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I spend my night dancing with my own show
Topic Started: Nov 17 2017, 12:06 PM (25 Views)
Brook Walker
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When people looked at Brook, they thought she was a romantic. When they talked with her, they somehow felt they <i>knew</i> she was a romantic. And on some level, maybe she was. She liked to believe everyone had a match out there – it wasn't just romantic, either. They found that person that completed them in a way no one else had. Sometimes that was a romantic partner but it could also be someone who had been a friend for years or a sibling or anything like that. But to go so far as to say she was romantic? She didn't really know if she was. She had asked both her brothers at different times. Denny said yes, Everitt said no; Denny said she was one of those types that when she loved, she loved completely and totally and her whole heart was in it. Everitt said no because it wasn't like Brook was falling in love at the drop of a hat. That was personally what Brook thought. Wouldn't a romantic have to have rosy tinted glasses and daydream all the time and find beauty in everything? To be fair, she could find beauty in a lot of stuff but...but she hadn't had rosy glasses since she was small. Truthfully, she <i>wanted</i> the world to be happy and bright and for good people to have good things happen to them while bad people got what they deserve. But that didn't happen. Good people suffered, good people weren't given chances, bad people were called good or were given outs. Could she really be a romantic when she could only <i>want</i> good things in the world rather than believing they <i>were</i> good?
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Romance had just...never really been big for her or her family, she thought. Look at her parents; they were together, but it was a brittle bitter thing that had finally ended when she announced that she was moving out for her own apartment. She never did get to ask what they had seen each other. Had they been love at first sight that they didn't see each other's flaws? Was mom pregnant with Denny and they felt like they <i>had</i> to get married? What had they seen in each other, what made them decide they no longer worked? It had always felt like a divided house, a war zone where she and her brothers were the refugees just trying to make things work. Look at Denny, who had a string of girls in his life, but every time she asked, it was a new name, a new girl. At least Denny never made a show of the girl being the right one this time, he had a feeling about her. Denny was just always saying they liked each other well enough...but clearly not enough that Brook heard the girl's name more than once. Was there romance for that? Did Denny woo them, treat them special? Or were they like Denny himself and just looking for company? Look at Everitt. He had had a <i>wife</i> and a daughter; he had been living the romantic dream that people wanted so many times. But he had gotten along poorly with said wife, they had never seen eye to eye and their raising styles for their kid were never exactly similar. Was it romantic that they had tried to be with each other? Was it romantic that his wife had thought he needed to change, to relax in a way that he didn't want to? Was it romantic that Everitt had ignored the divorce papers, even when he knew they weren't going to make it?
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Romance was good for books and movies. It was good for her to think about at night when she was alone; just thinking about the perfect man for her and what she would even want in a man. But she was too busy these days, it felt like. Suddenly she was back in Everitt's life more than she had ever been before, but that was partly because he had a boyfriend now...a boyfriend that happened to have become one of her best friends. That took up a lot of time, surprisingly, and she hadn't had a whole lot to spare. She was in college – again – but for science, which ate up time because the classes were more challenging. Add to that that she was a full time nanny – a job that was a full eight hours, plus some extra, plus some weekends. When did she have time to date? She had never been overly concerned about that until one day she had taken the kids to a museum. It had been a rainy, miserable day out and the kids had been fussy but their parents had tried to keep watching television to a minimum (she had gotten away with it during the time of her online classes, but it had been an almost grudging thing). The museum had been the perfect place to go. It had been when she was talking about something, she couldn't remember what. She had said she remembered reading about it and listing off the things she remembered...and then <i>he</i> had shown up. He had just been a little bit soft spoken, correcting her gently in a way that was very clearly just someone who had the information and who wanted to share it. He had talked and talked and she had felt warm and happy. She told herself that it was just a one off thing when they left, they would probably never see each other again.
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Except she had never been one to leave things to chance and maybe she was the romantic that Denny accused her of being because the next day off she had (the day she had worked with the family to take off for physical classes), she had decided to go back to the museum. She told herself it was just to see a few more pieces that the kids hadn't been interested in. She loved going to museums, she loved learning, so it wasn't a terrible trial to go look, was it? But before she had gone, she had spent a long time looking at her clothes, sorting through them. It had taken her <i>hours</i> to find something that looked nice but wasn't an obvious attempt at looking outstanding. She had done her make up, then washed it off, then <i>reapplied</i> the make up, only to wash it off <i>again</i> and settled on just some lipstick. The entire way to the museum she told herself she just wanted to look nice. A girl could want to look nice, couldn't she? That was her choice. Except instead of going to the exhibits she had been telling herself she wanted to see, she had found herself drifting towards the one where she had meet the man at – she hadn't even gotten his name. God, she was ridiculous, wasn't she? She had talked with a guy once while she held a baby, one four year old had been pressing their face against the glass, and a toddler had been holding on to her leg. Did she really think she was just going to see him again like magic?
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Tristan Bloom

Tristan couldn't quite remember when his dreams had changed. When he was younger, he had been full of all sorts of idealism and ideas. He was going to be this or that. He was going to become an astronaut and also a football star and in his pleasure time he was going to sail the world. He was going to be the first man to bring dinosaurs back but also become the prime minister of Britain. It was all the usual child dreams. Somewhere along the way, though. They had molded and changed. He had found himself enthralled in books not of fantasy and sci-fi but in books detailing events of the past. He found himself devouring history books, reading all about wars that had come and gone, about figures such as Caesar and Cleopatra, about the presidents of the United States, about the great monarchs of the British Isles, about plagues and miraculous scientific inventions, about hopes and dreams of mankind both rising and falling. He had read dusty old tomes that no one would dare to touch along with autobiographies and even things of a more scientific bent, such as the information gleaned from anthropological digs. It was all endlessly fascinating to him. He had never quite known what he was going to do about that fascination though. Not until one summer, the year before he would go for his A levels, and his parents had brought him to America for a vacation. They had traveled along from New York to Washington DC and back again and therein he had found his answer. They had stopped both in the Smithsonian and in the Museum of Natural History and there Tristan had found his calling. The men and women who mostly worked behind the scenes, researching every bit of text to get every bit of story out of every piece, the ones who were experts in their fields and spoke in documentaries - that was what he wanted to be.

He had worked hard to get top levels when he had graduated and then to get into an equally well reputed university. Most of the work had come easily to him. He had never thought of himself as intelligent or anything of the like - at least, not overly so - but he knew he did have one thing over most of the other student. He had a passion for what he wanted to do and it was that more than anything that propelled him through his classes. He certainly hadn't made some high and lofty dean's list or anything of the sort, but he had still come out top in most of his classes and graduated from university with a fairly high grade level. From there, it had been sniffing around to find a job. That was the harder part. Where would he go? He had had a world of opportunity in what he might do with his degree but he knew that research was the main thing that he wanted to do. He had been forced to decide what he wanted to research, at least for starters, and find museums that were hiring. A spirit of fancy had overtaken him at some point and he had applied to a museum in New York, thinking that he would never get it. He was too fresh. He had nothing behind him but college and a few papers that he had written in college. To his surprise, however, he had received a response and an offer to interview. He had jumped at the chance and he had been glad he did. They had liked him and he had liked them and they had offered him the position. He didn't think he had ever been more content in his whole life.

He was surrounded by people who were mostly like himself - people who were fascinated with what had been and learning all about the reasons behind it. He had hours of the day to devote to researching this or that via books, via the internet and via interviewing people who had been alive at the time or through their relatives. It meant he got to help plan out the exhibits when they were rotated through. It meant he got to write long, boring articles that he rather enjoyed all about the subject at hand. It was pretty much the equivalent of heaven for him. The one thing he didn't normally do was interact with the general public. It wasn't a part of his job description to do so. It wasn't that he disliked people. He didn't. He got on well enough with most of them. He was just usually tucked away in his little office, researching to his heart's content. In fact, he hadn't intended to stop the day that he had. He had been coming back from lunch. He hadn't even technically been on the clock at that point in time. He had passed by and heard someone speaking about something in the exhibit. The information hadn't been blatantly wrong, but it had been just far off enough to jangle at him. His brain had latched onto it and he had found that he couldn't just stand there and not correct it. So he had come closer, had cleared his throat and had gently spoken up and begun to pour out more information than was technically needed at that moment. When he had paused for a breath, he had been taken back by just how beautiful the young woman was. She was small, petite one might say. What struck him most about her was not her looks - although she was quite beautiful - but the fact that she was just watching him intently, listening to him rather than looking as if she wished she had never said a thing at all. She had even engaged him with more questions and he had lead them to another spot in the exhibit to keep going on and on. The children had looked bored at that point, but she hadn't. She had just looked fascinated.

He had cursed himself later for not getting her number. Then again, she had come in with three children. She had looked around his age. A bit young for three children, but not unheard of in this day and age. The children hadn't quite looked like her from what he remembered, but that also didn't mean anything. Genetics could be strange. Maybe she was happily married. Maybe she was a single mother with no interest in a man or a woman and was happy with her children. It was easier to think something like that rather than just sit and think what an absolute idiot he had been for not even asking for her number or giving her his own... or even inviting her out for a cup after his work had ended. Instead, he had just beamed as she thanked him and then she had lead the children off to somewhere else - perhaps to another exhibit, perhaps back to home. And he had let her go. He supposed that was life. He had sighed over it a few times but it was done. The odds of her returning just to see him? Or even to come back to the museum again? Sure, there was plenty to do and to see but not everyone returned constantly. Some people came at least once a month but most people it seemed to be a once a year or a spur of the moment sort of thing. He couldn't deny that he had stopped outside of the exhibit a few times, milled around to see if just maybe... but then he retreated back to his office each time feeling a fool. He had done it again today. Standing here, looking at things that he knew forwards and backwards, pretending like he was reading the information on the wall. He would do better to just give it up. It was as he thought that, turning with a small sigh, that he saw her. Oh, she was wearing clothing that was a little different but he would have recognized her anywhere. He couldn't stop the smile that broke out as he saw her and he knew he shouldn't be that pleased. They had only met once and it hadn't even included introductions. It had been all his talking about the exhibit. "Back for more, are we?" he asked as he took a few steps to draw nearer to her.
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Brook Walker
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God, look at her. She was being so silly, thinking she was going to meet with the man who had chatted with her and the kids for so long. Look at her thinking that he would even <i>remember</i> her. Odds were good that he wouldn't even <i>remember</i> her. After all, how many times did people re-meet in a museum that wasn't in a romantic comedy? Maybe it would be different if they had met in the same coffee shop or went to the same restaurant. That was easier; there was idle chatter there available and that was a consistent thing. This? This was a museum that was very large and probably had rotating people all the time. God if Denny and Everitt could see her now...She ignored the voice that said Denny and Everrit wouldn't overly care. They were good big brothers, they had looked out for her and each other, but ultimately the romantic life wasn't their business. Sometimes she daydreamed of brothers that would threaten a boy for even looking at her, telling them they weren't good enough to date her because she was <i>special</i>. She usually managed five minutes of that before she couldn't help her nose scrunching up and deciding she wanted nothing to do with that. Keep all their romantic lives private; it was just implied that they would take care of things if things went sour but they were all adults who could manage a break up. Not that Brook had really had need to worry about that considering she had been so caught up in...well, everything else. And here she was, expecting some guy to show up out of the blue and sweep her off her feet like he had before. Maybe that had been her chance. That was what romance was, right? Taking chances? Sometimes chances never came back. Sometimes you only had the one. Like when Brook had to take the chance in actually going to Paris with a family or picking out a major in school that she really wanted.
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The thought was a little saddening. Of course she would be sad that she had missed an opportunity, but...that was life, wasn't it? One door closed and another opened. She may not have found the love of her life or the love of her right now, but she was in a museum, wasn't she? She was surrounded by endless knowledge. It had been the one thing her mother had given to the kids freely. They were too materialistic (according to her) and toys only made them more hyperactive. But books? Oh, books and knowledge were fantastic. Museums and aquariums and historical societies were all perfect (so long as the kids never dared glance into a gift shop, so long as they never dared to act nothing more than grateful for their trip). Maybe she should just stick with her <i>true</i> love. She was still hesitant to leave the area, though. She hesitated to walk away and make her way towards the science of engineering sections. It was when she did plan to, when she had actually turned that <i>he</i> showed up. "<b>Oh!</b>" she couldn't help stumbling just the tiniest bit in surprise. She hadn't expected him to actually be there! "<b>You startled me,</b>" she laughed, unable to keep herself from blushing just the tiniest bit. He was handsome as he had been all those days ago. Taller than her with soft looking blond hair and a very smart looking outfit. Was this fate giving her a second chance? Was this her chance to snatch? Well, she would be silly not to, wouldn't she? If fate gave you a second time, you couldn't weep over not getting what you wanted. That was a fact.
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It was as she was staring into those blue, blue eyes that she realized she was at a complete loss. She lifted her hands to smooth over her loose ponytail, drawing her fingers through it as she kept repeating she had no clue what to <i>do</i>. She wasn't antisocial by any means, certainly not like a lot of people in her chosen field. Some would say she was cheerful and chatty, but that wasn't the same as flirting. What did she do? Did she pretend like she didn't remember him? But that was awfully rude and sent a very wrong message. Did she act like she wasn't here to see him, that this was all a coincidence? That might send the wrong message too, but when she thought about it, how would it sound for her to tell him she was there specifically for him? Finally she settled on a middle ground. "<b>I was, ah, thinking about what you taught me and the kids last time we were all here. My field isn't in history at all, I have to admit, so what I do know about it was always what I read.</b>" She gave a small laugh, shrugging a tiny bit. "<b>Down side of reading, I suppose. Sometimes the information was wrong. It – it was really interesting, so I thought I might try and see what else I could learn when I didn't have to watch over three kids.</b>" She loved those kids to death, really. They were like siblings to her now with how much time she had spent with them. But she really couldn't deny that it was hard to look into something <i>she</i> wanted when she was juggling three fussy kids that all wanted different things but all wanted attention right in that moment.
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She gave a small shake of her head. "<b>Oh, where are my manners? I swear, I teach the kids much better than I demonstrate.</b>" She held out her hand to him. "<b>I'm Brook. Brook Walker.</b>" It felt so...insane giving out her name. Sure there was always the idea that a 'stranger was just a friend you haven't met yet', but Brook wasn't a little girl anymore. There were plenty of friendly people in the world where you'd meet them in odd places...but there were also the drunks that didn't know boundaries and the creepers that only thought of one thing. She had preferred to give her name out in places that made sense; parties that had one or two acquaintances, people her siblings knew, people in school, people in classes. Giving out her name to some man in a museum was a little weird, right? No matter how handsome they were, no matter how charming their accent was, no matter how...perfect they were.
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Tristan Bloom

Just as he had begun to thought it was pointless and hopeless, that was when she had somehow appeared. That had to be some sort of sign, didn't it? Furthermore, she was here, she was wearing something that was rather nice and there were no children in sight at all. That had to be another sign. Just meeting her once could have been construed as a coincidence. A random chance that they both had missed. Seeing her here, now, alone and looking so beautiful... that was more than coincidence. She was here to see him, he was sure. She was here because she had wanted to see him and he had somehow managed to be here, too. It seemed like fate wanted them to have a chance. He wouldn't say he was a great romantic or that he had believed much in luck or fate but, right now, he felt like maybe he should. Maybe he should be an undying romantic because something was giving him a chance here. He reached out instinctively as she stumbled just a tiny bit as he spoke, placing a hand gently against her elbow and steadying her so she didn't take a tumble. Maybe he should have cleared his throat or done something to make himself more obvious so he didn't startle her. It was too late for that now, though. "Sorry about that. Not my intention in the least, I assure you." Because he most definitely didn't want to startle her, frighten her, potentially even chase her away. Oh no. He wanted things to go smoothly.

Reluctantly, he drew his hand away from her arm - one didn't just hold onto a strange young lady's arm, after all. That would just be rude and unseemly. In this day and age, it would probably get you sued, too. He watched her reach up to smooth her hands over her hair and then she seemed to just momentarily freeze. He was no stranger to what people - himself included - looked like when their minds were racing at a mile a minute. He had to wonder if it was for a good or a bad thing at the moment. Maybe she was thinking of an excuse to get away? If that was the case, however, why had she even come back here? Unless, for some reason, he had read it all wrong and she really was just here to view the exhibit without three children tagging along with her. He wracked his own brain for something to say - something witty or charming. The problem was that he was neither. He was smart, but the art of wooing the opposite sex had always been a bit of a mystery to him. He had had a few girlfriends, of course, but nothing overly serious. Most of them had claimed he was more in love with his books than he was with them. Most of his relationships had just drifted. This was the first time he could remember ever truly, desperately, wishing that he could be smooth and sweep someone off of their feet. He was beginning to panic just a little bit when the young woman spoke and it was on a topic that he knew quite well. "Ah, I know that too well. Sometimes books contain everything you need to know but, sometimes, they leave quite a bit out or the information is outdated. I'm afraid I know far too much about all of this, however," he swept his hand out to include the entire exhibit in his statement. He paused for a moment as she mentioned the children. "Yes, I quite remember them." Mostly he remembered that one had been too shy to come away from her legs, one had gotten bored far too soon and the other had been fussy. "Are they your children or...?" He desperately hoped that they weren't. Not that he had a thing against children but he assumed that someone with three of them in this city was likely tied down. Not unheard of if she were single with three children but still quite unlikely due to money.

He smiled as she held her hand out to him and introduced herself. "Brook. That's a lovely name." He reached out his own hand to take her's. For a moment, he held it in his own hand. Then he brought his other hand up to rest it on top of her's as well. It wasn't really a handshake. He did give it a brief little shake but mostly he just rested his hand atop her own as he held it. "Tristan Bloom. It's a pleasure to meet you." Reluctantly, he pulled the both of his hands away. Lest he be tempted to continue to hold to her hands, he slid them into his pockets and adopted a casual pose as he looked down at her. She was quite short compared to him, but he didn't mind that in the least. It just made her all the cuter in his eyes. "Look at me, just standing here. You said you were interested in learning more?" He mentally kicked himself because how unromantic or dull could you be? She had obviously come back for more than that but it was just what he defaulted to. Still, they said to play to your strengths, right? He might not have many strengths in the world but history and the ability to talk about it was one of them. Without even thinking about it, he extended his arm out to her. Belatedly, he realized that it really wasn't quite necessary for him to escort her around the exhibit. It wasn't exactly an enormous fixture, after all. Substantial for what it was, but it wasn't like some of the ones that they had gone through. Still, he had done so and he waited to see if she would take it or leave him hanging. "I'm sure we covered a lot when you were last here, but I can give you a refresher. I'm always ready to talk about my pet projects." Was that too much? He didn't want to brag even if he was proud of what he had helped to put together. Too much bragging just made you look unseemly. He wanted this to go well.
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Brook Walker
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He reached out, taking her elbow and helping to steady her. She wasn't entirely sure that <i>anything</i> would be able to steady her anymore, honestly. Her heart was beating so hard she felt like she could feel it through her legs. "<b>Oh, it's all right! My brothers are always saying I startle easy,</b>" she laughed. It wasn't exactly true. They were werecoyotes, they had been born that way. She remembered reading an article once about the differences between born and bitten. The people that had bitten had all talked about the normalcy effect taking place, that it all evened out and they didn't even notice anything being out of the ordinary. Personally Brook always found it a bit strange because she had been <i>born</i> with super sensitive hearing and scent, yet she jumped at everything. Everitt shrugged and said technically there was a bit of animal in them; Denny had pointed out that instincts worked differently because while they weren't coyotes properly, they were closer than other shapeshifters. So it was natural for her to be alert and to startle and to be aware. Brook sometimes felt as if that was somehow a cop out, that they were just trying to make her feel better for being jumpy, give her an explanation rather than leaving everyone to shrug over silly Brook. The more concerned people would wonder if it wasn't something with her family, others would just ask if someone had hurt her because people didn't just jump about over nothing. Except people like Brook apparently. Not exactly the first impression she wanted to make.
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If she just kept breathing, things weren't too bad. If she just focused on that, she would be okay. This whole flirting thing...it was easy, right? She had watched Denny do it to countless women over the years. She had watched Everitt be charming and sweet on men and women alike. But the art had been lost on her. When she had asked how they did it, they just said they knew what the person wanted to hear and they "sweetened" it...yet they couldn't tell her <i>how</i> they sweetened it. The last time she had tried, she had gone over the top apparently. In the end, it was probably better to just stick with what she knew and this man...he understood. He understood what she knew too. "<b>That's how it is with my science texts, it feels. Every month it feels like they've come up with some new discovery and then I can't use it anymore because they have different information.</b>" It had been frustrating on her wallet. She made a decent amount of money being a nanny, but the text books for science courses were probably some of the most expensive books in the college course...and also the ones that you couldn't get a lot of money back for exactly because of all the new finds. She followed his gesture, looking at the exhibit before turning back to him with a wide smile. "<b>But that's so great! IT's amazing that you know so much about it. I've never looked into this sort of thing before but I had read about it before and when I came here it was just...it's so fascinating.</b>" And she meant that honestly. It wasn't her area – history had never been big in her line outside of minorly and this was so much more than she was use to – but she couldn't deny that it was a chance to learn, to grow, to expand a little bit more. She was never going to just stop, she had decided ages ago. "<b>They do leave an impression,</b>" she laughed. They were good kids...but they were all kids under six who had been raised in a world where they were given almost everything they wanted and needed. When he asked hesitantly if they were hers, her eyes widened and she lifted her hands to wave them. "<b>Oh no, no! I'm not – I'm a nanny. Those are the kids I watch over.</b>" She always thought she would have kids one day when the time was right, but it just wasn't right <i>now</i>. It wasn't exactly like she had a boyfriend to share it with either.
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She had felt the blush start when he said that her name was lovely, even when she told herself that it was silly. That Brook was a nice name and it wasn't <i>just</i> because it was attached to her. But then the blush really heated when he took her hand and proceeded to cover it with his other hand. It wasn't a handshake. Even with him giving it a brief shake, it was too intimate to be a handshake. "<b>Tristan, that's a strong name. Regal almost,</b>" she offered. Was that a good equal to lovely? Most people didn't call a name "handsome" and some men might not want their name to be called lovely. What was better than having their name called regal and strong? And Tristan <i>did</i> sound regal, like some sort of man from history books. Maybe not a knight or a king, that was more the stuff of fairy tales. But she could see a man named Tristan as an adviser, as someone wise and knowledgeable who did so much more than a knight but never wanted the glory of a king. Tristan slid his hands into his pockets, going on to ask if she was interested in learning more. "<b>Very much.</b>" But...she could admit privately that maybe she'd have to come back when he <i>wasn't</i> working so she could actually retain some knowledge of what she had come to see. With Tristan around, she wasn't entirely sure she'd be able to focus when she had his voice to listen to, his sparkling eyes to look into. And when he offered her his arm, she knew that she wasn't going to learn anything. With only the minorest of hesitation (mostly to see if he would pull his arm away last minute), she took his arm, fitting hers snugly against him. "<b>A refresher might be needed,</b>" she admitted, "<b>The kids are pretty well behaved and curious, but...they're kids. I think some of my time was busy telling them not to play on things.</b>" They hadn't been that bad, but she <i>had</i> had to focus on them when they started fussing because that was her job. "<b>And I'm ready to listen,</b>" she beamed at him.
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Tristan Bloom

"Well, be that as it may, it was not my intention at all to startle you." Because he didn't want to startle her. He didn't want her to associate him with bad things. It was far too early to be jumping the gun about anything, of course, but he wanted her to view him favorably because this second meeting had to mean something. It had to be some kind of sign or fate if they were to meet again like this. If he started doing things that startled her or made her wary of him then they would lose that chance. He would scare her off before they ever had the chance to know one another. More than that, he had been raised to be a gentleman and a gentleman did not go around frightening ladies. And she was a lady. He was sure of that. You just had to look at her, talk to her, for only a few moments to realize that. "But no harm done, right?" he asked her, hoping that it was the case. Hoping that she hadn't taken any kind of affront to his being there or decided that he was someone to be wary around. She didn't seem that way, at least. He hoped that was the case.

The problem was that he had no idea how he should go about this. He had never been much of a flirt. That wasn't to say he hadn't enjoyed some female company but... he could admit that the women had been the ones being interested and getting his attention. He had noticed them, certainly, but he had been content in his books and his research and in learning all of the recipes that he was researching. He really had always felt as if he had no time for dating and the like. It had always taken someone else to break him out of that for him to think about trying it. Now he was faced with the fact that, really, in terms of being the one interested he really didn't have much of an idea as to how to proceed. "I imagine it's a little different... just because I imagine things progress much more rapidly in that field," he told her with a smile. "You're all about going ahead and this is all about going backwards. Still, it does change every single time someone discovers something new or finds more pertinent information than was available." It all depended on what you were studying specifically, too. The food itself? That wasn't going to change much. The stories and the culture behind it could alter, though, if you found information that was different. He gave a small laugh as she smiled at him, telling himself he did not feel flustered, thank you. "I would hope I know a lot about it. I'm the one that prepared it." It felt a bit too much like bragging to admit that, but he wanted to brag. He wanted to show off. He couldn't help but to practically swell with pride at the fact that she was interested in learning it and that she had wanted to come back to see more - not even specifically that she had wanted to come back and see him, although he hoped that was the case - but he had inspired her to want to come and see more. "I find most children do, for varying reasons." At least the three with her had been well behaved. Maybe a little fussy towards the end, but they had been young. Young children always grew fussy after awhile. He watched her eyes widen at his question and she raised her hands up to wave them, stating that they weren't her's and that she was a nanny. He knew he shouldn't feel so terribly relieved but he did. He only just stopped himself from giving a sigh of relief. "Ah, I see. That's good to know then." He could have kicked himself for that. It sounded so uninterested and so rude, too. He would have dated her if she had children - if she were single and they were both interested - but she didn't know that.

Tristan continued to hold her hand for a moment as he watched her, watched her cheeks color somewhat and then she responded in kind to him. "Oh, I dare say there's not too much that's regal about it. It means something along the lines of 'noisy' you know," he told her with a small smile. He was pleased to hear her complimenting his name, of course. The person who researched everything within him, however, couldn't just let it go at that. Besides, his name really didn't mean too much. At least Brook was, obviously, based off of an actual brook and those were lovely things. "Lovely. I'm glad to hear it." And he was. He was glad she was here to see him - most likely anyways - but his professional pride was also pleased to hear that she was back here to learn more. The blond continued to hold his arm out to her and, for a brief few seconds, he thought that she might not take it. But then she reached out and wrapped her arm around his own. It was a snug hold - not too tight, but definitely not loose - and he all but beamed down at her. "Nothing would please me more than to give you all the time in the world." And he meant it. He felt as if he could stand here like this for days if that was what was needed... he loved his chosen profession, he loved his chosen topics and he was finding that he loved the feel of her resting so close to him. It all added up to a nice package. He paused for a moment as she actually beamed at him and he felt the full force of that smile turned onto him. He turned the both of them just a little bit as he walked her a little more into the exhibit. "Well, not to talk about myself, but my main focus in my research and study has been the early 1900s and that's why the exhibit focuses there. The research and history of food is a relatively new sort of field but it's important. Food is so important to culture and is so different between even the borders of a few cities rather than an entire state or country. You can learn so much about people from the foods they prepare, how they prepared them and if there were any ceremony involved with the food. I find it fascinating. I always have."
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Brook Walker
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Had there ever been a more sweet man? She didn't think in New York City, anyway. Maybe in smaller towns or places outside of America, but America itself seemed to hinge on the idea that you made your own mess. Or maybe that was just her mother? Her mother had always been very in the camp of 'you made this bed'. If Brook had gotten startled, it was Brook's fault for not paying attention. After all, she was a young, fairly attractive woman – they should always be on the look out for danger. She should just be lucky it was somebody she wanted to notice her and not some bum off the street. "<b>I'd be worried if it <i>was</i> your intention,</b>" she tried teasing. They could make a case, she supposed, for the fact if they got to know each other better it would be a different story. If they were friends – or more – there was a bit of playfulness that went up on sneaking up behind people, right? She personally didn't understand...but she couldn't deny that she had participated in that kind of thing too. She had done it to Denny and Everitt a lot over the years. Just crept up behind them and grabbed their sides or smacked her hands down on their shoulders and bounced up while she laughed hysterically over how much they panicked. She smiled, giving a small shake of her head. "<b>No harm at all, I'm a lot more awake now too!</b>" She laughed. She was glad she had ended it at that because it would have been easy to add that she had come to see him, so there could never be a harm in anything he did. Sure that could change the more she got to know him, but she didn't think so. Or maybe it was more accurate to say she really hoped he didn't prove her wrong.
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She ran her hands over her ponytail, watching him and wondering if she wasn't watching him too much. She tried to remember what all the girls use to say when she was in high school. Act like you don't care, they said. Act like you're too good for them and the men would come panting at your feet. The problem with that was that sounded awfully...mean to her. That sounded hurtful and realistically speaking, it sounded like it was an idea for people who didn't want one boy's attention, but just attention. Had there been anymore advice? Talk about things he liked? Did she make eye contact or did she shyly look away every so often? She tried to remember magazines and movies and how the girls would flutter their eyes but it seemed weird to her. "<b>Well, maybe? I just always looked at it as the information always was there, but we're discovering that too.</b>" Because people were going on and on about the newest discoveries and how much it meant to the scientific world...but it was very rarely that they just created something out of nothing. "<b>Hey, you'd be surprised how many times we have to go back too. But I will say history was always really fascinating to me. Everyone says it's just because I like to read, though.</b>" People found it odd that she liked reading text books and long biographies, but...she had always found them a lot more fascinating because those sorts of things really happened. People complained about their lives and world not being interesting, but had they ever looked? "<b>You did?</b>" she couldn't quite keep the surprise out of her voice. Only after she said it did she realize that it could have been considered insulting, like she didn't think he was capable of it. "<b>It's just so,</b>" she stopped to search for the word because 'amazing' was getting thrown around enough to lose its meaning. She wanted to show that she was listening and <i>was</i> impressed. "<b>It must have been so time consuming! The amount of research you must have put into it alone...</b>" And that was admirable, that was something she could understand. That was...was it too soon to say that was so him? She hardly even knew him, but he had this air of someone who was dedicated and saw things through. "<b>I hope theirs was a good one.</b>" She had always considered them good kids. They had their moments when they got fussy or bratty, when they just couldn't get along with each other or they were moody and simply nothing would fix that mood except going to bed. But they were sweet, they liked her and they listened to her and they had made her job so much easier. Really, the biggest issue she had had with them was the fact that there were three of them and only one of her. She beamed as he relaxed a little. "<b>I imagine that would have been a pretty intense thing to think about.</b>" Because she was young and the idea of having three kids that young...She wanted to say she didn't even know for sure if she wanted kids yet, that she wanted to finish school and getting rid of some of the debt before she thought about kids. The problem with that would be that that would be the moment he awkwardly said he wasn't interested and had been only being nice.
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She was surely red as a tomato at this point as he held her hand longer. "<b>We're a pair then, aren't we?</b>" she laughed, "<b>Because I'm pretty sure I got the name Brook because I babble like one.</b>" It was Denny's favorite thing to talk about. He had sounded so oddly <i>proud</i> that Brook had babbled before everyone else, that maybe she hadn't been speaking words but she was trying to have conversations. It made her just a bit sad, though, because it was her older brother who was proud, not her parents. "<b>I especially want to learn more because you did it.</b>" She had meant it in a way that she wanted to know more because someone young had worked on it, because she wanted to know the process and his <i>feelings</i> on it, not just information. Only after she said it did she realize that it could have been taken as a flirt, that she sounded like she meant it because it was <i>him</i>. It wasn't wrong but it wasn't the whole reason either. She smiled all the more as he said nothing would please him more. "<b>Careful, you're going to wind up giving me a full tour of this place and telling me every little detail if you mean that.</b>" That was actually kind of an exciting thought. A museum tour guide, just think! Really the only ones that had "guides" were all the kids stuff and that was because parents didn't know anymore than their kids sometimes. But she would have loved to have one to walk around with her, point things out and talk about it. She trailed next to him, hugging onto his arm as he said that his research focused on the 1900s. "<b>I never thought of food as being something people would study. It's just...food, isn't it? Not to be disrespectful, but I guess I just...didn't think about it that way.</b>" Because when she thought history, she thought of battles and love and clothing and books. Not...food.
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Tristan Bloom

"Well, you can quell your worries," he told her honestly. Not that he precisely thought that she was suspecting him of doing it on purpose but, well, he didn't want her to have even an inkling of the thought. If he were honest, he had never much seen the point of scaring people in the first place. Maybe to sneak up behind someone and put your hands over their eyes? That was always something minor and cute, in his opinion, but outright frightening someone? That just seemed rude to him and also potentially dangerous. The other person could react negatively and hurt you or, God forbid, if they had some sort of condition you could trigger it. Then a harmless little joke might turn into something different, it could even potentially turn into something fatal all because you thought to have a bit of a laugh. That was the last thing he wanted with anyone, but especially with her. It would be quite hard to try and pursue things with her if he had, say, triggered some sort of seizure or unknown heart condition out of thoughtlessness. He couldn't help but to respond to her smile with one of his own as he watched her practically bouncing before him, proving that she was most definitely fine and not in the least bit bothered by the fact that he had startled her. Her words startled a laugh out of him as well, but he cut it off earlier than he might normally have simply just to hear her own lovely laugh continue along. "Well, sometimes one must take the small bit of bad to get to the good beneath it, I suppose," he offered up with a smile. He was sure she was just saying that mostly for his benefit, so that he wouldn't feel too bad about what he had inadvertently done, but he was still pleased nonetheless.

The problem with all of this was the simple fact that Tristan wasn't sure what was going to be acceptable or not. His flirting skills weren't the best and he neither wanted to come across as too heavy handed or as not interested in the least. How long could he watch her smile and her eyes, watch the corners of her mouth as she talked or the way that she bounced just a little on her feet as she idled, without it coming off as being uncomfortable and creepy? How often could he turn his gaze away from her before it looked as if he were bored with the conversation and not the least bit interested in her? Not for the first time did he wish that he had maybe paid a little more attention in college to girls and a little less to reading and researching. He tilted his head to the side a little as he considered her words. "I suppose one could view it in that way. What I meant was more that those in your fields might be discovering something that has existed since the dawn of time, but they're looking to harness it in some manner, aren't they? Energy, research, how it might improve the human life while my side of the equation, so to speak, is about reading and researching about what had happened and then simply telling that story. One could argue that you might use that information to change something in the present, of course, but many branches are just looking to preserve what was rather than thinking of what might be." It was a long response to such a simple few sentences, but that was Tristan altogether. Back in college, he had been quite fond of having long discussions with his classmates, with his friends, and they had wiled away the nights several times over a few pints while talking about history back and forth. At least Kingsley had soured and asked if they could please talk about something science related for once. He offered up a small smile that grew just a bit wider as she admitted that she liked to read. "Ah, I love to read as well! I've been told perhaps a bit too much but, well, a part of that is my job." Of course, it wasn't quite his job to read things such as Dickens and the like but, well, he still did. It could even be argued that he was looking for talks of culinary traditions within the pieces if someone really wanted to argue it. Tristan felt himself becoming more flustered than he had been in a long time as the young woman questioned what he had said and then went on to say that it must have taken a long time with such an awed and adoring sort of tone. He might just be blushing, honestly. "It's my job to do that research, but it's also my passion. I find it fascinating although I will admit that it did take quite some time." After all, he had to compile it, get an exhibit approved, and then they had to work out how to set it up. It wasn't something that happened or was decided on overnight. "Well, I think it was," he said. "I must admit that my main focus was upon you." The words slipped out and he hoped she wouldn't take offense to them. It had been the truth. He had noticed the children, of course, but he couldn't fully tell you how well behaved they had or had not been at this point in time. "I imagine it would be a challenge, at the very least," he said, probably the only thing he could say in regards to that which didn't sound overly rude or haughty. In addition to not wanting to scare her away, he certainly didn't want to offend her either.

"But the sound of brooks are a lovely thing to listen to, didn't you know? I think I would be quite pleased to listen to this one, too," he told her. For a moment, he was absolutely floored at his own words because that had - was that actually smooth? Had he actually managed a flirt that was something more than 'oh, you mean me?' in response to someone's words? He wouldn't say that he couldn't be smooth but, well, it was just not his general forte. It was the truth, though. He had listened to streams and brooks and the like and it was a lovely sound... and Brook's voice was a lovely thing to listen to. It was his turn to blush somewhat as Brook announced that she wanted to learn more because he had been the one to be responsible for the exhibit. He didn't think, out of the few women he had dated, any had been that overly interested in his work. It had always been cursory interest that had quickly waned but Brook seemed positively excited. "I do mean that. Nothing would please me more than to show you everything although I think my preference might be to have your praise heaped upon my own work," he told her, honestly. He felt himself swell a little with pride as they walked into the exhibit, as he felt her tighten her hold around his arm and lean against him just a little bit. It was almost enough to make him miss her words because he was so focused on how nice it felt to have her there. "As I said, it's a recent sort of branch. But just think about it... why does one corner of a country call a food item one thing and the other call the exact same item something different? Why does one recipe have so many variations even within one small section of a state here? Food is our life, quite literally, but it is more than that. Food is our history. What did they eat on the battlefield of Waterloo? What was served at King Henry the eight's table? What did ancient Egyptians eat? What did the public enemies of the 20s and 30s eat on the run? What meals separated and brought together people from different walks of life and even different eras? Food is our culture and our history and it binds us all together." He couldn't stop himself from growing more impassioned as he went on. He hadn't been lying. This sort of thing was his passion, his lifelong interest; it was fascinating to him and he wanted to share it with the world. He wanted to share it with her.
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Brook Walker
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"<b>I'm glad,</b>" she said easily. And she was. God wouldn't it have been just her luck if he had turned out to be one of those men that liked to scare people...but it would have had to had the added benefit of him adding 'it was just a joke'. She had met a lot of guys like that. They always said things like 'it was just a joke' when she didn't seem amused or seemed actually horrified; then they put it on <i>her</i> for being upset and offended. It was her own fault because she couldn't take a joke and it was her own fault for ruining what was a perfectly good date. But him...she was glad he was different (so far). He had seemed so sweet the other day, actually paying some minor attention to the children when it was called for, and talking to her...she didn't know what she would have done if he had proven to be a jerk. Probably she would have shut down the conversation, sighed to herself and walked away. She didn't have time for someone who was mean or cruel, she didn't have time to try and "change" someone. Everitt always snorted and said what was the point of trying to change someone, if they had behavior you didn't like, they were going to revert to those habits eventually again anyway. And she was selfishly grateful because if he had been the sort of person to <i>want</i> to scare people, she wouldn't have been able to enjoy his smile or his laugh nearly as much. She lifted her hands in a tiny shrug. "<b>Bad times are just times that are bad, right?</b>" she questioned. It was one of the things she constantly told herself in an effort to keep from letting herself get down, to keep herself from going down the road she had seen Everitt and Denny go down.
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She knew Everitt would have laughed if he could watch her now. He would have laughed as she struggled and laughed as she smacked his arm to tell him to stop. She supposed in its own way it was kind of funny how easy it was to talk to this man, but flirting when she really wanted to was impossible. "<b>Mmm I suppose we try to harness it. It's a lot of back and forth, I think. It's a lot of trying to find new ways to invent the wheel, but it's also just understanding how the wheel works or making the wheel work better than it did previously. I always thought history needed a lot more dedication. A lot more...liking to find things out or being patient with unraveling things.</b>" Though that could be said about science too, that a scientist had to be patient and put up with continual failures. But history was a lot of unearthing, a lot of following trails and being willing to listen to something that might not have anything to do with what they were trying to figure out. "<b>I don't think there <i>is</i> such a thing as reading too much, who would say that?</b>" She'd been told that when she had been little by children on the playground, always had her nose in a book. It had been the kids that thought it was so weird because they had other things to do. They didn't understand that books were one of the only things her mom had ever given her freely. She had hardly really paid it any mind, though, because she had all ready been an oddball to the world. She watched him, watched the way he almost blushed, but it mostly just brought color to his face. "<b>that kind of dedication...it's really admirable. Because I know even if it's a passion, that can get pretty tiresome too.</b>" She had known that first hand as well. She had to carry it often enough when work had been piling up so much and she had gotten frustrated and it just all...didn't seem to be going her way at all. It was a passion, sure, but sometimes when things were passions, it made everything worse. It made you stop and think 'I'm suppose to love this' and instead you were angry. It made you question if it was your passion to begin with. Or maybe that had just been her. Maybe that was just her being a student rather than having graduated and in her field of choice like he was. She had a moment of relief when he said that the impression the kids had given off was a good one. She always worried about that; people always seemed so divided about kids and no matter what happened, whatever they did always confirmed their stance. She would have hated for the kids to have given off the vibe of being little hellions, because that wasn't them, that wasn't them in the slightest. But all thoughts of the kids derailed as soon as he said that his focus had been on her. Her face heated up, flushing brightly she was sure. "<b>O-oh,</b>" her hand went up to her ponytail, twirling through the hair. Had anyone ever told her that before? Maybe, but she had never <i>noticed</i> before. She was far too aware of it now. "<b>Seeing as how I take care of those kids, I can assure you it would be a challenge. I don't think I would have been able to handle it if I didn't get to leave at the end of the day.</b>" Because they were good kids, very sweet, but there were three of them and they were all under three. That was tiring for one person.
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"<b>Brooks are nice, but I don't think people ever mean that people <i>named</i> Brook sound nice,</b>" she pointed out. It had always been an insult when she had been younger. Babbling Brook who couldn't stop talking and her nervousness always made her talk more. Babbling Brook never paid attention when people wanted her to stop. Babbling Brook was never going to be a relaxing sound in nature. But then Tristan spoke again, saying that he would be pleased to listen to her. "<b>Oh,</b>" she found herself saying again. "<b>I...ah, I'll try not to abuse it so you come to regret saying that.</b>" She didn't know what else to say, she didn't think she had ever felt this way before. She felt flustered and curious at the same time, bouncing between being stopped short and engaging on whatever topic he brought up. She laughed slightly as Tristan went on to say that he would be pleased to show her around more, but he preferred the praise for himself. "<b>Don't worry, I think I have more than enough awe for your stuff.</b>" Because she had gone through the museum multiple times; some of the cards she could recite by heart because she had looked at them so often. But Tristan's was new and exciting and...he had made it. It was his. That was impressive in and of itself. She watched him as he spoke. The words made a kind of sense, one of those things she could understand the importance, though maybe not <i>the</i> importance of it. But more than that, she watched his face light up, as he seemed to just brighten as he spoke each word. "<b>I never really thought about it like that,</b>" she found herself responding. "<b>I mean, you always just think a meal is just a meal, right? I can understand why it's just only coming up...What made you even think of it as an interest, though?</b>" She didn't think it would be because he liked food, would it? Most people she knew that said they liked food became chefs or something, not historians.
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Tristan Bloom

"I don't much see the fun in it, to be honest. Neither did any of my mates back home." Em had always detested it and Kingsley had just looked sour. Tristan couldn't say that he, himself, was a jumpy man but he didn't like the feeling of his heart racing either. There was always one guy in a group who thought it was hilarious - even more so when everyone was out at a pub and had a few pints in them. Tristan didn't like it and he didn't like people doing it to others around him either. Furthermore, he most certainly didn't want to scare this young lady off. He had a feeling that she didn't much like it either - did anyone really like it if they were the one being scared, honestly? - and she might very well want nothing to do with him if he did it. Which, honestly, he commended her for. Not that he would probably see it that way if he were one of those people but, well, he wasn't so he could look at it from this point of view. "That's a very good way of looking at it. And the bad times are sure to pass eventually in all things." Maybe that was a tad bit optimistic but it was true. The hard part was when you had a multitude of bad times that piled up on you. Then it was hard to see that there could be good again. He liked her outlook - it seemed to somewhat match up with his own. He tried to brush away the thought that it meant of course they would be wonderful for one another. He was adult enough and level headed enough to know that just meant that one small view of theirs matched up. That didn't mean everything did.

Tristan just tilted his head to the side for a moment as she seemed to consider his words. "I suppose it can be broken down into different subsets when you really look at it. Some scientists are trying to reinvent the wheel, others are trying to discover how the wheel works and others are more concerned with what the wheel can do. Just as some historians want the research and others want the lectures, some of them don't want to sit still and so they become archaeologists instead. I wouldn't say it needed more dedication. Perhaps more a tendency to enjoy digging deep into old books that might bore someone to find a nugget of information that can be expanded upon?" He offered up a slight smile along with the words, showing that it was a tiny bit of a tease but that he was mostly serious in his words, too. "I suppose in the end you might say that historians are more concerned with people in general while scientists are more concerned with something that affects people?" That was perhaps leaving it a bit simplistic but he thought it made at least some bit of sense. Of course, he had very little experience in the realms of science. The most personal experience he had was Kingsley and he had been focused on biology and not on other sciences. He paused for a moment and then brightened as she said that she didn't think there was such a thing as reading too much. "Ah, a woman after my own heart!" His words were bright and cheerful and he felt them fully. "Teachers and family, if you can believe it. I was always with a nose buried in a book when I was a kid." Granted, his family had mostly been okay with it but there had been plenty of times that one or both of his parents or grandparents had told him to go outside for a bit. "It can but... do you know, I don't think I can remember more than perhaps once or twice that I've ever felt tired and frustrated with my job?" It was a rarity, he knew. Oh, he had days where he was tired or sick and he didn't want to do anything but... he had never once lost his passion for his job. He had never once hated his job. He knew it was a rarity though. He knew that many people hated their jobs or had no passion for it. He equally knew that passion didn't mean you loved your job all the time. It just meant that it was much easier to ignore the bad and keep on going on the hard days. He watched as color tinged her cheeks and she almost shyly brought a hand up to play with a few strands of her hair. He gave a small laugh at her words. "Sometimes that's the best thing about watching another person's children. If you're not in the mood for it then you give them back." He wondered, though, if she wanted children. He wondered if he did.

"Well, I quite like the sound of this person named Brook," he heard himself say yet again. He knew that in terms of actual flirting and being smooth he was maybe a bit heavy handed. Yet this was better than he usually did. Maybe it was because he was actually showing interest rather than someone having to pull his nose out of a book to tell him that they were interested. Maybe he had just needed a reason to want to exercise those skills. He gave her another smile. "I don't think you will have cause to worry about that." Maybe it was far too soon to be saying that. Still, Tristan was enjoying the sound of her voice. He was enjoying her company. Right now, he could hardly imagine regretting getting to spend even a few moments listening to her talk. He tried to stop himself from flushing at the melodic laugh and at the way that she said she had more than enough awe for his own things. "I'm glad to hear it. It... would please me, I think, to know that you've enjoyed yourself greatly." It would more than please him, honestly. He wanted her to really like it, to praise him, to know that she thought his was the best. After a moment or two, Tristan came back to himself. He was slightly abashed, though not fully. "Ah, you see, it really is my passion. I do tend to go on at length about it." There had been times before where even Em had asked to switch the subject after awhile. Tristan just had a tendency to keep going until someone decided to switch things. "Most people don't think about it. They just accept that it's a thing and continue on." He paused for a moment, considering her question. "I remember as a child reading all these stories and there were always mentions of food. Some of them in great details. And, sometimes, I remember we would eat something similar to what I had read about. The more I read, the more curious I became. Then it was learning about the differences in food cultures and in dishes and in preparations and I'm afraid it became a bit of an obsession." He gave her a small smile. "What made you interested in your own field?"
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Brook Walker
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"<b>I'm glad,</b>" she said truthfully, honestly. It would have tainted so much, though she supposed the worst that would have happened was she would make her excuses and go home. "<b>I'm glad your friends don't like it either, because it always seems like there's one person.</b>" And when it was your friend, it was harder to say knock it off. If it was your friend, you usually kept quiet or you made a soft laugh because you didn't want to rock the boat but you didn't want to encourage it either. It was one of the things she worried with with the kids she watched. Oh their parents always said that their kids would know better, their kids wouldn't get tangled up in that, they've told their kids countless times that it wasn't nice to be mean to others and if your friends decided it was funny, then they weren't really your friends. Brook liked to think of herself as an optimist, but she was also a realist. It had gotten her a lot of teasing from her brothers when she said she really hoped for the best, which always lead to them adding something along the lines of what would more realistically happen and then practically cackling as she said that it was just real life. The fact of the matter was that that her kids' parents could tell them it wasn't nice to be mean to people, but when it came down to it, who knew what they'd decide. They might really like their friends, they might not understand what was so mean about what was being done, they might just find that it suited them. It all depended. She smiled as he said it was a good way of looking at it. "<b>It's what keeps me going most days. Otherwise...</b>" Otherwise she was afraid she would fall into the same trap that her parents had. She didn't want to become this bitter woman who thought all of her problems were caused by things that she could control and that when things still didn't work out, she needed to try harder. She didn't want to become like her father, who had drunk all his problems away and they always came back sober.
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"<b>That sounds like dedication to me,</B>" she teased. The way she saw it, dedication was always going to be dedication, whether one enjoyed it or not. Because there was the fact that even when you enjoyed something, there were parts that got frustrating or tiring. You enjoyed your work at a job, but there were one or two factors that just constantly grated on your nerves. Or you loved researching but it got tiresome to keep searching when you found nothing. At least that was Brook's opinion on the matter because there had been times when she had been studying for a test or for her homework and she had gotten tired. She loved the work she did, but it was just...daunting and sometimes she wanted to set it aside but she kept going because she was dedicated to it. "<b>I can see that,</b>" she agreed with a small smile. "<b>It definitely sounds right.</b>" It was probably just because no one really compared scientists and historians. She wasn't even entirely sure that she had heard many jokes about the two even hating each other. They just were two very different things that were concerned with their own tasks, what did a scientist need to know of history? What did a historian need to know of science? But that just made her think that of course they needed each other. A scientist needed to know what had worked, what hadn't, what ideals had been held and a historian needed to know what kind of tools ancient people might have had or what they might have thought was behind the reasoning of this or that process. Or maybe she was grasping at straws because she wanted them to have a connection somehow. She smiled as he seemed to brighten, as he said he took after him. "<b>Really? What kind of teachers and family did you have?</b>" she teased lightly. For her, it had always been different. The fellow students had always given her a hard time for reading too much. The teachers had just been grateful she had been quiet and her parents...well, her parents were just kind of there. "<b>Oh, that's so good!</b>" she found herself saying excitedly, "<b>That's really impressive! I wish I could say the same, but...The fact that you love it so much is impressive these days.</b>" Everyone seemed unhappy at their jobs these days, everyone seemed to sigh to themselves and found their dream job wasn't what they wanted. She had seen it in Everitt, seen how proud and happy he had been to be a cop, how much the others had liked him...it had all burned out fast enough. Granted, it was also because of the death of his kid and wife, but those kinds of things tainted just as badly as realizing you weren't happy anymore. She smiled a little as he laughed, as he commented. "<b>They're good kids, just three of them is a bit much. I don't know if I could have that many personally.</b>" Even as she said it, she mentally winced. It sounded as if she were trying to convince him they had a life they might not have yet. It sounded like she was planning out their life entirely.
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When Tristan said that he liked the sound of a person named Brook, she felt her face warm up more. She could practically hear Denny and Everitt teasing her, asking her where her cool was that she was being flattered by someone. "<b>I quite like the sound of this person named Tristan too,</b>" she offered. It was probably not the best line, not really as flirty as the one he had offered, but it was all she could do. "<b>you say that now, but just you wait until I get started.</b>" She laughed after that, lifting her hand to toy with her ponytail again. She felt horribly awkward, but maybe it was working? At least he was being polite enough that he wasn't trying to get away as fast as he could, that was something. When he flushed a little, when he said what he did, Brook's heart started beating faster, so fast that she was sure everyone could hear it. "<b>I'm all ready enjoying myself greatly, so we're off to a good start.</b>" and it was true. It was stupidly true, though she felt she should have said something more cool, something more...maybe distant or relaxed. But she was enjoying this, enjoying talking to him and listening to him and throw in history and she was pretty content. "<b>I like hearing about a person's passion. It makes me happy because people never look happier then when they talk about it.</b>" It was nice to see because the world was so...maybe not dark, but colorless. People talked about their jobs as a means to an end, but nothing seemed to make them happy anymore. She listened to Tristan, not regretting the fact that she had said it because listening to him now...she liked that he was curious, she liked that he had found his answers and even more questions in books. "<b>It sounds interesting,</b>" she put in, "<b>More thought then I ever would have had for it, but when you talk about it like that, it's something I'd like to know about.</b>" She didn't add that she would prefer if he told her because that sounded like she was just in it for his attention. It wasn't completely untrue, but she didn't want him to think she <i>didn't</i> have an interest. "<b>Oh, well. I read a lot as a kid, remember? Every book I could get, I would read, even when it was one of my brothers' text books from school. It just happened that science was something that caught my eye...it was one of the few places I felt challenged and I liked working through that challenge.</b>"
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Tristan Bloom

"I'm glad, too," he said honestly. He had loved meeting Emory and Kingsley in college. He had loved talking with them, going out for drinks with them, learning about what Kingsley was studying versus what they were studying. He had gotten on with their senses of humor and their ideals for the most part. It would have been such a shame if one of them had been a bully or someone who liked to "joke" around in ways that weren't particularly jokey. He vaguely remembered Kingsley's brother - his twin, actually - and the way that he had acted. He was more of that type and Tristan had always been very glad that he hadn't really seemed interested in hanging around with Kingsley when he and Em were in attendance. It was one thing to dismiss someone who was annoying. It was another to point out to your friend that you disliked their brother for being a bit of an ass. Thankfully, it hadn't really come up. Tristan tilted his head to the side a little, looking at the young woman as she spoke and said that sometimes that thought was all that kept her going. He gave her a small, gentle smile. "I think, for many people, that's what keeps them going. I know I have my days as well." Some people, he knew, had more than others. Some people their bad days dragged on and on. Tristan was lucky in that, usually, he had very good days. Maybe it was because he loved his job so much that it made his life better or, maybe, he had just been lucky. Perhaps a combination of this and other things. He just knew that, usually, after a day or two of the bad he could shake it off and focus. He hoped it was similar for this young woman. "It's good that it keeps you going as well," he added in with another of those small, heartfelt smiles.

"I believe there's an old saying about just this sort of thing, isn't there? You say tomato and I say tomato," he made sure to put a different inflection on the word, showing exactly what he meant. He was smiling at her even as she teased him, teasing her right back. It was nice, he found. He didn't feel overwhelmed by her teasing nor did he feel hurt. He felt... content with it, as if it was just a bit of familiar banter between the two of them. He supposed it could be viewed as dedication. It could also be viewed as just love and passion, however. It all depended on the way that someone thought about those different words, in essence. He felt his heart do a tiny flip in his chest as she gave him a small smile. It wasn't a bright thing, but it made his stomach churn with butterflies nonetheless. She might just be bad for his health if he kept reacting in this way. "Sometimes, the paths seem to cross. Other times... well, we are all in our own little worlds." He had heard of plenty of scientists in different fields who didn't get along. He had also heard of plenty of historians and scientists at odds with one another, too. It just seemed that no one could ever agree on anything, even in so-called high intelligence careers. Tristan, for his part, had always enjoyed talking to other historians, archaeologists, scientists and the like. It was fascinating to him. Tristan gave a laugh at her tease. "Tristan, go outside and do something. Tristan, why don't you go for a ride, it's a lovely day. Tristan, get your nose out of the book we're in a lecture," he said the words in a way that made it obvious that he was quoting from past experiences. "My grandfather, however, seemed thrilled at my desire for books and I spent much time with him. Tristan smiled at the young woman's excited statement. "Perhaps you will one day," he told her. He liked to believe that everyone had that chance. Maybe it would never happen, but the chance was there to at least try for it. Tristan was quiet for a few seconds before he shook his head. "I can't imagine having children at all. Not that I don't like them, I do. I just can't mentally put myself in the role of a parent. At least, not right now. Perhaps one day, though." Children honestly confused him a little bit but, at the same time, he liked them. When he thought of himself as a father, though, it was just a blankness. Perhaps because he had no reason to imagine himself as a father when he had no girlfriend or wife.

Tristan watched Brook as her face turned a light pink. When she spoke, he felt his own face heat up lightly as she said that she quite liked the sound of him. He honestly hadn't expected her to reverse it onto him and he wasn't quite sure what to say to that. He had never been a man with all the words to charm someone. "Ah... I'm glad you do," he managed, knowing that he sounded far too flustered for such a simple little statement but oh, he liked hearing it from her. He liked the knowledge that she liked the sound of him. "I can think of nothing more enjoyable at the moment," he told her, honestly. Her own voice was lovely, her accent was so different from what he was used to, and there was just something about the pitch and tone of her voice that he enjoyed listening to. "I, ah... I am very glad to hear it. I only hope you continue to do so." His stomach practically fluttered again and did a quick lurch as she said she was enjoying herself. God, if he could just keep her interest, not bore her; if he could do well now that he was actually interested in someone and not bore her to tears. "As I said, it's something not many people think about. It's only a very recent sort of branch of history research, you know. So, in a way, it's always been there and yet now it's something new to discover. And... I think it's something we should because food is our heritage, deep down. It's a way of discovering about people and how they have changed and yet always been the same. I will always be willing to help you learn more about it." And he meant it. It could be seen as a flirt, but he meant it as more than that. He loved talking about his passion and letting people learn about it as well. He listened for a moment before he nodded his head with a smile. "I guess it was meant to be? We picked out our own careers from before we even really knew what careers were all thanks to the fact that we couldn't keep our noses out of books." It was a wonderful thing, really, he felt. He paced forward a little, leading Brook forward into the exhibit more, practically swelling with pride at his bringing her into something that he had worked so hard to create. He only hoped she enjoyed it.
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