Fishy Disdain

Sakura Sushi House

Decorated in dark reds and blacks, the Sakura Sushi House wraps patrons up in a warm, glamorous Asian atmosphere. Along both walls are black bench-tables, sparsely decorated with small red flowers in black vases, and tea light candles. In the center are smaller tables designed for two, to create a romantic setting.
The food that is offered at the Sakura is quite different from any other Asian restaurant. It offers a fusion of Japanese foods such as sushi and teriyaki and Szechuan dishes such as twice cooked pork.

Recent events have left Chloe a little rattled, and to make matters worse things are changing about her. Her skin looks brighter, her cheeks pinker, her hair shinier, and despite it being the midst of a flu season, she seems to be the picture of perfect health.

Most people would die for something like that, but Chloe? Well she'd rather that it hadn't happened at all. Mainly because no matter how much of the mind-numbing medication she doses herself with, the "incident" is letting things leak through. Easy enough to hide in the library, but when one is in need of lunch one generally needs to be around people. Which is why she's here. Sure, there are a few cafes close to the library but she needs a change of scenery, and the walk outside did her mind a bit of good.

Until she walked into Sakura, and was immediately bombarded with a mental argument taking place between two patrons that otherwise have a pleasant exterior. Her right hand is set to her temple, eyes squeezed tightly shut as she tries to make her way to the sushi counter to place her lunch order.

Ah, but she is in luck! For opposite of the arguing couple, one Ivan Fontane is seated, chopsticks being waved around in mild gesticulation as he talks to…himself? "No, no, no, that wont do. Yeah. Tell him he needs to suck it up and start taking it like a man, because he's going to eat fish whether he wants to or not. Yeah, I leaked some info about him coming to dinner here to the press - we'll have pictures of him eating sushi floating around. That's bound to boost up his approval ratings with Asian Americans. Ha! Yeah, man. Did you pork her?"

Or…not to himself, but into his new bluetooth headset. Where as the rest of the room might buzz with mental activity, Ivan's mind is surprisingly clear - one thought at a time, simple and easy to latch onto for people of those peculiar abilities. It becomes even clearer as he offers his jovial goodbyes to his business partner and shuts the phone off, intent on finishing the rest of his meal in peace. However, the moment one of the short skirted patrons walks by his table, his eyes track after her, and one thought stands, proud, above all the rest.

«Nice ass.»

A broadcaster? Possibly not, but Chloe can certainly hear it loud and clear despite the fact that she double-dosed on meds this morning. She'll have a few choice words for a certain someone later, and they're not going to be all that nice.

Another broadcast comes through just in time for her to avoid crashing into a waiter. Eyes open, and she peers at the "nice ass" man, frowning slightly. Without hesitation, she moves right up to the table, slipping into the seat across from him. She is, perhaps, just a tad irritated that she's hearing the voices again and he's going to bear the brunt of that irritation.

"I sincerely hope that your mother didn't raise you to be that crass," she says to him, staring at him intently.

One roll of seaweed, rice, and fishbits is deposited into Ivan's mouth, and he's in the process of swallowing the good when, out of nowhere, Chloe takes it upon herself to sit down beside him and lecture him on…what is he being lectured about? Slowly, his left eyebrow arches up, and with an insufferable lift of his lips, the man proceeds to finish chewing before even bothering to address the stranger. "Mhmm. I would sincerely hope that your mother taught you not to talk to strangers, but that seems like a moot point now, isn't it?" He offers, wry bemusement coloring his tone as he inspects her.

«What's she mean, crass? I've been sitting here, eating my food the entire time. Maybe she's one of those vegans, ugh. Or…yeah, that's the ticket. She recognizes me from TV, probably. Was probably just looking for an excuse to talk to me. Oh yeah, she wants some of this.» Sometimes, it's quite incredible how self-assured the man can be. Other times, it's quite annoying. With an amiable grin, he leans back comfortably. "Since we're both going against our mother's warnings, I suppose, we might as well make the best of it. Who're you?"

Chloe watches him eat, still giving him that irritated stare. Hands fold neatly onto her lap, and she shakes her head. "You have a bit of rice right there," she says pointing to the left corner of his mouth. The lack of interest apparent.

"Who I am isn't important, but who that woman that you were drooling over, is. Senator's daughter, and I doubt you want to insult her by staring at her rear end. She'd call up daddy faster than you can bother to turn your ear piece back on, and that would more than likely be the end of your career."

Ivan is unflapped by Chloe's apparent indifference, his humor remaining strongly in place. For a brief moment, he considers asking her to remove the rice for him - ideally with something other than his hands - but he figures it might not go over all that well, and with culture he lifts a napkin to dab at the corner of his mouth. Besides, the rest of her words are much more compelling. "Woman I was /drooling/ over? What, have you been watching me or something?" Ivan accuses, that smile bleeding away just slightly. His eyes flicker back to the woman he had been appreciating before. And then, suddenly, in a surprising turn of events, he does something he rarely bothers to do. He tells the truth. "You say insult, I say flatter. Tomayto, tomahto. I wager she wouldn't be half as offended as you presume, /friend/. In fact, I bet I could leave here with her number if I wanted to. Give me a day or three, and she'd be eating out of the palm of my hand."

And now, his eyes round on her person critically. "What's it to you."

The consideration flits through her mind, and Chloe makes a mental note to /kill/ the vampire when she gets a chance to. Save her life or not, this is definitely not something she bargained for. "Or something," comes the smooth reply. "The Senator in question is not very fond of your boss. Diametrically opposed, actually." To put it in clearer terms, "Anti-Vampire." Chloe whisks her hair over her shoulder and peers at him. "Feel free to try that if you want to, but just consider this a friendly warning that it's liable to jump up and bite you on the ass when you least expect it to."

"Yeah, forgive me if I pass on your generous advice." Ivan drones out, coupling the action with a liberal roll of his eyes. Picking up the single, long-necked beer he had ordered to accompany his meal, the cool beverage is thrown down his throat. "You see, I have a precedent of /not/ listening to stalking whack-jobs. Since we're on the topic of bad form - what are you doing here. Why are you ruining my lunch. If it's for your fifteen seconds of fame on the television, you're going to have to work at it, and believe me, you're going to have to work /hard/ on smoothing me over now."

"Sug', I wouldn't stalk you if you were the last man on earth." Chloe's turn to roll her eyes. "First off, the only thing ruining your lunch is you and that stupid phone you have attached to your ear." Which she points to for a moment before giving her head a shake. "I particularly don't want to be involved with anything having to do with you, your work, or the television. What I want is for you not to blow your chance at getting McNabb some decent press because you start to think with your little head."

Ivan snorts, his eyes running over her features with calculating precision. "What do you call this, then, if not stalking. I don't know your name, I have not seen you before. And yet you claim to know me oh so intimately. Either you're a fucking nutcase, 'special', or a bit unnaturally interested in me. I'm guessing a combination of the three. It puts your claim to suspect. I'm, clearly, not the last man on earth, and you seem to dislike my presence so much - and yet, here you are. Still. Even after offering your peculiar bit of generosity." With this shot out there, he clasps his fingers together before him. "If there is one thing I can assure you, it is that I am exceptionally good at my occupation. There's no need to worry."

Chloe would not argue the first two points, as she considers herself to fit into both categories. Though her preferred word is 'cuckoo'. "And you likely won't see me again after today. Ergo, I'm much less interested in you than you want me to be, which is what is getting your anger piqued. My claim, no matter how suspect is the truth. You go skirt chasing that girl, you're going to wind the mayor up in a lot of hot water." Whether he is good at his occupation or not is not in question. Whether he can keep it in his pants long enough to stave off a rather awkward and uncomfortable situation for his employer /is/.

"Enjoy your lunch. I'm certain the mayor will be here shortly," she says, pushing back from the table. "After all," she says with a small snort, "You'll want to boost his approval ratings with the Asian Americans… though you might have better luck with that actually having him visit Koreatown, rather than an Americanized sushi place." Shrug.

"Mhmm. Forgive me for my skepticism, dear." Ivan drawls out, sticking with the claim that he will never see her again. For he's quite familiar with this tune. He is traditionally familiar with inciting strong reactions out of the people around him - particularly from those of the female persuasion. People either love him or hate him. There is no room for in between. "I suppose I'll see you never, then. And, you're wrong. What would the mayor be doing in Koreatown, if not trying to up his image? The public is very sensitive to trickery. Subtleties are they way to go."

Chloe slides the chair back into proper position, leaning forward to adjust the place settings so that they will be perfect when the mayor arrives. "Considering that I /am/ the public, and I consider /this/ to be much more trickery than being up front and honest with people." She turns to go back about her day, but one final thing niggles at her brain. She pauses, glancing over her shoulder at him. "You have secrets, probably more than most. You're not quite normal yourself, yet you're far too quick to judge others when they try to help you out. Over compensating much?" That having been said, she starts for the counter to pick her order up.

Ivan's eyes flash almost dangerously towards her. "You did not approach me with the intention of helping. You approached me with thinly veiled snap judgments and a reprimand fresh on your lips. If that is genuinely what you consider help, then I pity you. I truly do. But do not, for one moment, pretend that your assertion is anything other than hypocritical. In spite of that, I wish you a good day." With that bit a structured diplomacy given, Ivan returns to his sushi, plopping the lastest bit into his mouth without second thought.

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