simon_doctor | (no subject)

(no subject)

Bar Harbor Restaurant is built along the edge of a large lake in the Milian district. Seen from a distance, approaching by air, it's an elegant semicircular structure following the line of the shore; it does not look anything like big enough to seat as many people as an upscale restaurant should. This is due entirely to its unique outdoor seating arrangement.

Inside, it's all subdued lighting and polished wood and quiet music. Simon gives their names to the maître d', who with a practiced smile leads them to the seating deck where their table is ready. Once they're both seated there's a quiet whir of servos and a hum of a grav generator, and the little group of table and chairs begins to slide along the deck toward the restaurant's rear doors.

As it clears the door, the table begins to rise on a wide slow spiral to join the others: countless grav-field spheres hovering over the lake, glowing in subtle shades of amber and gold. Some are opaque, looking like Christmas-tree ornaments; some are completely transparent, looking like soap bubbles with tiny, gorgeously-dressed figures within. All of them are reflected on the surface of the lake, brilliant against the dark sky and water.

The overall effect is, not to put too fine a point on it, breathtaking.

Kaylee seems to appreciate the view a good deal more once Simon assures her that their own field is already set to opaque.

* * *

The waiter's station drifts off toward a different table, taking the empty entree plates and leaving the dessert menu. Their own table's gliding very low over the water now, and the golden glow of their reflection paces them.

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Dessert's going to be problematic.

Up until this point Kaylee has eaten only things that she can readily identify, that do not have sauce, that won't stain anything if she drops it, and that she knows how to eat.

Dessert makes this a lot more difficult.

She looks up at Simon. "What're you thinkin'?"

He's studying the menu, and glances up at her question. "I'm not sure yet."

There are a lot of choices.

"Leanin' toward anything in particular?"

Because she can 'share' it and then not eat more than a bite.

"They have a hazelnut creme brulee," he notes. "Or chocolate fondue, or -- the pignoli tart sounds interesting...."

Chocolate fondue would be a disaster.

"Tarts is nice," Kaylee says. Encouragingly.

They can always get chocolate fondue in less swanky surroundings, after all.

"How about you? Does anything catch your eye?"

Kaylee looks down at the menu. Looks up at Simon.

Says, a little sheepish, "So I guess I can let you in on the strategy tonight -- I didn't get nothin' that would spill much. Or stain. Or... anything. And..." She gestures at the menu. "Now it's a little harder."

Simon looks a little surprised for a moment, until the look melts into understanding (and a touch, just a touch, of rueful amusement).

"Well. Creme brulee isn't likely to spill or stain, if you want to try that? It's sort of a custard. Usually set firm."

"Firm's good." Kaylee eyes him. "But you get to eat it if it don't work out. Okay?"

"That's fair." He smiles. "I'll call the waiter back, then?"

"Shi a."

The nice thing about this place -- and something that put Kaylee immediately at ease -- is that no matter what, you can see out of your grav field. But if you dial up the opacity, nobody can see in.

Theirs is up all the way. Across the way, the bubble of a man in a suit and an extremely elegant woman, all brocade and piled hair and good posture, isn't up at all.

Says Kaylee: "I bet she never worried about a spill or not knowin' how to eat somethin' a day in her life."

Simon follows her gaze; his eyebrows go up a millimeter, and he smiles. "Well, she probably had to go through years of training for that."

"...are you sayin' what I think you're sayin'?"

"...I think so?"

He takes another look at the couple as their tables drift closer together, and start to spin away.

"I'm fairly sure she's a Companion."

"That's what I thought you was sayin'."

Even if nobody can see in, staring still feels rude, which is why Kaylee is at least trying to do it surreptitiously. "I never seen one... out and about like that before."

(Kaylee's been hanging out in the less upscale parts of town.)

"It's not uncommon," he says. "Especially at a place like this, where a lot of people are here in order to be seen."

Kaylee -- nervously -- checks the opacity control.

"Or not." Quiet.

The waiter shows up then; probably a good thing.

Simon orders dessert for both of them -- the creme brulee and the pignoli tart (with the caramel sauce on the side, please, he adds, in case Kaylee wants to try a bite). The waiter notes it down with his stylus, and refills their waterglasses with a smile, and drifts away again.

Their table's moved a little higher in the meantime, and the table with the Companion and her patron has spiraled off in the other direction.

Kaylee's eyes follow the other table. "You see 'em often? In places that ain't here?"

"It depends where you go, but ... I suppose so, yes."

Simon takes a sip of water.

"With some people, the entire point is to be seen. To be conspicuous, and ... I don't know, enjoy people looking at you in admiration. Or jealousy." His tone is one of mild perplexity, tinged slightly with distaste.

"...says the fella who will wear a silk waistcoat if given somethin' that even kind of resembles a chance if you squint." Wry. "And the other people?"

"...I don't wear a silk waistcoat to be admired," he says, sounding mildly stung. "I didn't contract a Companion to be admired, either."

"But it's pretty conspicuous, with all the shiny and the buttons and the different color -- "

" -- you what?"

Beat.

Two beats.

"What?"

Shock turns into clear speculation.

Speculation turns into something else:

A very sweet smile.

She looks off to the right. "Looks like we're about to have a waiter."