[PROMPT] Surprise, Surprise

Matentines was here and with it, a flurry of chaos the likes of which Arsene could only attest was to the season. Sure, their kind did enjoy every sinful pleasure that was allowed to them but when it included the small window that breeding *was* viable? It seemed to awaken every primal urge a bun could have and make even the most sensible of buns be overeager.

Arsene, unfortunately, fell into that crowd. He had his wits about him certainly, but he was not immune to gnawing hunger that seeped into his marrow. So for now, he would have to find someone willing to, well, at least give him the time of day for starters. The rest he would just have to wait and see.

He appears at a quaint bar, one that wasn't as busy as the nearby restaurants or parks. It's still a little early for the evening crowd to really settle in anyway which gives Arsene a wonderful vantage point from where he looms to watch incoming patrons for his would-be date.

He has little information about them, just a number "2" and the type of horns they had; pride. Well, similar to him at least. It would have been helpful if there was a name attached but he suspected Oleander was too busy with other matters to care about the semantics. Typical.

Turning to the bartender, he orders himself a sinnamon whiskey and turns out to the streets of buns making their way around. He's done this a little while now and every time, he's still pleasantly surprised. Arsene couldn't help but imagine who this fellow pride bun might be and just how this date might go.

-

Wasn't it just the most superb time of the year? Same way flowers would shake off the winter slumber at the first rays of spring, the first hint of the season really brought out the best ( and worst ) to be sampled in Burrowgatory. As if overnight, the whole length and breath of their wonderful little city of debauchery had been bathed in gauzy, hazy red glow. Tinged pink at the edges for those who wished to take a *la vie en rose* approach to the festivities.

The lights turned low, and all the inhibitions and clothes came off with an exhale, and flutter of lashes.

Church considered himself fortunate enough to be somewhat in control of his faculties enough to not become a slave to the obvious, thanks in part to his job, but it didn't mean that he was completely inoculated against it's urges. An appetite *was* an appetite, no matter how one tried to measure it out in careful spoons. Matentines persisted like a particular hard-to-reach itch, somewhere where even the most talented, dexterous fingers couldn't quite relieve. So when he'd rocked up to Oleander to scrawl his name down on the list, cigarette holder pressed between dark painted lips and just a *dusting* of antique pink across pale features, he'd done so with the air of someone who was marginally put out to be so governed by the animalistic.

Tries not to think about it, because the show must as ever, always go on. At least until he's stood outside the cosy little nook, earlier than his usual gimmick for arriving teasingly close to fashionably late. Heels clicking softly against the dark wooden floor to the tune of the soft, chime-sweet tinkling of the myriad of decorations swinging from his horns, jingling against the fabric of his corset. Robe pooled in the crook of his elbows as he took the proffered paper with the number and minimal information, lips twisting in an amused tick upward.

Part of him wanted to ask as a parting quip, if this was Oleanders attempt at a new spin on foreplay. Get them all hot under the collar with a little detective work, just in case numbers didn't equate chemistry. And maybe your real number 2 was number 13, tall, dark and impossibly handsome but riddled with the kind of insecurity that made you want to eat them right up. But he needs a drink, if he's going to mill about the steadily filling place, until he can figure who he's here for.

Sharp, yellow-purple eyes spot a familiar figure, and the urge is a little too strong to help himself. He detours from his original plan to wait until the first sip of liquor touched his lips to warm into the evening. His defense? Well, it *is* the season, and Arsene has always elicited some kind of reaction out of him, and a familiar face at the start of a battle is the same kind of relief as rain after sun. Long fingers extending to touch a muscular arm as he fluidly slid around to come into focus. Smoke across water, satin over velvet. "*Arsene?*" Is his lilted greeting, his mouth quirking upward to reveal the barest hint of teeth, hip checking the counter. "Found your dance partner yet?"

-

With a drink adequately in hand, Arsene takes a small sip and senses someone fast approaching him. He recognizes him almost instantly- how could he not? They were acquaintances- or rather friends, Arsene believes, given the many weekly lunches they have meeting up from time to time. He takes in the other’s grandeur which befits their prideful sin. Immediately, he relaxes and beckons the other over and soon enough, Church was by his side and he was all too glad for it.

“Church,” Arsene chuckled, his tone warm even without the help of the hellfire that surrounded him. “I’m afraid not. Did you sign up for the blind date event too? What a place to put us in, hm?” He’s surprised the other agreed to such a thing but hey, if there’s a call to answer why not see what’s out there right? It wasn’t that he thought Church was above or below such things; on the contrary, he thought the other had an otherworldly beauty to him that other buns could scarcely deny. It was more the choice of venue that the other was subjected to that threw him off. Someone like Church could have attended a fancier outing or at least, should have been in a pool of other buns that befitted the luxurious and elite, right? In a way, Arsene almost felt sorry for whoever the other pride bun had to meet up with. They might not even come close to the other’s expectations or interests as far as the teal bun was concerned.

“I’m not going into this expecting anything, really.” Arsene admits, swirling his drink some. “I’ve gone a couple now and all have been good; no weird encounters, thankfully or anything too . . . risque. Still, it’s good to be out while everyone else is out. Figured if work lets me have some down time, why not?” With a shrug, he sips one more and holds the card with his information face down, as not to give the contents behind it away just in case.

“What about you? Had I known you were interested in this, I would have at least gone to sign up with you so that it could’ve been like, a double-date sort of thing. You think they’d allow that?” The hellfire bun mused, tapping the card against the counter before sliding it under the glass as a makeshift coaster. “Can’t imagine why not but…knowing Oleander and the other buns helping out, you can never be too certain their motives.” Poor Mercy.

What was it, variety was the spice of life? While Church would never deny that he was a creature of unquantifiable comforts, there was always something to be said for getting out of ones *comfort zone*. Too much of the same, good stuff was ripe for rotting — so he'd been told, the only cure was to answer loud with quiet. Extravagant for simple. And, it wasn't as if he was truly unfamiliar with the scenery, but that as ever, was a story for another time. He's more focused on his fellow prideful, unabashed in pinning him beneath a honey warm gaze drizzled richly with his own poorly concealed interest, and a touch of dismay.

That too, was nothing new, Church had a particular palette. Arsene just happened to be one of few which ticked practically ever single box on the private listing. The trickle of displeasure came from his realisation that he'd have to potentially sit here, elbow to elbow, and watch the bun flirt his way through an evening with a complete stranger. Didn't so much matter that he'd also signed up to have his itch scratched with a stranger. But semantics.

"I did. I hope Oleander knows what he's doing, cramming us all in here, no bells and whistles — just a cryptic little number and a horn type." Is his breezy response, smirking around the rim of his glass. Gaze doing yet another once over of the slow trickle of figures dutifully stepping inside and getting acquainted with the night's name of the game. Interesting in their own way, but they didn't quite catch his attention in a way that was meaningful. Shame.

Arsene starts talking again, and Church is inevitably drawn back. "We all need a break." He agrees easily enough, reaching into the pocket of his robe to produce a lighter and a packet of cigarettes after a moment. "Might do you some good to really let loose this Matentines. You work too much, and I've told you that before. Besides, what's one risque and strange encounter but another persons ideal icebreaker. Could be the key to scoring yourself a nice little *anytime anywhere*."

Flicking open his lantern, he takes a moment to light his cigarette, place it in it's holder and wrap his lips around the end of it. "It was a spur of a moment thing, if I'm honest. Something different. Might do it for me, rather than listening to Client's drone about their problems as their attempt at empathetic foreplay." Arsene mentions double-dating, and Church's earlier smirk returns. Easy as whiskey goes down smooth as he settles for both mulling over the proffered question, and admiring the sight before him. "You'd have to play knight in shining armour, if we ever did that. I'd just eat them right up, and then you'd be left all alone to handle me."

He eyes the card sliding under the glass with mild interest, in the same of saving face. "So, *what are you looking for* and what little clue did Oleander give you on your card?"

Arsene couldn’t help but chuckle at that.

“I think that’s part of the charm for him.” The hellfire bun explained, relaxing into the other’s touch and presence. Only ever among close companions did he feel comfortable letting loose like this. His features softened into a boyish charm when he smiled. He shifted his weight against the counter, returning focus to his companion. “The way we’ll all just show up wherever he wants and we figure out if it’s worth the fun or not.”

When Church continues, he couldn’t help but blink a little and shrug, his gaze avoidant now. “I mean. I’m not really…” He cleared his throat. Was he embarrassed? Not necessarily and again, given that it was Matentines, this wasn’t necessarily a taboo topic. “It’s not really something I care for the outcome either way. But my boss says the same thing so I figure if they’re okay with the rest of us going on these dates, what the hell, right? Still. I’m not going to solicit a would-be date for anything untoward.” He runs a hand through his hair, sighing a little.

“Not on the first date, anyway.” He adds as an amusing afterthought.

At the mention of his card he hums and pulls it out from underneath his glass. He holds the drink to his lips and offers it to the other with a casual shrug. “Not lookin’ for anything, really. You can peek the number though, if you want. I think it said something about pride horns though- funny enough. What about yours?” He asks before handing his card over.

-

"Charm? I'd almost say it's a little more than that." The pride bun muses, shaped brow raising with his words. "You make us all sound like his little troupe of circus performers. We roll up to whatever venue he's booked out and perform our little hearts out." Which, wasn't exactly off the mark. It's exactly what happened, wasn't it? They all turned up, turned out, and hopefully all went home in the evening in good company. Maybe the company would never leave, and they'd hang up their ribbons and their shoes, the rest of Matentines thoroughly occupied.

The change in the other buns expression pulls a more sympathetic expression out of the performer. Long finger crooking into one of the chipped ashtrays on the counter and pulling it closer, so he could easily ash his cigarette as required. Not necessarily a touchy subject, but one that had some complications lurking behind it. "Perish the thought, you're nothing but a gentleman." Choosing to instead focus on the more light hearted notes. "It's almost saintly of you." He adds with a wink.

"Don't mind if I do." Is his answer to the invitation to peek, and just as soon as he says it, Church can't help the laugh that escapes him when Arsene hands over his card, and flicks it up to see the information there. He'd been piqued the moment he'd mentioned pride horns, and despite his best attempts at quashing any sort of unrealistic expectation. It's right there, between his fingers. He drains the rest of his own drink and sets it back for a refill, for whenever the bartender drifts back their way. "Well it's just the devils luck isn't it." Church gives as a non-answer, his grin more toothy than usual, as he brandishes his own card and turns it to reveal the same number mirrored behind it. "A double date would've been pointless, we've got each other."

He'd not come into this expecting much, beyond primitive bullet points scribbled in instinctual narrative. But those cards had given him the best, or worst, kind of expectations: the hopeful kind. All those bad, earlier dates sort of fizzled out into thin air. And part of him was thankful for it.

-

Curious, he peeks over to see the other’s card once it’s brandished. Ah, of course this would be the case. He motions for the bartender and gets them both drinks, delighted by the turn of events. “Well, how about that. Guess we do.” He murmured before he snatches the two cards back to take a better look himself.

“Well, we best enjoy what the evening has to offer then, hm?” He rumbled, clinking their drinks together before he takes a sip. “To…interesting company! And enduring friendships all the same.” And with that, he soaks in Church’s company and banter, grateful that this night would be worthwhile and meaningful after all.