[ Blind Date ] Candy and Church

Candy had spent the afternoon freshening up. A shower, makeup, and going through her various clothes. The feeling in her stomach was hard to explain, which she’d tried to achieve several times over with her imp, Dubs.

“You see, I’m not nervous,” she explained, patting glitter into the corner of her eye with her brush. “And I’m not dreading it… I’m looking forward to it. Actually, I’m excited! It’s just…” The brush was abandoned carelessly on the surface of her vanity, hand claiming her sheer lipgloss. “I think I’m just… uncertain. I don’t know what to expect. I’ve never been on a blind date before.”

Dubs listened – at least, she thought he was listening – from a pile of stuffed animals in the corner. He was gnawing at a flavored chew toy she’d made at home to keep him entertained once he’d truly started eating her out of house and home. (Where does he even put it? She often wondered, considering the damned things didn’t even need to eat!) His white eyes followed her curiously around the room.

“That’s half the fun of it, I guess, huh? I’m overthinking.” She smiled at her companion, shrugged, and once she was satisfied with her fluffed-out purple ears, she was on her way.

—

The Rabbit Hole was not her usual haunt, but she always enjoyed herself there. Most nights she was at raves, bouncing clubs, or concerts, but on the rare occasions she found herself at the Casino – well, the bar attached that is – she always had fun. It was loud and boisterous, just a different type than she gravitated towards. “Hi, Hops!”

Candy leaned against the bar on her elbows, wiggling her fingers at the familiar bartender. Hops returned her smile, bustling over with a pep in her step. “Hi, Candy. Always good to see you when you stop by for a visit. Shot, to celebrate an unexpected reunion?” 

Candy laughed and quickly shook her head. “Next time!” She often declined Hops’ propositions, considering the last time Candy had agreed to do a shot with her the poor bartender had gotten an icy look from management; she assumed that led to the poor hostess getting an equally stern talking to later for drinking on the job. “But I could use a drink. I’m meeting someone.”

“Alright,” Hops yielded with a giggle and shrug of her shoulder. “But ‘next time’ better be a promise. The usual?” Candy nodded, already slipping exact change, plus tip, over the counter. Hops whipped up her drink with an expert pour from the tap, and upon delivery, cocked her chin in the direction of a window seat. “You said you’re waiting for someone? I think he’s right over there.”

“Oh! Damn, I thought I was early. Thanks, Hops!” She flashed another wide smile, grabbed her Celestiale, and quickly made her way over to the table she’d been pointed towards. Her potential date made her pause, temporarily stunned by what a beautiful man waited before her. Was she underdressed? No, no time to worry now. It was too late anyway. The thought was pushed out of her mind as she approached. “Hi there! Any chance you’re waiting for someone? Someone named Candice?”

_____

He was going to be a dab hand at blind dates by the end of Matentines. Having gone on one or two which were either set up by others, or by his own hand scrawling his name into some sort of ornate pot — Church had gotten his pre-date routine down to a pat. He’d finish his set and immediately head for his rooms, only to sink into the claw foot bathtub, separated from the rest of his chambers by a thick draw curtain, sewn together from a myriad of patterned fabrics. His imps would sit on the edge of the tub, chirping and bickering amongst themselves, Candella, his Candyl always stayed a little further away. Unlike the other two, Liron and Cheri, who would in the end settle on the curve of his horns and stay there until he removed them.

Even when he got out, and set about slipping into an outfit, layers of fabric which still showed plenty of skin, cinched in at the waist and glittering head to foot in jewelry. Make up was always the last to be done, the smattering of eyeshadow and liner to make his already peculiar eyes pop. Then it was shuffling them onto the bed, with a bunch of promises of being back later, and slipping out into the night. 

To say he’d been surprised when Hops had informed him, with a well meaning, lopsided grin that he was the first of his duo to arrive. Time to kill wasn’t bad, just, different. So he orders a sinnamon whiskey and settles into his booth after making small talk and gossip for a couple of minutes. 

Time ticks, not unpleasantly, until a colourful individual catches his attention out of the corner of his eye. She’s pretty, he thinks. Neon bubblegum and vivacious shock value. Completely different from his own aesthetic, but wasn’t variety the spice of life? He finds it quite charming, if he’s honest. 

She asks if he’s looking for someone by Candice, and he stands. “I am, and I take it you’re looking for someone called Church?” He queries in good humor, gesturing for her to take a seat first. “Two C’s. Do you think the Fixers did it on purpose?” 

—

Candy brushes a lock of her hair away, shoulders bouncing once in an amused chuckle. “Oh, absolutely. It couldn’t have been a coincidence.” Readily accepting his invitation, she takes the seat across from him and sets her drink on the table in front of her. For as busy as the casino and Rabbit Hole could be, she greatly appreciates how they somehow manage to keep the tables pristine – the club tables, much as she loves the vivacious establishments – are always sticky from sloshing drinks.

Once seated, she takes another look at him. They really do look like opposites in terms of style, and she’s curious why the Fixers decided they’d be a good pair. Not that she’s complaining, but if she could be a fly on the wall during the marching process, she thinks she’d find it pretty fascinating. She’s glad, too. Meeting people she wouldn’t normally run into is always fun.

Her eyebrows pinch together for a fraction of a second as a thought occurs to her. “I didn't keep you waiting long, did I? When Hops said you were already here, I felt so bad!”

—

He chuckles himself at that, sitting himself back down once Candy has seated herself. “I’d pay to sit in and watch them decide who goes where, and with who. Maybe next year I’ll ask to sit in, and give everyone the goss.” Church murmurs, as if pitching something conspiratorial. The Rabbit Hole wasn’t quite his usual haunt, after a handful of bad blackjack hands, and a bad turn or three on the roulette, no amount of winning highs could stamp out the lows. He’d stuck to coming to sample the bar and chatting to Hops after that, catching up with the latest gossip and carefully teasing out helpful hints and tips to make his own at-home drinks better.

“Do you mind if I smoke?” He’d been beginning to pull out his cigarette holder and packet of cigarettes when Candy speaks next, and he pauses momentarily. “No, and even if you did, fashionably late is always an ironclad excuse. I once had someone expect me to wait four hours, and then got mad when they discovered I’d gone home and got into bed.”  

—

“If you get the gig, put in a good reference for me,” Candy replies jokingly with a cheeky grin, surprised and amused that they’d had the same line of thinking. To answer his question about the cigarettes, she simply waves her hand flippantly to invite him to continue on. Admittedly, she doesn’t care for the scent of tobacco, but it could never be worse than the sulfuric breath Dubs would get after eating the wrong combination from her pantry when she wasn’t looking.

Her eyes widen and jaw drops, leaning forward. “You’re lying!” She exclaims, not the literal accusation, but the expression to say ‘there is absolutely no way someone could do that.’ “You’re serious? Tell me you gave them a good telling-off! The audacity. At the very least, did you meet anyone there in the meantime?” Another thing in common that she’s too floored to notice is the clearly shared love of gossip they share. She’s dying to hear more to this story, sipping the Celestiale (which does a nice job of giving the floating star motes already floating around her some extra sheen) with curious eyes peering at him over the edge.

___

“You’ll be the first person I call. Seems only fair if we share the experience, right? We can make a duo of it.” He’s relieved, really, that she has a similar sense of humor to him. Just a little bit of mischief, and it’s a breath of fresh air from his other dates. Her dismissive wave is met by a grateful little tilt of his head, the ornaments there jingling softly, as he goes through the motions of placing his cigarette in it’s holder, and lighting up. Church does move the ashtray more to his side of things, and takes care to angle the cigarette away from the both of them when it’s not in his lips. Mindful of the fact that not everyone smoked, and basic, decent manners. 

She accuses him of lying, and he laughs. “I wish I was. It was a nightmare.” Lilting his voice with just a touch of theatrical exasperation, someone who suffered and continued to suffer by virtue of everyone else. “I had a lovely time with the bartender, eventually a group of gluttony buns came in and the rest was, well, history. I couldn’t stay out for too long, mind, as I had a performance in the afternoon. Being responsible is unfortunately part of the contract.” At that, he pauses to ash his cigarette. “Which leads us into the missing man of the hour. Called right as I’d gotten into bed, wondering where I was and how I could abandon him. Turned his ears red no doubt hearing exactly what I thought about the entire situation, and him. He turned up at the club, armful of roses and chocolates that evening. Trying to interrupt my set. I think Jack banned him.” Church hums and then grins. “You know I never cared to ask, the chocolates were delicious though.”  

He settles his odd coloured gaze on her with a thrilled, expectant look. “Now you, I’m dying to hear some of your stories. You must have as many.” 

—

Clearly, she’s floored hearing Church’s recount of the tale. Not only did some man keep him waiting for not one, not two, but four hours, then show up to his place of employment to beg for… Forgiveness? Another chance? Once her glass is on the table and not at risk of being dropped, she lightly slaps her palms flat to the table. “I just– I can’t–” She splutters in disbelief, shakes her head, then sighs. “Some people just have no… courtesy. No sense!” It’s all she can say, because the behavior of the man was so ludicrous, no other words would do.

But it all really comes together–not the mystery man’s behavior, but rather, the grace that comes with Church’s every movement. It’s explained once it’s revealed he is some sort of performer.

“Good riddance.” She offers a sympathetic smile and chuffs, tracing a pink-polished nail against the rim of her glass. Somewhere behind the pair, a woman screams with joy from a small-fortune win at the slots.

“Can’t say I have anything as bad as that,” she laughs, “But if you go to the raves often enough, you wouldn’t be surprised at the amount of people that can’t keep their paws to themselves. There was the time my foot slipped out from under me on the stairs… Hit each one on the way down and landed in the arms of a bouncer. I looked like a sloppy, drunk, damsel in distress. Made a great friend out of it, though.” She grins, cheeks pink from embarrassment as if she’s in the middle of the dance floor dazed and confused all over again. “Had to buy her a drink for carrying me through a super packed crowd to the bar and getting a glass of ice to hold against my hip.”

___

Candy’s reaction to his tale is every inch as entertaining as retelling it. He laughs, something breezy and light, as her palm connects with the table and sputters out what nonsense it all was. And it had been nonsense, from start to finish. “That’s the problem with those types.” He says wryly, clawed finger tip tapping more ash into the tray beside him before the thin black cigarette holder goes back between his lips. “The entitlement. They get a little too cozy with the idea that if they spend enough carats, they get an all access pass. No consequences. Just gains.”

“Definitely. And I most definitely opened a good bottle of wine to celebrate liberation.” He jokes, ears twitching at the shrill sound of a woman winning the jackpot, momentarily drawn to the sound before he turns back toward his date for the evening. Tilting his head a fraction to the side. “Would you like another drink?” 

When Candy starts to divulge her own story, Church props an elbow up on the dark polish of the table so he can rest his chin on the back of his hand. This wasn’t quite what he’d expected out of his date, but truthfully, he hadn’t really had any thoughts going in. His dating life was horribly shambolic at the best of times. Friends were worth their weight in gold, more than lovers were. 

Her admittance to being a frequent on the rave scene explains her outfit and choice of aesthetics. Bold and bright to fit in with the strobe lights and thumping bass. And, apparently, to attract bouncers-in-shining armour. Church grins at that. “I don’t know. I might’ve evaporated on the spot if I were in your shoes. But getting carried by a big strong bouncer certainly isn’t a bad way to spend an evening.”

—

She snorts softly, and nods in agreement with her date. “I’m surprised I didn’t.”

Then, Candy nods, eager to take the invitation to grab another drink. The Celestiale had been too delicious to hold her over the whole evening.

“That’s a great idea, Church. I like the way you think.” She isn’t so sure this is a love connection… But she is quite certain she wants to have Church as a friend. The conversation is great.

“Come on, my new friend. This one is on me.”

The rest of the evening is just as lovely.