for all I've created here, I still feel like a failure. Like my job is never done, never complete. The thing I always default to is my initial instinct... to protect. I have seen people be controlled, Sam, and I am one of those people as well. Before her death, my Mother was a controlling bitch. I had sort of became one before I had a breakdown. I dissapear, and other than a few fragments of memory, I return two months later, but I remember a 25 year gap. Then there is things like my fight with DeathSquad, then the disaster at Ibiza."

She clears her throat.

"You wish to know why all those things happened? Either I let myself be controlled, or I let others be controlled. It seems though that every step I take I've always needed someone to help me."

She looks down at her plate.

"Some times I wonder if I'm strong enough to help others in return."

Yea, she's right: we do have more in common. Sure, we've got our fashion differences, but we're both fucking broken in our own, special little way. Come on, old man, make her feel her age instead of her years. I move about the table and snatch a chair so I'm right next to her; we're both using enough damn barriers and it's better to get them out of the way. I can smell that strange mix of electronics and grease on her, mingling with what must be her shampoo or something girly like that. I put a comforting hand on her shoulder, my thumb resting along that gradual ridge of the muscle leading to the neck, and I lean a bit so I can keep my eyes on her face, "You got more strength than you probably know. Strength isn't taking an artillery shell to the chest like some of those walking gods, it's doing what you thinks is right when it's the hardest thing to do. I've heard about all of the things you've done for your friends and I've be in the same kind of places. Being worried about your own skin while facing down death to because it's the right thing to do isn't weakness, it's called common sense." My fingers and thumb give her shoulder a gentle squeeze to drive home the point and my free hand reaches up to chin just long enough to guide her vision back to me, "You've walked with gods, Sakurako. You're plenty strong." Not strong enough? Shit, she's strong enough to put up with a dirty old man like me, I think she's doing ok.

Relating to someone is everything when you want a positive connection. Deep down where none of us can control it, we're all selfish assholes that love hearing about our own shit, hence we like to hear other people talk about the same crap we've done. Sad fact, even more sad most people don't get that, and nothing we can do about it. She's tickling that feeling in me, best I do the same in return. After all, it's her night and not mine. "And everyone is controlled, whether they like it or not. My family controlled me to join the academy, my leaders controlled me to learn and experience fucking hell, and my country controlled me to do horrible shit." That's more than I'd normally tell anyone but quid pro quo and all.

I finally let the mundane air I keep around me dissolve and my coy smile picks up that little extra oomph. Goddamn, do you have any idea what it's like walking around all the time like that? "You even controlled me when I came here tonight, just as that cute smile of yours was tugging my strings earlier and my own words are probably controlling you. But that doesn't mean I couldn't choose to accept your offer by my own free will, because I did decide to come here all on my own." And if I had seen that ass before hand I would've broken down the door on my way over here. What, all of that fluffy crap I'm telling her is true but that doesn't mean I don't have a pulse!

"You're no weakling or failure, Sakurako, no more than I am. And you're a better cook than I am and you're way hotter than me to boot."

"Way hotter?"

Sakurako's impulses start to kick in. She starts stroking his right shoulder slightly. Feeling his musclature.

"Sam, there are action heroes that don't look as good as you."

She smiles.

"I know what it is like to be in a military mindset. Had to eat sleep and drink it when I thought I could be an elite. All I got was my walking papers and the occasional nightmare of what could have been. Hell, if it wasn't for this idea being born around us, I would have signed up to the JSDF. Anything to return home..."

She pauses for a moment.

"I think even after just having a few months without a place to call home except for this ship, I... sort of got things in perspective."

She has a few bites of some shrimp tempura, then runs her hand along the side of his face. Sam's skin is rough, worn, but feels like it is sincere, real. Something she can touch. Whatever little he's revealed, she knows he's being earnest and honest.

"Having you here at this moment, makes me believe there is some purpose to it all."

Goddamn, something definitely clicked in her. She needs to let go more, it makes her look even better. Confidence and comfort can do more for a person than fucking makeup and clothes. But this is a good thing, her opening up... and something tells me I should feel a lucky to experience it. Most of Japan would kill my ass to be here but it'd just go over their heads. I wrap my hand around hers, I can't feel any callouses and it feels so smooth and delicate in my own mit, and I smile again for her, "I haven't a clue if there's a purpose behind everything, but I like us making a purpose." My other hand slowly follows the line of her shoulder to sit at the base of her neck, fitting into that pink hair, "And you're right; being with you does give me some hope."

My eyes slowly look to the food and then back to her and I keep a gentle smile on my face, "Eat, Sakurako. We have a whole night for me to be your Sam, you to be my Sakurako, the kind of moments we can't have alone with our pain." No need to rush, this is the kind of intimacy that beats everything.

A small drone brings out the second dish.

"Indeed. We have all the time in the world for now. Care to sample some italian? I made plenty."

She had made a full italian course for the second plate. Lasagna, Spaghetti, the whole basics.

"When I eat, it is to enjoy every inch of my pallette. When I realized the maximum I can take in, and combined that with my new-found cooking ability... I found I can quite easily break a commandment, and not feel one ounce guilty for it."

Ah, she's into it now and I think she's making double entendres too... well, isn't she just a collection of pleasant surprises? Satisfied with her comfort, I lean back in the chair with a smile and organize a new plate, "Despite all of the baggage we get for being novas, I think we've got a great deal when it comes to indulging our tastes." Hey, when in Rome... or Tokyo.

Oh yea, this woman is definitely Japanese, she's prepared for everything. Good steak, fresh sushi... looks like she made some nice pesto to boot in that mix. That decadent part of me wonders what else she's got waiting in the kitchen, but I know shit like this is only temporary. After this I'm back to meals that taste like shit, slipped in whenever I can make it fit, and not this kind of variety. Though the dessert is what I'm gonna miss the most... I just can't shake the thought of her pressed up against me all sweaty and in her birthday suit. And a damn fine one too from the looks of it.

I lazily turn my fork on the plate, slowly wrapping some fettucini onto the prongs, and I give her ankle a gentle tap with the tip of my foot to keep her mind with me, "So what else do you do in your free time aside tinkering? I don't spend all my time as a private dick; sometimes you gotta make time to listen to some old motown or catch an old movie."

Sakurako looks up at Sam with a smirk. "I study Humans."

She says this in a matter of fact tone, almost coldly... like a scientist.

"That, and I train. Simply put, my frame wasn't enough for the work I'm about to be doing."

Shit, this woman doesn't take a night off. Despite all of this damn pink she's still got that scientist edge in her. Well holy shit, don't I feel like I'm in a James Bond movie, complete with the cold scientist that's secretly a total babe that's just waiting for the right man to give her what she needs so she can defy some supervillian. Nah, she's already revealed too much to really be like that... besides, I don't see some bald idiot holding a fluffy cat either.

Alright, let's see where some of the comfort level is at. I give her that patented coy smile, "Oh come on, there's gotta be something you do when you really take a night off. Though I hate to disappoint if you brought me here for a clandestine observation: I'm not human either." Damn, I really hope she does get to wind down some times, otherwise I'm gonna have to check on her every few months or so. Don't get me wrong, each visit would be great, even if she was with another guy (though it would be much less fun), but a dispassionate nova with her intelligence and practicality is not something that's good for this world. I rest my chin in my hand and make my smile a little more enticing, "I'm sure you have some guilty pleasures in you. It's just you and me, Sakura, I'll never let it leave the room."

Sakurako blushes. Being called Sakura is something short of a key for her heart.

"You really want to know..."

She sees his composure. Her line about studying Humans like test subjects has him off guard. She is testing him as much as he opens her up.

Her smile widens.

"It's really just a guilty pleasure more than anythig else."

She sighs. this might ruin the entire moment beyond repair orcreate a jovial atmosphere...

"I cosplay... Alot... excessively perhaps. At least by expending all my free time doing so when I feel sociable.

I loved doing it as a kid, being someone else. I still do.

Making costumes, wearing them, showing them off, or simply living a few moments in another's shoes, even if fictional... facinates me. Virtual Simulations aren't enough for me."

She looks towards her dinner plate.

"I am an incurable otaku."

She never thought she'd feel some shame in calling herself that. For a short time she actually wore it as a badge of defiance. Now... In a real social situation... it's an anchor around her neck, and she's being dumped into the marianas trench.

Cosplaying, eh? Now there's something after my time. Shit, I was in high school and then the Boat Yard during that whole summer of love and other hippy crap, people expanding their mind and fucking like bunnies with anything and anyone. Well, maybe that's a little closer to the seventies disco scene, talk about an endless and selfish party. Anyways, it appears that she still a touch of the mundane in her beneath that pink hair, cute smile, and piles and piles of technology. It makes me feel a bit older again but it does make her more attractive. I might be an old shit, but most guys would give their left nut to have five minutes alone with her, no strings attached and no holds barred. And here's little ol' me, hearing all about her dark secrets. Fortunately, I understand and appreciate the distinction.

The artificial light really doesn't help here, it's too harsh to make anyone look right and it's just enhancing the embarrassment on her face. I can still smell that mechanical and girly scent of her through the oregano and basil of the Italian food, though, just tickling me in the back of my mind. She's floundering, I'd better bring her back in. "Nothing wrong with that," I say with a relaxed smile, "You know what you enjoy and you do it. The world is full of strange hobbies and guilty pleasures, Sakura, and you're doin' just fine. After all, you could be standing in below freezing temperatures half naked with body paint on just to support 'your' team." Yea, I know that's a dated reference she might not get, but I can't help grinning at the notion of her acting like a sports fanatic, pink body paint and all.

"So," I say with genuine interests, "Do I get to see some of your work after dinner?"

"I dunno, depends on the final purpose of the tour."

Oh crap... now I'm in it.

Sakurako realizes she's trapped now. Is this just a curiosity, or something else?

Great, she's getting that scared doe in the woods look. I'd better bring her back down easy before that little heart of hers in her chest explodes. "Sakura," I say with a reassuring smile, "I'm not some lecherous old man looking for a show, I have an honest interest in your pastimes."

See, the real trick is to remind her of the connection while letting her know that this isn't some kind of "ok, drop your pants" booty call. I take my chin off my hand and reach out to give hers a comforting touch, "It's your night and nothing you don't want to happen will happen. You're much easier on the eyes than I am, but that doesn't mean that I can't be interested in who you are." Shit, what does she think I am, some teenager who wants to shove everything off the table and bring the woman out of her on top of it like it's some kind of bad eighties song? I swear, I'm the only person left who gets the concept of romance and I'm a goddamn recluse with no attachments. But, to be honest, that primal side in me wouldn't mind the table option one bit. See, that's the great part about maturity: you learn how to save up that stuff for the appropriate moment.

"Let's focus on dinner. I'm still sorta empty right now. Besides, there is still dessert.

I decided on choclate cake, and ice cream. Basic as it gets."

Thank god... You know... I might just show off my creations to him.

"You know... you sort of look like a rougher around the edges Lupin the Third..."

Sakurako laughs while thinking Man... he might be a geek too... let's take this path. Find a common interest. He seems to be the tough type.

"Then again, what do YOU like?"