Jayme Sat at a table in the back corner waiting. He was reading the newspaper. He had gotten here at exactly twelve-thirty, he wanted to be certain he wasn't late. It would never do to keep a lady waiting and he knew it. He was wearing a pair of soft brushed chinos in a putty color and a bably blue pull over sweater that he liked and knew he looked good in.

He hadn't ordered yet, and had no plans of doing so until Amanda showed up. The manager seemed annoyed with this, but it wasn't a crime to be waiting for someone. In the mean time Jayme sat reading the sports section.

The closer the time drew to the date, the more nervous Amanda became.

In the end, she redid her makeup three times, changed her outfit five times, and fussed over Teddy until he went into a sulk.

She dropped him at the museum with a sigh of relief and drove to the Bean, arriving with a few minutes to spare according to her watch.

She breathed a sign of relief until she saw that by the Bean's clock, she was five minutes late.

Well, at least it was fashionable?

Thoroughly annoyed with herself, Amanda sought out Jayme's table, plopping herself down into the seat with a tired, self-depricating grin. "Can I blame my late arrival on traffic?" There had been traffic. It had not been fun.

Amanda is wearing a white blouse, matching blue necklace and earrings and a tad of makeup. She's also rather out of breath.

She stowed her purse under her chair with a bit of a sigh of relief.

He folded the newspaper and laid it in an unoccupied chair. "You were late, now it would never do for me to point that out, if you were." He said with a smile in that sultry southern accent of his. "How are you?"

He was glad she had shown up, he'd been a little nervous until she had. He would not have abandoned hope completely until one-thirty.

The manager seemed to have nothing better to do than glower at Jayme and tap his foot impatiently, as if to say, you're through waiting now order something.

"Tired, flustered and in dire need of good coffee."

She flashed the manager a smile and had in short order ordered something ridiculously decadent.

She was here to enjoy herself.

Also, she planned on splitting the bill, so there were no worries about cost today. Today was a day for fun and relaxation.

"What're you having, Jayme?"

She was almost certain she'd gotten his name right.

Her memory, well, it wasn't what it was.

Not that she was great with names before, but it sometimes got ridiculous, these days.

what is he having? Perhaps the past half hour would have been spent studying the menu and not the sports page.

After a few minutes he decided on a cappucino and brownie. He hadn't had anything sweet in a while.

As for splitting the bill, he may well be mortified to learn it is her intention. EH orders his selections.

As for remembering names, Jayme wrote her name down in his little note book the other day when he'd left her shop. He has a terrible memory most of the time.

Ahaha.

The boy has a little black book?

Priceless.

This tidbit would completely confirm Amanda's personal hypothesis that he's a bit of a flirt.

"I love the brownies here." She isn't having one, because she likes her figure fine the way it is, thanks. She had one here a couple weeks ago.

I would hardly call his notebook a little blackbook. It's his memory, quite litterally, his attention disorder is so much worse than he lets on, he has to write himself all sorts of little reminder notes.

Though it's true, he is a bit of flirt, how dull would life be otherwise?

"I don't eat sweets very often, but it sounded good." he admitted with a slightly mischeivious smile.

Amanda chuckled. "Sweets for the sweet?"

She likes old cliches.

"Do you come here often?" Oh, it's a pickup line, but not really in this context, yes? She's making the small talk for to learn about him. She figures he's interesting enough to have as a friend (at the very least).

Her cliche gets a smile and soft chuckle. Why wouldn't it, it is sort of flattering.

"Sometimes on lunch. Perhaps every other week." He says. He breaks the brownie up inot bite sized bits with a plastic fork. "I don't think I could come here too often. I try to limit myself to one serving of caffiene a day, though sometimes I over indulge and have two." He admits.

"I cannot live without coffee. It is my favorite vice." Amanda has a dramatic flair, now and again.

Amanda sips her coffee and melts into a puddle on the floor, or wants to. "Mmmmm. You must try this someday." It's coffee and chocolate and a number of exotic things and it is very, very good.

In Amanda's humble opinion.

"There are wores vices. I myself prefer a good steak." he says. He smiles at her dramatic emphasis on coffee.

"Perhaps I shall try one the next time I come. It certainly smells good. " He drawls.

He eats a few bites of his brownie and sips at his cappucinno. "So if you love coffee, do you visti here often?" he asks cordially.

"Not often enough." Life's hectic, y'know? You never quite finish everything you want to finish.

"I buy coffee beans here, though, if I can help it." She buys beans and grinds them at home. It works for everyone.

"So, since we're discussing interests, what do you do at your day job? You've already met mine."

Yes, she refered to her day job as a person.

She's a lil' bit quirky.

"Don't die when I tell you, please." He says blushing ever so slightly. He does smile though. "I think I'm your competition, the largish brick flower shop on Main street, is mine." he says a bit sheepishly.

She blinked. "I thought that was owned by... oh, I can't remember her name...."

Amanda is confused.

"Jenny Hartwell, yes, she died not long after I married her. It's been almost six years." He said much more quietly then he has been speaking.

Oh.

Oh.

"I'm sorry... I had no idea." She patted his hand maternally, because that was what she did. Habit, instinct, way of dealing with the world.

Amanda's been running her flower shop six years? ...she lost track of time. It might be ten, because she only really started getting proactive when Teddy was born, and...

time flies.

When in doubt? Sip spiffy choco-coffee drink and look thoughtful.

"It's alright, I knew it would happen when I married her. Still took me some time to set myself to rights afterwards. You needn't be sorry though. We manged to do her whole list before she died and so for that I'm very glad I had her while I did." He says.

Have I mentioned that he can be a hopeless romantic? well he can.

He finishes his brownie and sips his own beverage.

Huh.

Nothing kills light-hearted romance like finding out the other has a tragic past.

Amanda feels quite awkward now.

"You about ready to leave?" Change of subject.

They can pay the bill and go for a walk, perhaps. Coffee doesn't last long enough. It feels as if they've only been here a few minutes....

"If, you're ready, it seems like we just got here though." He says sheepishly and swallows the last of his capucinno.

He's thinking, Oh no! I've gone and bungled it by talking too much.

So of coarse he feels very awkward now as well.

Honestly, 'bungling it' doesn't mean much.

She still likes him well enough. But....

Maybe less dating-in-line-with-later-seriousness and more dating-for-fun or just going-out-with-a-friend.

"Split the bill?"

His eyes widen in a sort of mortified way. "No, I really shouldn't let you, it isn't at all right." He says quietly. He can't help it, he's old fashioned, not a chauvanist, just old fashioned. A woman ought to keep her money when she can, and treat herself with it. Jayme would have a hard time realizing that's exactly what she's doing.

Amanda chuckled again. "It wouldn't be right for me to leave you with that bill, dearie. I was the one ordering the chocolate god of delights."

The chocolate-coffee-extravagance drink was a tad expensive.

Just a tad.

It was sweet of him to offer to pay, though. Very sweet.

His eyes are about the size of tea saucers, he still looks scandalized but he nods his head. It isn't even a matter of pride, it's like a breach of ettiquette to him. Still he goes along withit so he won't seem like a jerk.

She pats his hand again, and offers a compromise "Next time we go out, I'll order something less ridiculously decadent and you get to treat, okay?"

She's treating him, a bit, as she might treat one of her kids.

This is, mostly, because her kids and her customers are the limits of her social circle (aside from a few ladies in her sewing / reading / witchery group).

And did you notice that she's offering to go out with him again? He must have done something right.

Oh yes next time she'll allow it, good thing Jayme hasn't caught on that he should feel like a child. "Okay." he says, sounding not quite as wounded.

He pays his portion at the counter. "Where to now?" he asks.

"Wander up Elm to the park?" They could windowshop.

Well.

She could windowshop.

(A tad selfish? Maybe. She isn't a saint.)

As yet another side note, everything is paid, and it's time to head out the door.

"I suppose so, it is close by." He acknowledges.

He does hold the door opened for her. Once they are walking he is sure to walk on the outerside of the walk way while hs escorts her.

Aww, such a gentleman. It was sweet. Old-fashioned, but sweet. Not that Amanda minds old-fashioned.

"So what do you do with your time besides florist work?" Everyone has hobbies, right?

"A little bit of everything, I fix things, go jogging, read, go to the gym, sometimes I just drive around. Or I swim in my pool." he answers. Jayme can actually be a bit boring. Then again, he won't come out and say "I practice alchemy" in broad daylight out in the middle of a some what busy side walk.

"How about you, What do you like to do?" He asks.

"I paint." Everything and anything. "And most days I'll go to the park for a morning stroll."

And other things, but she doesn't want to interrupt the flow of conversation with a monologue.

"What do you like to read? I prefer mysteries for everyday fare." Since he mentioned reading.

"Anything that won't read me first, I tend to jump around a lot, read bit here and a bit there. I can't just read a book through all at once, never could really." he says.

"What sort of painting do you do, tole paining, decorative, of simply brightening things up to revitalize them?" He asks her.

She grinned at him. "I just like painting. I do flower paintings... not that they're any good...."

...they're amazing, for the record. She has self esteem issues about art.

The father of her kids was a tad....

Nasty.

"I doubt they're that aweful. I have a friend that paints, gives lessons in her gallery. She's on a sort of sabatical right now. When she comes back though, you might think about looking into her lessons. She's been after me to go for years, but I always have maintained the most exciting thing I could paint is a wall.....But still if you decided to go I'd go too." he offers.

Afterall something like that is never fun to do alone.

"Gads, no. I'd never find the time."

Which is somewhat accurate and somewhat shyness.

Ah well. Some things aren't meant to be, right?

"Anyway... sorry.. I just don't have a high opinion of my painting, you see. Amateur. Can we talk about something else?"

Amanda has Le Issues about painting.

Nevermind, mmk?

"Okay, what do you want to talk about?" He asks, Great, I've bungled again. He tells himself. One thing he knows for sure, she doesn't want to talk about football. "What sort of music do you like?" He asks.

"Music, music... you know, I don't think I've listened to music in months. You'll have to let me listen to some of yours. What do you prefer?"

Amanda's a bit of a shut-in, isn't she?

"Again a little of everything, my attention wanders a lot. Though I really like a lot of older music, like Eric Clapton, Rush, CCR, Janis Joplin, The Doors....." He trails off not wanting ot bable on into infinitum about it.

"Hm." Noncommital. She doesn't know whether his music choices are good or not, and probably won't know until she hears them.

"What about books and movies?"

April likes mysteries and horror movies.

She's a strange lady.

"Well most of my books are about....." very quietly,....."alchemy." he says. Movies, he won't admist he rarely watches them. It's too long for the poor man to sit still most of the time, he falls asleep halfway through without soomething else to do. " I don't have a favorite sort of movie, or anything, guess I'm sort of boring." he tells her apologetically.

"I'll introduce you to movies if you introduce me to music. Deal?"

Sounds fair to her. Sounds fun to her. "Alchemy, as in.. lead to gold, and so on?"

Being innish is rather like knowing that quantum mechanics exist - just because it exist doesn't mean you have any idea how most of it works, aside from pop culture.