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Let's Do the Walk of Shame (Deceitful_Lies)

DontxBlinkk

Supernova
Joined
Oct 18, 2009
Location
Canada
This wasn't the first morning Phoebe Rowe's came clacking into the apartment complex. Her high rise building typically wasn't home to women who looked like Phoebe did, but with her job, she could afford every single thing in her apartment, plus some. Stripping wasn't a cheap job, certainly not where the red head worked. The upscale club was full of rich men, ready to pay whatever the price for just as small of a thing as a seductive strip tease. The men's wives had fallen down the scale, according to them, and a young, new woman was just what they wanted. Phoebe, along with each and every other woman in the club, were more than eager to take their money.

Phoebe approached the elevator, pressing the button with her salon styled, ruby red nails and took a step back, popping out her hip. Her crimson heels slid across the tile, clacking with her move, refusing to hide the shame Phoebe felt. Each morning, she attempted to avoid the other tenants of the building, just so she could return to her room in peace. Her short dress barely covered her upper thighs and down right refused to peak out from under her black pea-coat. Both articles of clothing exposed her long, pale legs to the cold air in the lobby, forcing goosebumps over her entire body. Her fire red hair was still held in the style she had placed it in the night before; curled with rollers and held with gel, spray and the ever faithful bobby pins. As much as she tried, her make up simply wasn't wiping from her face and at some point in the cab, Phoebe simply gave up.

Every dollar Phoebe had pumped into her culinary training was going down the drain. She could only cook for herself, or whatever lucky date she could find, but she was doing nothing with the degree she had worked so hard to earn. The look on her face was unpleased as the door to the elevator cracked open, exposing a small child. She forced her eyes to drop away from the mother beside him. No doubt they were heading out to school and Phoebe wasn't about to get in their way. There was a soft mumble from the woman, who was clearly scanning Phoebe's clothing. Before another word was spoken or she could comment back, the stripper slipped inside the movable box and pressed the doors closed, nearly jamming her finger into the glowing button before she bothered to lean against the wall and wait for it to open on the tenth floor. She could only hope that would be the only other run in with a tenant this morning.
 
"No it's okay...yeah...That's alright, Barnaby. It's not like this is the first time you've stood me up, I'm use to it by now...alright, thanks; tell Nora I said I'll be coming over for Thanksgiving." With that said the once white, now paint splattered phone, settling back into the receiver. Blythe Emarz lightly sighed as she rolled over on her bed, she stared up at the ceiling. The glow in the dark stars stuck up there almost seemed to blend into the whiteness of the roof, they only looked pretty at night. With a soft sigh and a quick jerk up, Blythe sat up and stretched, the feeling of annoyance and stress making her body ache. Once again her brother had left her in change of his restaurant while he went off with his wife to only god knows where, she grabbed her small notebook and jot down his phone number. "Fifth number change in a month..." She muttered, the tomboy stood up and popped her back. If someone said being in charge of a restaurant was hard, they were right. Now try being in charge of it as well as being the only pâtissière there, on a full weekend night; Blythe didn't have it easy.

The brunette softly laughed to herself as she walked around, she wasn't all that tall; being an average 5'5" without any shoes on. Blythe quickly started fixing her apartment up, last night she got home late and ended up passing out on the couch while watching old cartoons as well as eating ice cream. Blythe picked the empty container and spoon off the ground before turning the TV off, it got lonely from time to time living alone in the apartment. Blythe's older brother Barnaby moved out after getting married, but still visit from time to time, only now he hadn't come around for about three months.

Blythe sighed as she finished up, glancing back at the clock she realized, she had to head out before she was late.
The brunette's silvery-green eyes closed as she sighed, quickly heading to her room, she started getting her clothes out. "I hope today it goes well, that stupid food critique is coming today, stupid Barnaby." She muttered to herself, the angry mutters were nothing real, she loved her brother too much. Blythe quickly pulled off her T-shirt, lucky for her, last night she hadn't had time to change out of her work clothes. So she just ended up removing her pants and bra before falling asleep on the couch, she liked sleeping like that, she called it her instant PJs.

As she stripped down, anyone could see Blythe wasn't one of the prettiest girls in the world. She was slender with narrow hips and a small chest, she had more of a boyish look to her. Add her short dark brown hair and sun kissed skin, it wasn't hard for someone to think she wasn't female. Yet Blythe didn't care, long hair got in the way, and her old job was a lifeguard so she got pretty tan from it. She pulled on a black long sleeve T-shirt and tugged a purple hoodie over it, her faded jeans came on quickly after that followed by her converse. Blythe ran her finger through her hair as she grabbed her messenger bag stuff with her things, she made sure she wasn't missing anything as she ran to the door. "Bye, Sushi, don't eat the couch!" Blythe yelled back at her Japanese bobtail cat as she ran out the door and locked it. Blythe let out a breath of relief as she got to the elevator doors, she punched the button as she waited. As she waited, she opened her bag as she made sure she brought the keys to open the restaurant building, she'd left them at home before and wasn't about to repeat that mistake again. The familiar ding of the elevator made her look back up as the doors opened to reveal, none other than her neighbor, Blythe remembered her name was Phobe. "Morning." She said happily, her eyes quickly went to the red-head's clothes. Blythe felt a deep sadness, she hated seeing someone with so much potential like Pheobe, wasting it like this. She watched as the other girl pushed past her and quickly turned to her, Blythe hesitated for a moment.

"Hey, Pheobe...that job offer at my brother's restaurant, it's still on the table for you...you know, in case you were interested." She said as she fell quiet, Blythe wanted to say so much more, but she knew she would lose the sliver of friendship she had with Phobe. "Have a nice morning then." With that said, Blythe turned only to see that the doors had already closed. She pressed the button again and waited, it didn't open and she could now hear it going down again. "Great." She muttered to herself as she sighed, Blythe crossed her arms as she waited. She glanced over at Pheobe, she had always found herself attracted to the red-head, in a more than neighbors kind of way. "Hey, Pheobe...do you want to go grab breakfast with me, I know a pretty good place."
 
The lift bell went off, drawing Phoebe's eyes up. Of course, on the other side of the door was her neighbour and her mood instantly dropped. The woman looked as if she had just finished digging through her bag and the red head took that chance to step to the side and slip out of the metal box. She hoped the woman wouldn't speak to her, but her luck wasn't nearly that good. Phoebe's grey eyes landed on Blythe as she began to speak, her fingers loosening the buttons on her jacket to expose the dress underneath. She was already partly to her door and had been caught. There was no use in hiding her clothing at this point.

She only vaguely remembered the offer her neighbour had offered to her, but the sound of working in a restaurant caught her ear. The thought of working in a place that would let her use her degree would be a dream come true, compared to what she was doing now, but the question was, could she afford it. While she had money saved in her bank account, that wasn't about to last forever. Her job as a stripper gave her plenty of funds to work with on a daily basis and in the long run, would give her more. The thoughts haunted her as she watched Blythe turn towards the elevator. Sadly for her, the doors had already closed and Phoebe gave her a short, quick look over before turning away towards her front door.

But when her name was called, she stopped and turned around once again to face the pixie-haired girl. She hesitated for a moment at the suggestion of breakfast and very slowly shook her head. "I'm not up for breakfast," she admitted, trying to set the girl's offer down softly without smashing it into pieces. She had been up all night and simply wanted to curl under her covers and sleep the day away. She had that evening off, which gave herself plenty of time to do as she pleased. What she pleased... Her mind locked into an idea and she straightened her back at the thought, standing at her full height of 5'10", simply because of her four inch heels. "I have the night off," she informed her neighbour. "Would you... care to come over?"
 
Blythe lightly sighed as she leaned her whole body against the metal door, she was a rather cheerful girl. Her name meant cheerful, carefree, and peaceful; she always liked it and everything it meant, and she tried living her life like her name. Never letting anything bring her down, always being happy and kind to everyone, but there were times that she felt a heavy unhappiness weigh her down. It came out of no where and just hit her hard and head on, it faded away a while after. Blythe snapped out of her thoughts as she realized Pheobe had rejected her invitation to breakfast, she wasn't surprised, she would have been even more surprised if Phoebe accepted it.

"Alright, another day then." She replied as she leaned her head back, Blythe softly blew at a clump of hair that was getting in her eyes, she kept at it until it blew up and stayed put. "Yay!" She muttered softly to herself, Blythe was easily entertained, even more easily excited. The familiar ding rang out and Blythe pushed herself off the doors before they opened and she fell onto only god knows who, she wasn't up to making an idiot out of herself, especially now that she was the temporary owner of Grace Brasserie. Neither her brother nor she knew what it meant, and it didn't really seem to bother them. Business was good, people loved the food, and Blythe was doing the two thing she loved; making sweets and making people happy.

She snapped her head up as she heard Pheobe, she looked a little confused about what the taller woman said, a smile formed on her face as she realized what Pheobe said. Blythe never had gone over to Pheobe's house and was now excited. "Sure, I would love to. I'll even bring something over from the restaurant, something sweet and chocolaty." She replied as the elevator doors opened up and a small family walked out, Blythe let them pass as she smiled happily. Today a fresh shipment of chocolate was arriving at the restaurant so she would be able to make something good, Blythe felt more than happy. "I'll come over as soon as I get out, see you later Pheobe!" Blythe said happily, she waved at the girl before getting into the metal box, she hit the ground button. Today was going to be a good day, she could just feel it.
 
With a smile, one that she hadn't given in nearly a month, the red head nodded in just enough time for Blythe to see before she vanished into the elevator. With a new joy spring in her step, Phoebe returned to her apartment, where her calico patterned cat was waiting for her. With a soft meow, he greeted his owner, rubbing against her legs, as if expecting her to be home at that time. Phoebe knew better, that her cat had simply rushed the door, but either way, it was always pleasing to see someone home waiting for her. She clicked her tongue a few times, removing her heels and placing them gently in the bottom of the closet, before stepping away and heading off to the bathroom. Although the dinner date had been lined up, Phoebe still needed to get out of her clothing and change into something fare more comfortable and fitting for herself, rather than work.

After properly wiping the makeup from her face, the woman slid into a hot bath, settling against the foot of her tub to let her body soak and wash the feelings from the night before away. It was a hard task, but by the end, the girl was ready to climb into her bed and sleep for several hours. With another soft meow, Phoebe was joined by 'Captain Ameowrica', who quickly curled up against her warmth and began the low purring sound which comforted Phoebe on her lonely nights. The stripping chef let her eyes close and was swiftly whisked away by sleep, where she remained for several hours.

The rest of the world bustled around her, unknowing of the woman in her apartment. All was calm as the mailman filled the mailboxes sitting peacefully in the lobby of the building. Several plain, white letters were slipped inside, several of which would soon be picked up by their new owner. Phoebe slept for nearly six hours before she even bothered to wake up and begin her day again. This time around, she was dressed, heading out to the store to pick up what she needed for dinner. It was difficult, since she didn't know what sort of food Blythe enjoyed, but given she worked in a restaurant, Phoebe could take a few guesses and hope one was alright. She picked up chicken, pasta and another two bottles of wine, along with several of her normal purchases. Chicken piccata was a good choice, she was hoping, but at least she didn't have to take care of dessert. That certainly wasn't her strong point.

Once she was back in her apartment, the red head gathered her mail and returned to her apartment, slipped the groceries into the fridge and cabinets and landed on her couch with a sigh. The rest of her day was being taken up with catching up on the latest episodes of her favourite television shows and waiting for Blythe to arrive.
 
"Ah Philip! Où est la can...cât-o...shoot! Why can't I remember how to say glazed duck?!" Blythe muttered frustrated as she tried talking to the rôtisseur, the man by the name of Philip looked entertained at the young woman walking around. Blythe was a little on the stressed side yet tried to remain cool, calm, and collected.

"Mademoiselle, do you mean Le Canard glacé?" He asked with a smug grin, Blythe lightly glared at him before nodding and caused him to laugh. The brunette smiled slightly as she leaned against the brick wall, she was tired. Philip patted her head. "Do not worry, Mademoiselle, Le Canard glacé is in the oven. The critique will love it, if I do say so myself." Blythe softly laughed as she felt the heat skin on the back of her neck cooling against the cold wall behind her, it was a welcoming feeling.

Blythe jolted as a server entered, ordering a Chocolate Cup Crème Brulée, she quickly headed back to her station, grabbing everything she needed. Today was busy and she couldn't stop and rest, the fast she did things, the fast the day seem to move along and the fast she could end this and go over to Pheobe's. Blythe was glad, she finally was getting closer to the older woman. Maybe, just maybe, she could get Pheobe out of the horrendous job she had and working in the restaurant along side her.
Blythe smiled to herself as she thought about it, at the moment everything was perfect. "Mademoiselle, la Crème Brulée!" Well almost everything, Blythe snapped back to reality as she realized, her dessert was burning.

Twelve hours later, Blythe was finally done! The restaurant was closed for the night, the critique gave them an A and an amazing critique, and right now Blythe was making the finally dessert. Two Mocha Pots de Crème, sweet, gooey and chocolaty; it was perfect. Blythe placed the ceramic heart shaped bowls in a small cardboard box, hoping nothing would happen to them. Finally she finished, Blythe walked out and finished locking up for the night.
She quickly found bike and got on, she carefully placed the box in the back basket before taking off. Yes, Blythe didn't have a car and yes, she only had a bike. Her father died in a car accident and after that, getting into a car freaks her out, she didn't tell anyone since they found it either funny or sad. Blythe didn't need their pity nor their humiliation, she kept peddling; also the place she called home was only two miles away from the restaurant.

Blythe hopped off the bike and quickly pushed it into the alleyway before chain it to a thick water pipe and headed into the apartments, she passed by a mirror and quickly fixed her hair. Blythe wasn't sure if to change before heading to Pheobe's or not, she went with the latter one since this wasn't a date or anything like that. The brunette got into the elevator and pressed the button, she felt a little nervous about this. Her foot lightly tapped to the elevator music as she waited, a fluttering could be felt inside her stomach as the door opened. Blythe stepped out and made her way over to Pheobe's, she lightly knocked before waiting, holding the small cardboard box close; the smell of the chocolate was making her hungry.
 
Some time during the day, Phoebe had decided on what she was going to wear that evening. It wasn't an easy choice and she wasn't completely settled on it, but some time between getting dressed and starting to pound the chicken out, she had lost track of time and it became too late to change. Her head jolted up as she heard the knock on her door and with a calm sigh, she approached it, checking through the peep hole before opening the door, allowing the other woman to enter.

"Hello," she greeted with a smile. The red head was still tucked behind the door until her guest had entered and she had the chance to shut the door. Her choice of outfit was nothing special; just a pair of hip hugging, bootcut jeans and a burnt orange tank top which, with the help of her hair tie, exposed a good bit of the woman's shoulders. "Dessert?" she asked, holding a hand out for the box. The scent of chocolate was what gave it away, not that Phoebe minded. The smell was far more delicious than anything she could have hoped to have that evening and to have it made by the woman now standing in front of her was all she could ask for.

Phoebe took a few steps further into the apartment, inching onto the large rug she had placed over the fake hardwood-looking floor that had been placed in her apartment. As soon as she moved into the building, the first thing she did was buy several matching carpets to lay around the room so that, except for the entry way and kitchen, she had something soft to step on. There was nothing better for aching heels than a soft, warm carpet to walk on. The rest of her apartment was kept the plain eggshell white colour she had been greeted with when she moved in, but instead of attempting to paint, she simply hung curtains and loose pieces of stylized cloth over the walls, all white colour with a pale purple hue weaved into the fabric. On the wall opposite the couch was a television entertainment system all set and ready to be used, complete with surround sound, several game systems and a full forty eight inch television sat on top of it all, staring the couch down with a psychedelic pattern shining on the screen. Music was flowing from the speakers, filling the room with a light, rhythmic tribal beat, something far different and more peaceful then what could be found in Phoebe's club.

The kitchen was set up behind a half wall, located directly behind the couch, so if one was standing at the counter, they could still see what was showing on the screen. And in the space beside the television set was the hallway to Phoebe's more private area; the bedroom and bathroom. The entire apartment was certainly set up in a way in which one could never tell what her profession was. A stripper, despite some of her mannerisms and a small selection of her personal wardrobe, was the last thing people would guess.
 
Blythe politely looked around the apartment, she was rather surprised by how beautiful Phoebe’s apartment was, it was like something out a homemaker's magazine. The brunette's house was the completely opposite; with walls painted black with bright neon color paint splattered on the walls, the floor had been changed. Blythe wasn't sure how her brother had done it, but when one walked upon it, it changed colors. She walked around and a rainbow of footprints followed her, she liked it and only covered them up with rugs when family came over for whatever reason. Blythe was a child at heart, her whole life was rather...dream and child-like, coming over Phoebe’s was a whole different change of pace.

"Yeah, they're called Mocha Pots de Crème which easily translates to Mocha Pots of Cream, but don't let the name fool you, they're not really mocha or cream. It's more of like a chocolate soufflé, only thicker, like mousse. It pretty good and it has a hard chocolate shell on top that is raspberry flavored chocolate, it’s eaten chilled.” She replied and smiled, Blythe was feeling better about being here. Her eyes found their way to Phoebe and noticed her clothes, the red-head was lucky, she had such a perfect figure that all women wished to have and made men drool. Blythe guessed that was why she had the job she had, men wanted her. “You’re apartment is beautiful, I love all the beautiful colors, it really nice combined.” She complimented, Blythe was rather honest and wasn't about to lie, there wasn't anything to lie about.

As she turned back to Phoebe, she felt a little bad about her clothes, she was still wearing the long sleeve shirt and jeans she’d been wearing this morning. “Well that’s for inviting me over, your house has a very wonderful homey feeling to it.” Blythe lightly leaned her hip against the counter as she stuck her hands into her pockets. “I had actually started thinking you hated me since I kept bugging you about the job opening in my brother’s restaurant and that you should take it, I know about your chef degree. I had seen it in one of your boxes when you moved in, I had though you worked as a chef…My guess was pretty far from it.” She softly laughed as she spoke, she meant no harm and just wanted to make some small talk.

Blythe could smell dinner cooking, her stomach light rumbled as she remembered, she had skipped lunch trying to make a special birthday cake someone had ordered. It was short notice, but a rather rich man was celebrating his birthday, so Blythe made an exception and started making it. In the end, the man loved it, in fact he loved it so much that he offered Blythe another job. The brunette would have her own shop with her own workers, it would be a branch of the man's baking dynasty, Blythe wouldn't even need to be the one baking the sweets if she didn't want to. The young woman was taken back and told the man she would think about it, he gave her his card and a large tip before leaving. Blythe could feel the card in her pocket, the smooth piece of plastic rather than paper.

The decision was heavy on Blythe's mind, she could finally be on her own and own her own shop, yet she didn't want to leave Barnaby all alone with the restaurant. Blythe light shook her head as she pulled her mind out of that, right now she didn't need to think of that. She was here with Phoebe and she was going to enjoy it, Blythe needed to relax more.
 
The host took the desserts and nodded, slipping them into the fridge before she began to heat the pan on the stove. She had no idea when Blythe actually got off work, so the meal hadn't even begun to cook. Lucky for the ladies, it didn't take long at all and it could be whipped up in under half an hour, if done by an expert. Phoebe was exactly that. The meal she had picked out was one she had made time and time again, even just for herself on a night off. she adored the tang from the lemon juice and wine with the flavour of floured chicken. It was a perfect combination for any occasion. And to top it off with the rich dessert would be the best way to end the evening.

Turning her head back towards Blythe, Phoebe smiled and added butter to the pan. "Thank you," she responded, making sure to flash a 'signature smile' in the brunette's direction before turning back to what she was doing at the stove. While she worked, her ears were tuned to pay attention to what her guest was saying. "I rarely hate," she informed Blythe calmly. "Greatly dislike, but I never hate. And it certainly wasn't because you were offering me a job." With that being said, the woman turned to face her guest, allowing the chicken some time to cook in the pan. The aromas were rising and spreading, filling the apartment with a fresh smell. Captain even felt the need to come investigate what was going on and made his presence known with a loud cry of annoyance towards Phoebe. The woman responded with a light shove of her foot, sending the feline darting out of the room onto the back of the couch.

"Sadly, it is far from it. But the money is worth it." She wasn't about to go into large details, and quickly cut herself off in favour of giving the girl another smile. "So you're the pastry chef in the restaurant?" she questioned, stirring the chicken lightly. "Is it enjoyable, or just a job?"
 
Blythe listened to Phoebe, she quickly noticed the cat and smiled. The brunette walked over to him and lightly petted him, making sure to be care so he didn't scratch her. Blythe's head moved up a fraction at the question about her job, she smiled to herself. "I really do love it, I studied in the Culinary Art Institute of Paris to achieve my degree; it was expensive, but now it's worth every penny and paying me back." She softly replied, her voice was that of someone remembing past memories, she snapped of it and looked up. Truth be told, Blythe didn't study to be a pastry chef because she had liked it...well at the time she didn't, like any cheesy love story, she had gone to Paris chasing love. She fell in love with a guy and went to France with him, she studied along side with him and halfway through her last year, she met his wife and their four kids; Blythe felt like an idiot.

"I'm happy to wake up day to day and start working, yes it's tiring, but fun. The fast paced evenings, the slight bitter-sweet fear of every passing critique, the tongue twists of trying to speak French; it's all pretty fun and new boring." Blythe stopped petting the cat as she walked back to the older red-head. "My brother also owns the place, so I don't have the huge stress of being hated by my boss or that one mistake will end my dream job. Though for about...hmm how long has it been...six?...eight? Yeah, I think eight months now, I've had to run it along with being the only pastry chef; it just adds to the fun." Blythe gave a mellow smile as she crossed her arms and leaned against the wall behind her.
 
Phoebe began pouring wine into the pan, making up the sauce, before turning to Blythe to listen to the woman once again. "Cooking and running it? That's quite a handful," she pointed out, sounding quite impressed by what she was doing in her job. It wasn't something that most people would take on, given you would have to deal with two of the more stressful sides of a restaurant. Blythe was quite brave to tackle a job like that. While her mind turned, the red head placed the chicken back into the pan and drained the pasta in the sink. "Your brother could still fire you," she pointed out, a playful tone in her voice. "I doubt it, but it's a complete possibility." She smiled, turning enough to allow the woman to see the smile.

She finished the dinner and placed it out on plates for the two. "Wine?" she offered, lifting the bottle of white wine. "I studied at Le Cordon Bleu," she informed the woman. "First few years were in Boston before I moved to Madrid." She poured herself a glass before carrying the plates to a table sitting at the edge of the kitchen. It had been set with a black table cloth and red place mats, complete with knives, forks and napkins arranged in the proper, professional way. The red headed woman returned to the kitchen, walking closer to the woman than she had when she left the room. Her arm lightly graze against Blythe's before bringing the drinks they had selected back to the table.

"I hope this is to your liking," Phoebe admitted, taking her seat at the table. "I forgot to ask what you preferred."
 
"I doubt he would even think of firing me, he goes off on vacation all the time and ends up leaving me in charge a lot." Blythe said lightly, joking was what she did when she was nervous, she felt a rush of something go up her spine as Phoebe's arm grazed past her, her cheek got a slight pale pink color to them.

“This looks…really good!” Blythe replied happily, she walked over to the table and sat down trying to ignore that had just happened. She was to say the least, impressed; Blythe now knew that Phoebe was in the wrong line of work. She was a lady, not a whore or slut, and the brunette kind of respected her despite it everything that people said about the redhead. "Thanks for making this, I like any kind of food so anything you would have made would have been fine with me." Blythe replied as she smiled at Pheobe, the brunette scooted back a little in the chair, she looked at the wine and her smile fell. She wasn't one to drink, she was a rather lightweight to came to it. "One glass won't hurt." She said as she took a small sip, the sweet burning liquid ran down her throat.

Blythe lightly coughed, she hid it behind her hand before looking up at Phoebe. "Sorry, it's been a while since I've had any type of alcoholic drink, I'll just stick to one glass." She replied before picking up her silver wear. "Bon appetit." She lightly giggled before taking a bite of her food, it was good and this was coming from a woman who had taste almost every type of food there was. "Wow." She muttered as soon as she finished swallowing. "It's really good." Blythe was surprised, Phoebe would do good at Grace Brasserie, Blythe knew it.
 
Phoebe knew how to take a complement when one was given, but unlike her normal situation, she couldn't smile and brush it off with another activity. She had to face her guest and take it in the proper fashion. "Thank you," the red head responded with a small, graceful nod of her head before taking a short sip of her own wine. "I try not to make it a habit to drink much, but for a dinner like this, it's a nice addition." Her thin fingers smoothly pulled back from the stem of her glass to pick up her fork. "I have to admit, I could cook this meal with my eyes closed. I sort of cheated." The woman gave a small shrug of her shoulders as she took a bite of the chicken.

"I'm glad you like it though," she added, her haunting grey eyes falling to the plate in front of her. "I imagine your contribution will be far better. It's been months since I've had a good dessert." Another smile flashed over her lips, although unlike the last few, this was a true, joyful smile. Her eyes lifted from her dish again to lock with Blythe's across the table. It had been some time since the woman had a date and even longer since she had someone to cook for. Deep down, although she enjoyed the pay cheque she earned, Phoebe missed being in the kitchen, doing what she did best. None the less, she enjoyed when she could cook and found even more pleasure in it when others took part and favoured what she had done.
 
Blythe smiled sightly. "Still, it's really good and I think that's all that matters, you like making it and you do it rather well." She replied, her delicate looking fingers took a hold of the fork and took about bit of chicken, she really did like it. Blythe looked at the glass of wine and fought with herself if she should keep drinking it or just asked Phoebe if it's alright with her that she gets some water instead. Blythe decided to just finish the first glass and than get water, how bad could one glass be.

"I haven't had wine since...maybe two years ago on New Year's at Grace Brasserie, I don't really remember what happened afterwards. My brother told me he dragged me back home after I tried dancing on a table, but ended up smashing a bottle and my head on the Chandler. Blythe quietly admitted as she remembered, she lightly bit her lip as she realized that wasn't something she should not have said out loud. Blythe pulled her attention away from it and back to what Phoebe was saying, she softly laughed and lightly poked her food. “Well you can make this with your eyes closed, which means it’s something you’ve done many times. The dessert I brought is my version of this; I’ve made it multiple times, just not for customers. I’ve made it for myself, for my brother and his wife once, and twice for a date.” ‘This would make it three times then. The last part stayed in her head, she wasn’t about to say that and then fine out this wasn’t a date, just a friendly dinner.
Blythe glanced down as she felt something pass by her leg, she quickly spotted Phoebe’s cat. Blythe smiled as she turned her foot upward and the cat rubbed his chin on her shoe, she softly laughed before looking up at Phoebe. “You’re cat is adorable, what’s his name?”

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{<==< Cute.}
 
Phoebe cracked a smile as she listened to the woman's story of her last wine adventures. It was rare that Phoebe got drunk enough to have any stories such as that. Her work demanded that she remain sober while on duty, and she never stayed there longer than she had to be. As it was, she hated the building and the smell of smoke that was left on her clothing. Her closet was full of air fresheners and dryer sheets and when it was nice, she would air out her clothing as much as she possibly could. It was rare for the red head to have a night she enjoyed going through and every bit of evidence she could remove was better for her own comfort. She rarely mentioned that to anyone and she wasn't about to bring it up in the middle of Blythe's entertaining tale. Luckily, she changed the topic.

The more she was describing about her special dessert, the more Phoebe's stomach was turning away from her food, hoping she would replace it with the delectable treat her floor mate and brought over. It was rare for Phoebe to turn away her own food, but what Blythe was offering sounded to be far better. "I sounds wonderful," the woman admitted as her guest looked down at her legs. Phoebe shifted her feet beneath the table and glanced over the edge to see what was interrupting their meal.

"That would be Captain Ameowrica," she told the other woman with a smile. "My brother has Agent Phil Pawson and my sister has LoKitty." With a small shrug of her shoulders, Phoebe gave a hesitant smile. "Our father had us into comic books at an early age, believe it or not."
 
Blythe softly laughed at the name, it was cute and pretty funn. "LoKitty, cute name of one of my favorite comic villians. My brother got me into comic when I was young; I still have some of the comics in my room, keeping the first comics in sleeves like the dork I am." She replied, smiling softly to herself as she lightly picked at the food, taking a few bites.
The younger girl finished eating, feeling rather warm and fuzzy inside; not only because of the food but because of the company. Blythe missed eating with someone and laughing with them, tell stories, and just be happy and not alone. She quickly realized she was crying, not a huge bawing her eyes out crying. Just a tear slipping out of her eyes as she sat there, she quickly wiped it away. "I got something in my eye, I think some dust or something." She muttered, trying to make an excuse to her sadness.

The brunette smiled slightly as she looked at Pheobe and noticed the older woman didn't look so hungry and was pretty sure she wanted to save room for dessert, Blythe got the hint. "Hey, Pheobe; would you like me to get the desserts out?" She asked as she got up, Blythe was about to grab her plate as she realized something was wrong; her legs started trembling.
Blythe tried to take a step forward when she felt, it wasn't even funny. Blythe was down on her knees as she held the plate still in her hands as she stayed there for a moment before stiffening slightly. "I guess the wine affected me more than I thought it would." She muttered as she sat on the ground, on her knees, holding a plate while a cat was trying to lick from it.
 
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