fandomtownies | The Perkolator: Sunday evening.

The Perkolator: Sunday evening.

Duce heads into The Perk, holding hands with Oz. After assessing the menu, she orders something that sounds distressingly froofroo and European. A momentary consideration is given to the bakery selection before she adds some sort of scary, sinful, decadent chocolate thing to the list. Giving Oz an amused look, she chirps, "And how are you caffeinating yourself this evening?"

Her mood is positively bouyant. She's beaming at everything and everyone, and even the snakes are writhing gleefully. She hasn't been this obviously jubilant since.. well.. since the day of the zombie attack.

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Oz hasn't ever been to the Perk, so he takes a few minutes to peruse the menu. He finally settles on something with caramel and whipped cream, and a cinnamon bun thing to compliment it.

He likes seeing Duce so...happy. It's contageous, and he's smiling too.

Duce gives Oz's drink a grin when it arrives, "You and Jake..caramel fiends!" Grabbing the drinks, she leaves him to schlep the pastries and finds an unoccupied table. "So what'd you end up doing while I was out drinking myself into a stupor last night?"

Oz shrugs as he drops into the chair. "Not much. Played my guitar, wrote a song." He shrugs a second time and takes a sip of his drink.

"You wrote a song? Oz, that's awesome!" Duce burbles at him, bouncing on her seat a little. "Is it for that class thing, or did you just do it for fun?"

Taking a deep slug of her drink, the heat apparently not bothering her, she begins picking apart her chocolate monstrosity into bite-sized pieces.

"Not for class." He quirks a smirky sort of smile at her. "Definitely not for class."

Popping a bite of chocolate sin into her mouth, she munches and regards Oz thoughtfully, still bouncing. "So is this one of those things I have to tickle you until you tell me, or are you gonna 'fess up on your own?" She slurps her drink and adds, "You're giving me the 'I know something you don't know and I'm not telling' smirk. That's a class 3 tickling offense if I ever saw one."

"You wouldn't be ticked off if you knew what I wrote. I wrote it for you."

"Wouldn't be ticked off at you for writing a song, ever. Would tickle you for not telling me what it was about, though. But now you did, so I won't torture you." She pouts slightly at that, but only for a moment. Grinning, she bounces and takes another drink. She somehow manages to coordinate the two activities so she doesn't spill scalding coffee on her anywhere. "You wrote a song for me? You know I'm'a drag you back to the house after this and make you play it for me, right? Cuz now I totally wanna hear it."

Beaming him another 100-watt smile, she munches another bit of chocolate pastry.

"I would expect no less," Oz grins back at her.

"Just don't ask me to sing it now, because I'm'a not gonna do it without my guitar."

"You play guitar and you sing?" Duce asks, admiringly. Bouncing from side to side on her seat, she coordinates another slurp of coffee. The caffeine is probably not helping her hyperness any. Or, rather, it's probably helping it all too well. "You didn't miss much at the party. I had some interesting conversations with people about the nature of death, and talked to Jake about Alex." Her mood dims a bit as she says that, but like a cloud passing over the sun, she's quickly back to bright and bubbly, "He liked my birthday gift. And then I drank rather alot, and somehow made it home. Don't remember that part, really."

Shrugging and unconcerned, she nibbles on another bit of pastry and abruptly makes a "Raawr" monster noise and covers one of Oz's shoes with the bottom of her boot.

Oz's other foot moves up to rub her leg.

"If I'd known you were gonna get drunk, I might have gone out just to bring you home. But, I do appreciate the warning, I don't think I would have enjoyed it at all."

Duce captures his foot between her shins. "Gotcha! There's no escape!" Giggling slightly, she shakes her head, setting the snake writhing to compensate for the gesture, "You totally wouldn't have enjoyed it. Too many people, too loud. Hadn't planned on getting smashed, but Logan doesn't joke around with his alcohol. At least I don't get horrible hangovers."

"Oz," she laughs at him, "I'm almost done with my pastry and you haven't even touched yours! Would you eat that already so I can drag you off and make you play guitar for me?"

Oz tugged a pice off the end of his pastry and popped it in his mouth.

"I'm a slow eater." He said, over a mouthful of cinnamon.

One wouldn't normally think coffeeshop chairs could be that springy, but Duce seems to be managing just fine. "OH! Callisto asked me to be in her fashion show thing she's got going on. Apparently she's showcasing leatherwear. I said I'd help out. Not sure I'm gonna model, but Faith thought maybe I should, so.. dunno. But you have to go, because if I do, I'll need the moral support."

"Of course I'd go, sweetheart." Oz reached across the table for her hand, Hoping to subtly settle her bouncing, he linked his fingers in hers.

Duce winds her fingers with his, gently running her thumb over the back of his hand in a gentle caress. Her skin is cool against his, even though she's wearing heavier clothing. Chewing on another bite of chocolate, she asks curiously, "What's with this 'sweetheart' thing lately? Not that I mind, but you kinda are starting to sound like my father, and that makes me feel a little funny."

(ooc: and I'm watching the buffy ep where Willow casts the spell to get over Oz.. ow.)

"Woud you prefer sugar knees or baby cakes? I don't know. I like sweetheart. And I don't mean it quite the way your father does."

Duce laughs, wrinkling her nose, "Prefer sweetheart to the other two. You aren't serious, are you? And," she's serious for a moment, "you couldn't possibly mean it the way Pater does. You fail to strike me as a sadistic, manipulative, son of a bitch." Trying to lighten the mood, she munches another bite of chocolate and grins, "I've been known to be wrong before. Just .. don't think I am."

"You're not wrong. It's a term of endearment. At least, when I use it for you." Oz smiled and took her hand in his. "Come on. let's go home. I want you to hear my song."

Duce finishes off her coffee and bounces to her feet, giving Oz's fingers a squeeze. "Yay! Songage! You realize that if you're going to call me sweetheart, I'm going to find something equally as gushy to call you, right?"

She follows him out, still beaming.

(ooc: no, you popcorners get no singing mushyness tonight. Oz's about to fall off the world. Neeners.)

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The Perkolator: Sunday evening.

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