Owner	Pose
Desmond mac Morna	Desmond mac Morna must have arrived early. Or, at least, earlier than Morrigan. He sits at a small table for two, but in a quiet booth in the back of the restaurant, away from the kitchen, away from most of the traffic restaurant, and where his back is to a wall. Who knows if all of that is on accident or by design. The crowd is only moderately heavy, and at the table for two sits a tall man with a meticulously groomed beard. His blue eyes never rest, really. He's not furtively glancing around, or anything, but new movements and new people and changes to the scenery grab his attention for a moment whenever they happen. Four glasses are set out. Two of them are pint glasses, filled with some sort of foamy ale so dark it is almost black. The other two appear to be glasses of water. Patiently, he waits.
Morrigan MacIntyre	Morrigan wasn't late, but she'd had a meeting at Mount Sinai that she had to close out early to get here in enough time without using magic. She actually liked going to this place when she had business and work outside of Happy Harbor. She is dressed much different than she was the evening that they met. Her hair is tamed back into a loose braid and she wears a dove grey dress along with a black pencil skirt and those heels of hers. She takes a moment to look around when she enters and she gives a smile when she spots Desmond. She starts to head that way with a little bit of hurrying, "I was trying not to be late." she tells him. "I hope this is alright?" she asks him as she looks to him as she settles her back down on the other side of her chair and then seats herself.
Desmond mac Morna	Desmond mac Morna rises from his table as Morrigan approaches. There's nothing showy about it. He does it in the sort of way that a man does when he is fulfilling a societal expectation -- absently and thoughtlessly. And as she nears, his face breaks into a warm smile. Not the polite smile of public business from the night before, but a rich and vibrant smile filled with happiness as his shockingly blue eyes fall to face. His voice, though, is that weirdly generic broadcaster's voice. "You've kept to your word. You're here on time." As she sits, his attention remains focused on her. "Why wouldn't it be alright? I'm sitting with a lovely woman who agreed to share a meal with me. Life cannot be better." And then he slides down into his seat. "Thank you for coming."
Morrigan MacIntyre	Morrigan gives a soft smile as he greets her, she wasn't sure why she had that little tingle in her toes over it, but she moves on with things. It was just nice to be out and Riordan had been THRILLED to hear he didn't have to deal with her moping around the house. "I'd hate to break my word and things. Especially in this situation." the Irish woman states. While his voice might be generic, she doesn't hide her accent. "And...people don't get the novelty of the place. Plus...I like the little potato mascot." she whispers to him. "You don't have to thank me. Thank you for inviting me." she smiles to that. "How has the day been so far?" she asks him.
Desmond mac Morna	Desmond mac Morna nods his head, intoning like reading from a religious text, "Nothing worse than a word breaker." It comes out of him like a Baptist might say 'Amen.' He pauses to regard her. Silence falls over the table for a few moments, though for his part, he doesn't seem at all unnerved by it. He watches her, clearly taking in the nuance of....her. All of her. Then he smiles, the radiant light of it bright on his face. "You know, I knew an O'Shughnessy, once. Couldn't hold a pint to save his own life, and let his eyes get peeled by anything walking past wearing knickers he thought he could make drop." He looks around the restaurant, eyes settling on the potato mascot. "Eh. This place is fine. Besides....I was able to cobble something together." He motions to the drinks. "Johnny-jump-up. Ever try it?"
Morrigan MacIntyre	Morrigan gives a chuckle to that, "Sounds like we're on the same page when it comes to things like that." she nods to him. She then takes a sip of her water to beat some of the heat that followed her in. She gives a look to him though while he regards her. She doesn't squirm under his gaze or anything like that. The smile makes her straighten up though and she listens to his story, "He sounds like half of the Irish lads from the olden days...or today really." she muses. "Cobble something together?" she asks him. "And no, never heard of it outside of the violets that are named that." she tells him.
Desmond mac Morna	Desmond mac Morna brightens at her answer. "Ah! Then you're in for a treat! Well. I hope that you are, anyhow. You might hate it." He holds his forefinger and thumb maybe three inches apart. "Half Guinness. Half cider." And, at the next, he actually seems a little excited. "Bulmers, even, if you can believe? The decor made me think....well. It doesn't matter. Guinness and Bulmers? This place is all right in my book." He motions to the glass on her half of the table. "If you hate it, it's not going to offend me. I'll just have to find some other way to impress you." The thing of it is? He seems to mean that. He is clearly confident he'll impress the woman, someway, somehow.
Morrigan MacIntyre	Morrigan gives a smile to him as he explains what the drink is and there is a look to the glass, "I guess I'll try anything once." she tells him as she looks form the glass to him. His excitement is what made it something she'd try. "Is there a specific way to drink it or is it just pick it up and drink it?" she asks him curiously. Then there is a curious quirk of her brow, "Why would you be worried about impressing me?" she asks him. "And I don't think I'll hate it. I'm just not a big drinking person." she chuckles.
Desmond mac Morna	Desmond mac Morna's mouth opens as he begins to answer. But rather than speak, he pauses. There is a sense of internal deliberation playing out on his features. "Firstly...you just drink it like any cider or ale. And it's as I said...if you dislike it? That's just fine." He leans into the table, watching her, openly intrigued by her. Out of the blue, he says, "I can smell the magic on you, you know. and if I can smell it, it hangs off you, heavy like gold. I can barely sense it, compared to most." He offers her a shrug. It is obvious he considers saying something else, but he settles on: "And why do I want to impress you? Because you're beautiful in a way that people write poems and songs about, and I'm a man who sees it. Of course I want to impress you."
Morrigan MacIntyre	Morrigan reaches out to take up the mixed drink and watches him over the rim of the glass as he speaks. She takes a few sips and there's a bit of a smile, "That's good." she tells him. "Not anything bad about it." she states as she settles the glass back down. She wasn't expecting his next comment and there's a moment that she looks at him. "Well...I'm a Master of the Mystic Arts and Demi God, so that would probably be why you can sense that." she admits. Then there's a bit of a sheepish look, "Ah...well...no ones wrote any songs or poems lately." she tells him. "I don't need those things." she adds. "If you are looking to impress just stay around more than a week." she states as she gives him a soft smile.
Desmond mac Morna	Desmond mac Morna considers her words not with a smile, but quite seriously. Across the table, he asks, quietly, "Ask me again. Ask me again to stay around for at least a week?" The words are offered with a softly entreating tone.
Morrigan MacIntyre	Morrigan gives a curious look to him and there is a bit of a moment taken to think on things and then she leans foward a little, "I don't want to ask that as I don't want to bind you into anything." she tells him quietly. "I'm just used to people coming and going, don't mind me." she admits. Though she realizes the tone and she gives a look to him, "Stay for a week?" she finally asks. "If at the end of the week you've found something that doesn't fit or you just hate the vibe of things then it's fine to go separate ways and all of that." she nods.
Desmond mac Morna	Desmond mac Morna's voice becomes...odd. There is a sense of some sort of power building. It's subtle, but it's there. "Ask me a third time. Ask me to stay around, fo at least one week. Ask me to be your companion for that week, and it shall be so." His eyes seem to change color now, the color fading from startlingly blue to something more blue-silver.
Morrigan MacIntyre	Morrigan hears the odd voice and there is a bit of a look given to him, "No." she tells him. "No magical pacts." she tells him. She gives a bit of a sigh to that and reaches out to pick up the glass and finish off the drink. She then settles it back down. "Look, you're handsome, well dressed, obviously educated. Just...I am very jaded. I don't want you to think that I'm not interested. I just won't bind you to something like that." she tells him.
Desmond mac Morna	Desmond mac Morna blinks. Her refusal seems to surprise him. In fact, he looks on, slightly uncomprehendingly. Quietly, he peers across the table at her. "You'd just.....trust me to stick around?" His mouth works, open and closed. In a fairly sure sign he's rattled, his accent slips, and the lilt that colors his speech is strong, rural, and probably impenetrable to anyone not from Ireland. "I'm not used to anyone willing to just.....do things. Everything and everyone is bound to everything and everyone around them, where I come from." His head tilts, and he asks in a quiet voice, "What will I need to do for you, for this gift?" He tries to seem like he's not dubious, and mostly succeeds...but it's clear there is some sort of lingering distrust.
Morrigan MacIntyre	Morrigan gives a look across the table to him, "Desmond." she breathes out the name. "What you're not comprehending is that free will is a thing and for those that don't get to use it a lot it is a gift. I am giving you the chance to use that." she tells him. "Aye, you're from the fae lands and I am very much not. So...we're going to have a little friction there." she grins to him. "Here..." she states as she pulls out a small pad of paper and a pen. She jots an address down and then hands it over to him, "Come to this address tonight?" she asks him.
Desmond mac Morna	Desmond mac Morna looks down at the pad, eyes flowing over her writing, his head nodding slowly up and down. Then he looks to her face. "Where is this?" He lifts one hand, palm out. "I am not saying no, Morrigan. I just wish to know what I am agreeing to." He blows out a breath, then. "Aye, I'm from the Fae lands.But what does a woman of your immense and terrifying power want with someone like me? I'm....nothing. A speck. The workhorse of a faerie."
Morrigan MacIntyre	Morrigan gives a look over to him and there's a softer smile, "It's my home." she tells him. "And I just want to talk in a not so public place. While things are fairly level with people and magic...that doesn't mean that humans won't react poorly." she points out in a soft tone. "You have my word that I will not hurt you and that while you are in my home you will be under my protection. Is that amiable, Desmond?" she asks him.
Desmond mac Morna	This, more than anything else, seems to put him at ease. She can see tension fade in him, the coiled sense of being partly ready to leap into sudden action leaving him. Well. Mostly. He smiles, then. "I would love to see your home." He nods to her, slowly and seriously. "I agree. And I look forward to it. On what date do you wish me to present myself?" Again ,there is something...formal about it, as if he can't quite help himself.
Morrigan MacIntyre	Morrigan smiles as his tension eases, "That is good. It's a pretty great place." she tells him. Then she listens to him accept things and she gives a soft little clap of her hands in delight. "Oh, tonight?" she asks him. "Unless you have a hot date you don't want to be late to." she teases him gently.
Desmond mac Morna	Desmond mac Morna lifts his shoulders in a shrug, head tilting to one side. "I do have a hot date tonight, actually." He then smiles across the table to her, confident, sincere, pleased. "You." His blue eyes meet hers. then he pauses, raising both hands suddenly, palms out. "Oh! Please understand, I make no claims on you, not do I have any expectations. You've no debt with me!"
Morrigan MacIntyre	Morrigan gives a look to him, "Oh, well...I'm sorry." she chuckles to him when he states that his hot date is her. "I am luke warm at best." she teases him. The she sobers, "It's fine. I know that. You...calm down." she whispers. "Let's get some food and I have another meeting at the hospital before tonight. If you need a quick portal to my place tonight just text and I'll open one for you." she grins to him.
Desmond mac Morna	Desmond mac Morna nods at that. "I could eat that lambs of Jesus through the rungs of a chair, I could." The weird American broadcaster voice is gone, replaced with something far more....colorful. Then he asks, looking at the menu, "Now, then. What am I hungry for, tonight....."