ArchivedLogs:Off The Record

Off The Record
Dramatis Personae Alison, Cage, Mel
In Absentia	2013-08-09 Working lunches are the best....
Location <NYC> Tavern on the Green - Central Park North
One of the most distinctive landmarks in the park, this restaurant has long served as the finish line for the New York City Marathon and is a necessary stop for tourists visiting the city. Any one of its several dining rooms is a choice experience, but its glass-enclosed Crystal Room comes with a view of the restaurant's Central Park gardens. In fine weather, the outdoor patio provides excellent people-watching, as well, right on the park. After getting to the office that morning and looking through her schedule, Alison made use of the card Cage gave her, and called him with an apologetic request to have lunch /today/, rather than next week, as promised. With the current temperature of the city and other political and celebrity topics to investigate, it turned out that today would be her last /free/ day for a good week or more. And Alison has never been one to disappoint someone; particularly if they might end up on the show someday. So now she is sitting in Tavern on the Green, dressed in an ivory Chanel suit with flat camel lapels, her hair is piled up on her head and secured with a couple of ivory chopsticks. She sits, waiting for Luke to appear, tapping idly at her phone screen with a well-manicured fingernail and ignoring the gawks of those closest to the table. The very fact that they stare identifies them as tourists, and like any New Yorker, she’s learned to ignore those. At a nearby table -- taking up an entire side -- sits Mel, dressed in a black suit and looking very business-like. This in spite of the animated young redheaded teenager sitting in front of him that is craning his neck around to look at everything. Occasionally, he holds up his hands like he’s framing an image, and closes one eye. Something Mel seems to tolerate until he’s the one being framed, and then he’s smacking those hands down with a deep furrow of his brow. Luke was glad to get Alison's call. Well 'glad' might be too strong a word for the moping detective, but his tone on the phone with her says anything to get him out of the office is appreciated at this point. Luke appears at the Tavern wearing an expensive looking suit with no tie. It's charcoal in color, with a lemon yellow dress shirt, and tailored so well, it might have been sewn right onto him. He slips his sunglasses into the breast pocket of his jacket, and scans the room. It's not hard to spot the stunning starlet, nor would one miss her body guard nearby. He offers a professional courtesy nod to Mel, possibly seasoned with a little sympathy for the man's situation, and pulls out a seat for himself at Alison's table. "Glad you called, Ms. Blaire. How ya doin?" When Cage appears, Mel coughs pointedly, and Alison looks up smoothly, her gaze landing on the tall man as he pulls out his chair. “Mister Cage,” she says, flashing a thousand-watt smile at him and rising slightly. “I’m so glad you could make it today. I apologize again for the short notice, but unfortunately, it’s a hazard of the job.” Re-settling herself, she slides her phone into her blazer pocket, and leans forward, placing her elbow lightly on the edge of the table. “I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to talk more last night,” she continues. “The music was very good. I’m thinking of getting DJ Spinster to do music for a show.” Her eyebrows lift, and the brightness of her smile ratchets up just a bit. “Perhaps on the show that you appear!” Pleased by the synergry of this, she picks up her menu, and scans the selections. “Would you like something to drink?” she murmurs, looking up through her lashes at Luke. “Some wine, or perhaps something stronger?” Another smile. “It’s on my station, so don’t be shy.” Luke settles into the seat with a hint of a friendly smile which makes a weak effort at defusing his foul mood. After all, it's not Alison's fault Cage had to fire his friend. "Well, I don't know a lot about wine, but I'll just have a glass of what you're having. Little early for me to start on the good stuff." He shrugs and continues, "Yeah, you know, your show's been… pretty friendly. To my people, I mean." Cage glances over his shoulder, probably feeling a little uncomfortable dropping the 'M' word in a place like this. For being 'new money', Cage has adapted quickly to moving in circles like these, but talking openly about Mutant Rights is a sure way to get the cold shoulder from staff. "But yeah, having Spinster on would be cool. I've been following her work, and I was thinking about bankrolling her album, so she doesn't have to sign with a big company." He shrugs. "But you know, if I come on the show, I'm gonna wanna fly the flag, and talk about marching for rights and stuff. I don't wanna put you in a tight spot. Is something like that gonna be ok for you?" Straight to business, and they haven't even ordered food yet. Alison smiles, and raises her chin slightly, which seems to signal their server, since a handsome young man with sandy hair comes over to the table. “We’ll just have two glasses of white wine,” she says, fluttering her eyelashes at the server before turning her attention to the detective. “My show is good to a lot of people,” she says with another bright smile, leaning forward and resting her chin on the back of her fingers. “The African-American community has been particularly receptive to my show, according to the suits.” Then she sits back, taking up her napkin and spreading it across her lap. “Mister Cage, have you ever watched my show?” she asks, then, looking up and tipping her head to one side. “I have never made any bones about the fact that I am pro-equality for peoples of all genders, sexualities, races, and species. It is the very anathema of the American ideal to think otherwise.” She lifts her eyebrows. “So, wave all the flags you want. You won’t find anyone waiting to censor you on /my/ show.” Perhaps expecting at least a little push-back on his question, Cage looks a little flummoxed, and takes a second to catch up. He attempts to hide his fluster by looking over the menu. He scans until the waiter returns with their wine glasses. When asked for orders, Cage is apparently old fashioned enough to make sure the waiter takes Alison's order first. Once she has done so, he orders a BLT sandwich for himself, hands over the menu, and leans back in his chair, contemplating the blond across the table. "I watched some episodes online last night, actually. But I've heard a lot about what a good influence you've been. It takes a lot of guts to take that kind of stance on TV. Especially… when some people would say they aren't even your people." Cage shrugs, and makes a hand gesture as if to say 'no offense meant'. Apparently /he/ wouldn't say such a thing. "Ultimately, the new struggle between your species and mine seems the same as what Dr. King marched for, and the suffragettes, and Harvey Milk, you know? Well yeah, I guess you get it." He actually chuckles softly, small cracks starting to show in his perpetual grump. Alison’s order might seem a bit cliche -- a Cobb salad, no dressing -- but that is what she orders, flashing a smile for the server before he disappears again. Delicate fingers lace together on the table, light dancing off the single ring on each hand. When Cage finishes speaking, she smiles, and unlaces her fingers to take up her glass and tilt it at the light. “Mister Cage,” she says, regarding the contents of her glass carefully. “If there’s one thing that you can be sure of about me, it’s that I could give a shit what people think about me or my politics.” She smiles, suddenly, sipping at her wine as she looks at Cage. “I know that seems an odd thing for a minor celebrity to say, but it’s true. Heck, my acting resume is testament to that.” Setting down her glass, she takes on a solemn sort of expression. “Until such time as I am removed from the air, I will continue to be an advocate for /all/ people, particularly those who struggle in today’s society.” Her lips curl, and there’s a small uptick of her eyebrows. “And with the Internet, not even cancellation would stop me.” There’s a bit of commotion from Mel’s table as Anton over-balances his chair, and Alison allows that to distract her long enough to frown at the pair. Mel’s expression darkens as he rights the teenager, and the redheaded boy pales a bit. “-- sorry, Ali,” he calls, rubbing his head. “I’m good!” Alison nods, and turns back to Luke with another, smaller smile. “And please stop saying ‘your people, my people’.” She says gently. “It’s those kind of lines that I’m trying to eliminate.” Fingers play around the base of her glass, and her smile slips a bit wistful. “We should be working to find common ground.” Cage nods, and his brown eyes sparkle at her vehement defense of her ability to speak out. It seems she's struck a chord with the Hero for Hire. "Well, it definitely sounds like we're on the same team." Cage offers. "I get what your saying. Separatist language only goes so far, but I /do/ think its healthy to celebrate the differences, and not try to pretend we're all the same." Cage takes a sip of the wine, and gives it a brief look as if maybe it just said something about his mother. But then he just takes another sip and sets it down. Apparently Cage didn't know that wine isn't really his thing. Oh well. Learning things is good for the soul. "It's just when people try to replace 'different' with 'better' or 'worse' - thats when we run into trouble. But that all just becomes semantics." Cage shrugs and waves off the comment. "But shit, I'm just glad to find a friendly face on TV. My first priority right now is to get a march organized. A, uh," Cage looks around briefly before lowering his voice, "A march for mutant rights. The city denied any kind if permit, but that's just grist for the mill at this point. That all sound like something we can discuss on the air?" “I think it more prudent, at this point, to focus on our commonalities rather than celebrate our differences,” Alison says. “Though I see your point, I think reminding people how extremely different some of us are won’t go very far in relieving any of the current tension in the city.” She smiles, and sits back in her chair. “We can absolutely discuss that on the air,” she says, her eyebrows lifting at the audacity of even the idea of such a gathering. “You understand that, as a journalist, I’ll have to contact the city for an official statement on the matter, and make an offer for someone from the mayor’s office to come and respond in person.” She flutters fingers in the air. “Somehow, I don’t think the latter’s going to be much of an issue.” She flashes a wide smile. “Like I said, I want to give you a forum to share your story, and get your message out there.” Then she leans forward, her smile a small curl of her lips as she reaches for her wine glass. “So, what is your message, Mister Cage, beyond mutant rights? What is Luke Cage’s ultimate goal with his life?” Luke sits back in his chair, rubbing at his jaw while he mulls over Alison's questions. A wide, predatory smile crosses his face at the idea of squaring off with a city official on air. "No, I don't think I'd have an issue with that. I love to hear why they won't grant a group of citizens a permit for peaceful assembly." His smile fades, and he rubs at his jaw as he considers the rest. "I have trouble looking at the long term, when so many people are being just openly held down right now. Mutant rights is my main thing." He pauses, and speaks slowly, thoughtfully, as he continues, "But as I think about it, I feel like that just fits into a bigger picture for me. I care about justice. I registered as a PI because a lot of people feel like they can't get justice in the regular ways. So I'm here to fill in the gaps." Alison smiles, sipping at her wine. “What you describe sounds very much like vigilantism,” she says smoothly. “And I’m afraid my station’s official stance on vigilantes is that we do not condone or promote such activity.” She looks a bit apologetic as she replaces her glass, and folds her fingers under her chin. “Or am I mistaken? Maybe you mean something else.” There’s a slow tip of her head to one side, and her eyes widen ever-so-slightly. “I do see where a man with a past history with the police would want to avoid coming across as someone who defies the law.” Luke waves his hand to dismiss the notion of vigilantism. "No no, I understand why it might look that way, but that's why I got a license. I'm just lucky I applied before all of this really blew up. I doubt they'd issue me one nowadays." He rubs at his jaw again, and then pauses to look up as the waiter arrives with their food. He waits for everything to be set out, preempts the waiter by putting his napkin in his own damn lap, and nods when the young man is far enough away. "The point is, my work is /legal/. People come to me with cases about how they've been treated unfairly by the system. So I investigate, and as best I can, provide evidence for them to take to trial. Cops just aren't doing the level of investigative work when a mutant is the defendant. It's the same stuff PI's have done for decades. And I don't even carry a gun." He smiles, shrugs, and takes a bite of his BLT. Chew, swallow, wash it down with more wine. "No Ms. Blaire, Heroes for Hire does not condone vigilantism in any form." “No, you wouldn’t have to carry a gun, would you?” Alison murmurs, squeezing a wedge of lemon over her salad before digging at it with her fork. “Still, for all your /legal/ activities, I’ve seen a few pieces in which you’re reported as allegedly behaving in a less.../licensed/ capacity.” She waves her fork playfully, bobbling lettuce like a tiny flag. “Where does Heroes for Hire stand on that, I wonder?” She smiles, and pops the forkful of salad into her mouth. “Officially, I mean.” Cage takes a breath, and smirks down at his sandwich a moment. Looking back up, he says “It’s true, I’ve been drawn into some murky situations. But some of that is honestly because of how the police wanna interpret ‘self defense’ these days.” Luke shrugs and takes a bite of his sandwich. “But no, Heroes for Hire don’t condone nothing illegal. Our doors are open to provide a safety net for people having trouble, and maybe slipped through the cracks already.” Alison wrinkles her nose at Cage’s comments, and smiles a bit. “Wow. Put that at the bottom of a TV screen, and I think you’d have a good commercial.” Her tone is slightly teasing when she says this, and she lowers her chin to regard the big man through her lashes. “Seriously, though. That’s a noble endeavor. Would you mind contacting some of your clients and see if they would be willing to talk to me or my producers?” She pokes her fork into the salad again, coming up with a couple of chunks of ham. “I think it’s important to see that you’re actually doing some good, and not just giving the cops a bunch of headaches.” Her expression darkens noticeably, for a moment. “Not that they haven’t earned a headache or two.” "That's no joke. After some of the shit I seen..." Cage stalls out, not willing to say more. He covers by taking another bite. "But I'll have to see what I can do to get you a client. I been out less than a year, so my client list is still pretty short." Cage chuffs a short laugh, as though he didn't really want to laugh, but whatever he just thought of forced that much out of him. "Or maybe I'll just have my mom come on your show and vouch for me. She seems to think I'm alright." Alison makes a small humming noise that carries no discernible inflection as she digs through her salad. “I assume you’re referring to the fight videos Tony Stark released a few weeks back,” she says, tipping her head and looking up at Cage fully. “Those were pretty horrifying, and if the police actually /were/ involved, it’s a stain they’ll never wash clean.” She doesn’t offer anything else, either, and the curl of her lips is tight enough to convey her displeasure. As is the vicious way she stabs into her salad. After a moment, she regains her composure, offering a birght smile and a tinkling laugh that sounds genuine. “Oh, gosh. I make it a policy to /never/ get an interview with someone’s mother. That sort of thing is suspect from the beginning.” She lifts her eyebrows. “I mean, unless the relationship is just a complete waste, what mother is going to go on television and say the absolute truth about their son?” She shakes her head. “No. Although I’m certain your mother must be an amazing woman, I would rather speak to people who’ve benefitted from your business and your...extracurriculars.” She spears a wedge of tomato, taking up her knife to delicately cut it in half. “I would also be interested in speaking to your employees, if you have any. Getting their reaction to you as a boss, and how they feel about the path you’ve chosen. Would that be possible?” “Actually,” Cage begins, hesitant. “Our staffing situation is... tricky right now. I’ll have to get back to you on that. But I can tell you myself, I’m a terrible boss.” Luke tries to laugh, and make it sound like an ironic poke at himself, but it really comes off more dark then he would have meant. He clears his throat, starts to say something, and takes a bite of his sandwich instead. “I’m sorry, but I’m glad we’re getting these pre-questions out now. Helps me prep. Oh shit - we’re ‘off the record’ here, right?” Alison’s expression turns shrewd when Cage says the magic word, and she leans forward, ignoring her salad. “Tricky?” she echoes, slender eyebrows climbing a bit. “Tricky, how? And how are you a terrible boss?” It’s pure journalistic curiosity in her expression, even to the way she pushes her hair behind one ear, her earring flashing in the low light of the restaurant. Cage’s question and mild alarm get a laugh from the blonde, and she shakes her head. “Oh, no. This isn’t officially ‘on the record’, although Mel /is/ transcribing this conversation.” She glances over her shoulder at the big man, who nods in affirmation. Anton remains oblivious to this interchange, continuing to crane his head around to stare at the other patrons. She smiles. “The pre-interview is usually the hardest,” she says. “But this isn’t really a /pre/-interview. My producers will handle that.” She waggles her fingers. “This is merely me talking to you and seeing what angle to take when presenting your story.” Cage clams up for a solid half-minute. He licks his lips, looks at Mel for a second, and then back to Alison. The earnest Luke Cage is visibly rewinding his memory of the conversation, and is struggling to reproduce it all. This quickly grinds to a halt and turns into a ‘How do I always get myself in these situations’ look on his face. Which is quite expressive. Let’s all agree it’s a good thing Cage doesn’t play poker. “Look, you can’t use any of that stuff about my employees. ‘Heroes’ is in flux right now, and I don’t want anybody to find out about their job status on Alison Blaire’s blog or whatever. You seem like a nice lady - you can appreciate that, can’t you?” “Mister Cage,” Alison says, her expression softening just a touch. “I can assure you that no one will hear anything said in this meeting. Those notes are merely for my referral later.” “Ok, great. Yeah.” Cage takes a deep breath, and looks at the other half of his BLT on the plate in front of him. Slowly, Luke pushes his chair back from the table, but doesn’t get up yet. “Ms. Blaire, I appreciate your time here. I’d still like to come on your show, and get Mutant Rights the publicity it deserves. I just...” Luke hangs onto to the arms of his chair like it might disappear from beneath him. A creaking complaint from the frame of the chair remind him to let go before he damages anything. “But I should get going. I’m sorry.” He stands and extends his hand. He seems more than a little out of sorts. Alison looks startled when Cage pushes back from the table, and she frowns. She takes the napkin from her lap and sets it on the table beside her plate as she rises smoothly. “Mister Cage,” she says gently. “I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. I just want to make sure that I tell your story in the best way I can.” She smiles wanly. “Something tells me you could use more people in your corner.” Sympathy rises in her eyes, and she lowers her chin just a bit. “I can send Mel and Anton back to the office, if that’s what’s bothering you,” she offers. “And we can just enjoy a nice lunch. As potential friends.” Cage takes another deep breath. “I- ” For a moment, it looks like he’ll refuse, but then he sinks back down into his chair. “If it ain’t a hassle, I’d really appreciate it. Hate to see you without a bodyguard, but I could see you home, if it helps?” Luke shrugs in Mel’s direction, not wanting to offend the fellow-professional. He’s more asking /Mel’s/ permission than Alison’s. Alison flashes a wide, relieved smile when Cage sits down, and shakes her head. “It’s absolutely not a hassle, Mister Cage,” she says earnestly, and turns to the other table, where Mel is already standing, and moving to grab Anton by the collar. “C’mon, kid. We got promos to look over,” he grunts, and gives Cage a long look before he nods, and moves through the tables, hauling the redheaded teenager along. Anton grins, and waves a hand at the still-occupied table as he’s dragged out. “Bye, Ali! See you later! Bye, detective dude!” Alison smiles, and flutters fingers after the pair, waiting until the other patrons have returned to their meals before she, too, sits down. Reclaiming her napkin, she offers another smile, and scrunches her nose. “Aren’t they the best?” she asks, taking up her fork again. “Anton is the sweetest kid, and Mel...well, I’d be lost without him, to be honest.” “So, now that we’re off the record for real,” she says, tipping her head. “Why don’t you tell me about /your/ employees, and the flux you’re in?” She smiles. “As a friend, and fellow boss-type.” “I- Well, you can call me Luke, ok? ‘Mr. Cage’ is some guy I never met, you know?” He offers a weak smile, and watches Alison’s employees exit. Then he turns his head and stares out the window for a long moment. “It’s just... “ Luke sighs and runs a hand over his bald head. “It’s too dangerous for me to have people workin for me. I already found out the hard way that having a friend for an employee is a recipe for disaster. Lost both in one shitty day. The rest - with the tone of the city right now, I can’t be responsible for these people. I’m a lightning rod, and I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.” The words tumble out of the big man, like he hasn’t had a real conversation with someone in weeks. “I can’t protect them, but they’ll get targeted just for working for me. I got no fu- Uh, sorry. I got no business being anyone’s boss. That’s all.” “Luke,” Alison echoes, and nods. “And you can call me Alison. Or Ali. Whichever you prefer.” She listens, her attention flicking between her salad and Cage as he speaks. When he finishes, she’s quiet for a long time. “I don’t know that it’s true that you can’t be friends with your employees,” she says. “My guys are my crew, but they’re also my family, and people I couldn’t imagine not being in my life.” She offers a sympathetic pull of her mouth. “I admit that /would/ make it hard to let them go, if I had to. But I wouldn’t let go of them, y’know?” “But you hire adults, don’t you? People capable of weighing the risk of working for you?” She smiles, the corners of her mouth tightening. “It would be different if you only had high school kids or the mentally challenged working for you. These are adults, with adult reasoning and adult responsibilities.” Her slender brows knit, lightly. “Did you ask them how they felt about your being a lightning rod for unwanted attention?” Cage is openly conflicted, every emotion playing across his face. Cage tries several conversation starters and finally has to sit back and think about Alison’s question. He looks up at the ceiling, and then back down. “I never thought to ask.” It looks like there are several other ideas rolling around in his head, but he hasn’t formed them up into words yet. He just reaches for his water glass, sips from it, and keeps it in his hand. Alison’s own expression is not unsympathetic, and she leans forward to latch slender fingers around Cage’s wrist. “Luke...” she begins, and presses her mouth into a line briefly before she continues. “It’s very hard, being a public figure, and having these people you care about attached to you. Whether it’s family, or employees, or even just friends. Many times, we make these decisions, thinking we’re protecting them, and instead, all we’re really doing is treating those we love like children.” She squeezes her fingers lightly, and withdraws her hand. “But it’s important to remember that -- especially in the case of employees; maybe not so much family -- these people have /chosen/ to be in your life. Those who don’t wish to be a part of it will amaze you with their ability to avoid you.” The pull of her mouth speaks to personal experience, but she covers it with a sip of wine. “I know your heart’s in the right place,” she offers when she sets the glass back down. “But I think you’ve underestimated your people, a bit.” She grimaces. “In my opinion, that is. Based on what I’ve heard so far.” Luke has trouble holding Alison’s eye contact while she explains. Instead, his gaze drifts to her hand on his wrist, just looking, and listening. When she takes her hand away, he looks up at her briefly, and then out the window, but he leaves his hand on the table. The other hand is against his forehead, thumb and middle finger rubbing at his temples. He sits back, crossing ankle over knee. “Wow...” Luke says. His tone is almost as if he’s seriously pissed off, maybe even at Alison. There’s a long, awkward beat, but what comes out is, “I’ve really been a self-righteous asshole...” He holds up a hand, “No no, I’m not fishing for pity. I actually... I think I fuckin /get/ it. Oh shit, sorry. I mean-” Luke sighs. “I cuss a lot. You’re probably gonna have to bleep me on your show. Sorry.” He shrugs, and gets back on topic. “I mean, why isn’t this something I would just /know/? As a human being. I fuckin lucked out, meeting you, Alison.” Cage’s earnestness is returned, but it seems the filter on his language monitor has completely burnt out from over-effort. Cussing actually seems to have relieved some of the man’s tension. Never mind the glances from genteel diners at other tables. There’s a momentary flash of concern on Alison’s face as she watches Luke’s reaction, and she becomes very, very still until he speaks again. Then her lips curl at the corners, and she shakes her head. “I don’t think self-righteous is exactly the right term,” she says with a small chuckle. “I think you’re one of those men who care to the point of letting it get in the way.” She lifts a shoulder. “Personally, I find that level of commitment charming, even if I don’t agree with the results.” She giggles when he suddenly can’t seem to stop cursing, covering her mouth with her fingertips. “Oh, gosh. You wouldn’t be the first one,” she assures him. “I had rival gang members on one show, and you couldn’t hear anything for all the bleeps. I, myself, don’t mind cursing. One of my good friends swears like you wouldn’t believe.” His compliment gets a different sort of smile. “That’s not the first time I’ve heard that, either,” she notes lightly, dropping her eyelids to peer at the big man through her lashes. “But thank you. I feel like I’ve gained some luck, as well, in meeting you.” Cage allows the quiet moment to linger, and then nods to himself. “I need to have some difficult conversations, but I think you saved some jobs today.” Luke holds her eye contact for a moment, his brown eyes shining in the afternoon light, and then he leans forward slightly. His sandwich is essentially forgotten at this point. “What do you say you let me thank you properly? The Mets are playing the Dodgers next week - Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday. We’re gonna get our asses handed to us, but I have box seats, and it’s still fun to go to a game.” Luke thinks for a second and adds, “Uh, well, unless you don’t like baseball.” He actually looks a little embarrassed at having gotten this far in essentially asking Alison out on a date, without actually confirming if it’s something she’d enjoy. But he just shrugs and smiles. No going back now! “Well, then, this has been a good lunch,” Alison says with a smile when Cage reconsiders. “If I helped, I’m happy to have been here for them.” The date request catches her a bit off-guard, and she pinkens -- as does the air immediately around her, for a brief moment. “Oh, I love baseball,” she says, lowering her lashes. “My dad was a big Mets fan, and we went to games all the time.” She leans forward, then, mirroring Luke’s posture with a bit more litheness. “But even if I didn’t, I would still go, I think. I’ll have Mel clear Wednesday for me.” “Great, I’ll pick you up around-” Luke’s eyes go wide when the air around Alison brightens. He leans even closer and lowers his voice to a breathy whisper, “Hey, did you just...” He waggles the fingers of his hand which is still flat on the table, and flicks his eyes to the air around her head. He’s being absolutely as subtle as possible, but Alison definitely has his undivided attention, which can actually be kind of intense, up close and personal with the big man. Alison’s smile is a sly one as she takes up her fork again. “Now, now, Mister Cage,” she says. “You don’t want to learn all my secrets before our date, do you?” She looks up, and her eyes crinkle in amusement before she nods at Luke’s abandoned plate. “You should eat,” she notes idly, cutting her eyes up to catch Luke’s gaze. “And we should totally have dessert. They have this pie here that’s /really/ good.” No amount of curiosity brings her back to the side-stepped topic, no matter how adorably Luke thinks he might ask. She does, however, manage light and lively conversation on any number of other topics through the rest of the meal, making for a pleasant time, after all. And she’s right. The pie /is/ really good.