![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Canyon Brewing, Queenstown | Evening
Oct. 19th, 2023 09:02 amWas it a date, strictly speaking, if you'd spent the entire day together? Irene fancied she'd found another loophole there, though she was also much too pleased (and, admittedly, a bit too tired) to dwell on any psycho-romantic victories achieved this Thursday. There had been a wee spot of hiking early on, because apparently that was just the done thing around here, followed by what Irene firmly felt was the vacation find of the century: real-deal, not-for-children go-karting.
Not only had she been able to nose around the big muscley fast cars she'd never be able to have on the island (it was beside the point that Irene didn't really know how to drive a big muscley fast car, nor had she ever driven a vehicle on the right side of the road at all), but it had -- as she'd hoped -- given Amaya more than a little opportunity to get a good look at some small engines, and if Irene knew anything (and she thought she did), there were hopefully some figurative, inspired gears turning now.
And now, dinner at a brewery, chosen perhaps for the sheer number of foods on sticks on offer. Irene had considered going back to the room and changing out of the jeans and trainers and ponytail she'd been sporting all day, and into something more -- well, her, and seeking out something with linen tablecloths. But there was something more than a little appealing in just staying with the same sort of vibe they'd enjoyed all day, wasn't there? (And there was a tiny, secret part of her that was always pleased and flattered and warmed by the way Amaya's attention didn't exactly...evaporate, when she was dressed like this. She loved her armor, but maybe she didn't always need it.)
"Have you been anywhere they don't do food on sticks, full stop?" Irene wondered, once they were settled at a table with drinks. It seemed completely impossible, now that Irene'd had her eyes opened to the ubiquity of be-sticked food, as long as you took a liberal enough approach to the concept.
[for the blacksmith I've modded all over this post.]
Not only had she been able to nose around the big muscley fast cars she'd never be able to have on the island (it was beside the point that Irene didn't really know how to drive a big muscley fast car, nor had she ever driven a vehicle on the right side of the road at all), but it had -- as she'd hoped -- given Amaya more than a little opportunity to get a good look at some small engines, and if Irene knew anything (and she thought she did), there were hopefully some figurative, inspired gears turning now.
And now, dinner at a brewery, chosen perhaps for the sheer number of foods on sticks on offer. Irene had considered going back to the room and changing out of the jeans and trainers and ponytail she'd been sporting all day, and into something more -- well, her, and seeking out something with linen tablecloths. But there was something more than a little appealing in just staying with the same sort of vibe they'd enjoyed all day, wasn't there? (And there was a tiny, secret part of her that was always pleased and flattered and warmed by the way Amaya's attention didn't exactly...evaporate, when she was dressed like this. She loved her armor, but maybe she didn't always need it.)
"Have you been anywhere they don't do food on sticks, full stop?" Irene wondered, once they were settled at a table with drinks. It seemed completely impossible, now that Irene'd had her eyes opened to the ubiquity of be-sticked food, as long as you took a liberal enough approach to the concept.
[for the blacksmith I've modded all over this post.]
