( paco's reminds her of the tex-mex places she'd frequent back in central city, the kind that offers 2-for-1 margarita specials on fight nights and endless chips and salsa with the purchase of any drinks. it's loud, and a little tacky, and generally not exactly the kind of place you'd take a date you wanted to impress, but there's personality too. authenticity in the flavors, if not necessarily the decor.
they find a parking space with little difficulty, robbie's excellent handling pulling in to an opening that most would pass up. the car pulls up just a breath away from a lazily parked sedan on the right, one that's easily half a foot over the line, and linda knows trying to open the passenger side door is just asking for a ding on somebody's car. not exactly the best way to start an evening. so instead, she follows him out, that palm draped over his thigh easily slid over to catch on his offered hand instead, letting him guide her across the bench seat and out the driver's side door. it's a gallant little motion, a nice surprise; she's not normally one to oblige saccharine gestures on a first date, but somehow, she finds she doesn't mind.
there's a few moments of waiting before a table can be found, but once they're seated, service is quick, the waitress bringing over a menu that's admittedly larger than she'd expected, and gesturing to a chalkboard wall detailing the various flavors and variations on the margarita available for purchase. it's not enough just to have a classic, or just to order one. it's a 2-for-1 night, apparently. )
Avocado, obviously, and... ( a quick glance across the table, ) blood orange? Yeah?
[just because is the living embodiment of a bad boy doesn't mean that robbie is lacking in manners. one look at her side of the car makes it abundantly clear that she won't be able to exit. hence the offered hand. if it happens to mean that he gets to thread their fingers together as they enter, well, that's just icing on the cake.
their wait for a table is thankfully brief, and they make their way past colorful oilcloth covered tables and jalapeno shaped sting lights to a table not too far from the bar. the server heads off after a quick affirmation from his end to put in their drink order.
she comes back right after that with a huge basket of chips and a cup of salsa for them to share. he grabs a chip, scoops a healthy amount of salsa on it and nods in approval as the spice hits his tongue.]
Reminds me a little of home. Surprised there's no picture of the Virgin though.
( the salsa's got kick, surprisingly enough. it's not hot enough to earn the soap and water treatment, not by any stretch, but there's spice in each bite that's nicely complimented by the crisp snap of tomato. to his observation, linda hums, drumming her fingertips against the stamped metal table top; the waitress comes back with two oversized tall glasses, filled up to the brim with cool blends on tequila and lime.
neither is her drink; just as she'd hoped it would be, the avocado is cool and clean, the warmth of the tequila underneath a welcome buzz. after a moment, linda pushes the glass towards him, an encouraging gesture for him to take a sip. once he does, she continues, ) You know, I wasn't expecting to run into a drag racer in a place like this.
( not that she had much in the way of expectations upon arrival, but drag racer definitely wasn't one of the few things she had considered. a paid vacation, opportunity to take a break from the real world, a few cuddles here and there. but this was a welcome surprise, one she was growing happier with at each well-handled turn. )
[he takes the offered avocado margarita, experimental sip, tip of his tongue darting out to lick away the last bits of salt still clinging to his lips. a low pleased rumble sounds from his side of the table. he can't complain about that one bit.]
And I wasn't expecting to meet a sports reporter. My hobbies aren't exactly covered by traditional news media. At least not in that section of the paper.
[he says it with a laugh, reaching for his own blood orange on the rocks. its bright, tart flavor and the hint of berry finish is refreshing. robbie slides his glass toward her. only seems fair to share and share alike.]
Hey now. I definitely covered the races in Keystone.
( granted, most of them were illegal street races, and the coverage bordered on special interest rather than true sports, but she wasn't completely clueless when it came to fast cars and the men who drove them.
he shares his drink with her, a return on her gesture, and she smiles over the lip of the glass. the flavors are much brighter, and without the blended ice, it's a stronger taste of citrus and tequila. not that she's complaining. it stands up well to the heat of the chilis in the salsa — the same salsa that, linda's pleased to note, robbie seems to have no problem enjoying. )
[he has no earthly idea where the hell keystone is, but wherever it is apparently they've got racing, so it must be an interesting place to visit.
he'd ask her to elaborate but she eyes him over his offered glass as she takes a sip. his earlier assessment that she's gonna be trouble is proving more and more true by the second.]
The hotter the better. I think they'd kick me out of town if I couldn't.
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they find a parking space with little difficulty, robbie's excellent handling pulling in to an opening that most would pass up. the car pulls up just a breath away from a lazily parked sedan on the right, one that's easily half a foot over the line, and linda knows trying to open the passenger side door is just asking for a ding on somebody's car. not exactly the best way to start an evening. so instead, she follows him out, that palm draped over his thigh easily slid over to catch on his offered hand instead, letting him guide her across the bench seat and out the driver's side door. it's a gallant little motion, a nice surprise; she's not normally one to oblige saccharine gestures on a first date, but somehow, she finds she doesn't mind.
there's a few moments of waiting before a table can be found, but once they're seated, service is quick, the waitress bringing over a menu that's admittedly larger than she'd expected, and gesturing to a chalkboard wall detailing the various flavors and variations on the margarita available for purchase. it's not enough just to have a classic, or just to order one. it's a 2-for-1 night, apparently. )
Avocado, obviously, and... ( a quick glance across the table, ) blood orange? Yeah?
no subject
their wait for a table is thankfully brief, and they make their way past colorful oilcloth covered tables and jalapeno shaped sting lights to a table not too far from the bar. the server heads off after a quick affirmation from his end to put in their drink order.
she comes back right after that with a huge basket of chips and a cup of salsa for them to share. he grabs a chip, scoops a healthy amount of salsa on it and nods in approval as the spice hits his tongue.]
Reminds me a little of home. Surprised there's no picture of the Virgin though.
no subject
neither is her drink; just as she'd hoped it would be, the avocado is cool and clean, the warmth of the tequila underneath a welcome buzz. after a moment, linda pushes the glass towards him, an encouraging gesture for him to take a sip. once he does, she continues, ) You know, I wasn't expecting to run into a drag racer in a place like this.
( not that she had much in the way of expectations upon arrival, but drag racer definitely wasn't one of the few things she had considered. a paid vacation, opportunity to take a break from the real world, a few cuddles here and there. but this was a welcome surprise, one she was growing happier with at each well-handled turn. )
no subject
And I wasn't expecting to meet a sports reporter. My hobbies aren't exactly covered by traditional news media. At least not in that section of the paper.
[he says it with a laugh, reaching for his own blood orange on the rocks. its bright, tart flavor and the hint of berry finish is refreshing. robbie slides his glass toward her. only seems fair to share and share alike.]
no subject
( granted, most of them were illegal street races, and the coverage bordered on special interest rather than true sports, but she wasn't completely clueless when it came to fast cars and the men who drove them.
he shares his drink with her, a return on her gesture, and she smiles over the lip of the glass. the flavors are much brighter, and without the blended ice, it's a stronger taste of citrus and tequila. not that she's complaining. it stands up well to the heat of the chilis in the salsa — the same salsa that, linda's pleased to note, robbie seems to have no problem enjoying. )
So you can take the heat, huh?
no subject
[he has no earthly idea where the hell keystone is, but wherever it is apparently they've got racing, so it must be an interesting place to visit.
he'd ask her to elaborate but she eyes him over his offered glass as she takes a sip. his earlier assessment that she's gonna be trouble is proving more and more true by the second.]
The hotter the better. I think they'd kick me out of town if I couldn't.