[He nearly chokes on a piece of lamb when Jeff says the word 'cute'. His eyes go large and wide, brow shooting up, and he has to fight just to swallow the meat down.
As soon as he's won that battle, he sits up and back, looking at Jeff with a disbelief that borders on suspicion.]
No. I can't say anyone has. That's-
[Cam wants to say absurd, but he can't. His face is too red already. Heat rising up from his throat and into his cheeks.
He takes another long drink of wine. Jeff Callhoun may be the first man to leave Cameron Waltz speechless.]
[ That's more of a reaction than Jeff would've expected, though he supposes it shouldn't be too surprising, considering the image Cam seems to present to the world. But, considering how different he is here, on this surprise date... Come on, Jeff can't possibly be the first guy to say it!
Knowing this, though, leaves him feeling a little more confident, sure of himself, than he usually is on a date. So he takes another drink of wine, smirking around the lip of the glass, before he sets it back down. ]
That's a shame.
[ AND SO DINNER CONTINUED, AND THEN THEY HEADED BACK TO THE THEATRE FOR HAMILTON. IT WAS EVERYTHING JEFF HEARD IT WAS. HE DUG IT, EVEN IF HE FOUND SOME OF THE FLOW TO BE A TIIIINY BIT STILTED, BUT WHAT DOES HE KNOW, HE'S A MIDDLE AGED WHITE DUDE.
Anyway.
Cut to: the walk back to the cars. Well, car. Cam's car. After the usual idle chatter about the show is over with, there's a companionable silence, which he breaks with: ]
Can I let you in on a secret? [ A BEAT. ] I never gave much of a shit about the Founding Fathers before.
[Dinner was delicious. Hamilton was... Hamilton. Cam was more interested in watching Jeff watch the musical than watching the musical itself.
It's a quiet, comfortable ten minute walk back to the car, and Cam can't help but wish it was longer. The night air is perfect. There's a slight breeze. Just enough to rustle coats and move leaves. He and Jeff share almost the same stride, which is something he likes. Someone who can keep up with him.
Cam's just a little faster. He can't help himself.]
I'm appalled. Can I let you in on a secret?
[A pause, glancing over to Jeff from over the collar of his Burberry trench.]
JJ told me you wanted to see Hamilton. That's why I bought the tickets. Theatre isn't really my forte.
To tell you the truth, American history doesn't interest me in the slightest. I'd rather learn about anywhere but here. That's why I like to travel. I always appreciate this country more when I'm somewhere else, and remember just how good we have it.
[Speaking of the first world, they're coming up on Cam's car, which he paid top dollar to park only a couple blocks away from the theatre. It's a black Porsche Mission E, new as of last year. The model isn't available for public sale yet. Cam was on a list.
He pulls his keys from his pocket, hitting the start button. The Porsche comes alive with a soft purr, the lights turning on and doors unlocking to reveal the cognac leather classic interior. Custom.]
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text | phone call | action | prose | etc
no subject
As soon as he's won that battle, he sits up and back, looking at Jeff with a disbelief that borders on suspicion.]
No. I can't say anyone has. That's-
[Cam wants to say absurd, but he can't. His face is too red already. Heat rising up from his throat and into his cheeks.
He takes another long drink of wine. Jeff Callhoun may be the first man to leave Cameron Waltz speechless.]
no subject
Knowing this, though, leaves him feeling a little more confident, sure of himself, than he usually is on a date. So he takes another drink of wine, smirking around the lip of the glass, before he sets it back down. ]
That's a shame.
[ AND SO DINNER CONTINUED, AND THEN THEY HEADED BACK TO THE THEATRE FOR HAMILTON. IT WAS EVERYTHING JEFF HEARD IT WAS. HE DUG IT, EVEN IF HE FOUND SOME OF THE FLOW TO BE A TIIIINY BIT STILTED, BUT WHAT DOES HE KNOW, HE'S A MIDDLE AGED WHITE DUDE.
Anyway.
Cut to: the walk back to the cars. Well, car. Cam's car. After the usual idle chatter about the show is over with, there's a companionable silence, which he breaks with: ]
Can I let you in on a secret? [ A BEAT. ] I never gave much of a shit about the Founding Fathers before.
[ BAD TEACHER. BAD. ]
no subject
It's a quiet, comfortable ten minute walk back to the car, and Cam can't help but wish it was longer. The night air is perfect. There's a slight breeze. Just enough to rustle coats and move leaves. He and Jeff share almost the same stride, which is something he likes. Someone who can keep up with him.
Cam's just a little faster. He can't help himself.]
I'm appalled. Can I let you in on a secret?
[A pause, glancing over to Jeff from over the collar of his Burberry trench.]
JJ told me you wanted to see Hamilton. That's why I bought the tickets. Theatre isn't really my forte.
To tell you the truth, American history doesn't interest me in the slightest. I'd rather learn about anywhere but here. That's why I like to travel. I always appreciate this country more when I'm somewhere else, and remember just how good we have it.
[Speaking of the first world, they're coming up on Cam's car, which he paid top dollar to park only a couple blocks away from the theatre. It's a black Porsche Mission E, new as of last year. The model isn't available for public sale yet. Cam was on a list.
He pulls his keys from his pocket, hitting the start button. The Porsche comes alive with a soft purr, the lights turning on and doors unlocking to reveal the cognac leather classic interior. Custom.]
Where are you parked?