Dite's Decadent Delights | Wednesday

[begmetwice]

One of Irene's greatest pleasures in life, in the midst of all that nosiness and sex and luxury-spending, was reading. And while usually she'd rather spend her shift poking around on her mobile if she didn't have an actual task to do, the news was disappointing today. (And all about celebrities Irene didn't know personally, which made her feel quite old.)

So instead, she was posted up behind the counter, Louboutins discarded on the floor and feet up on the countertop as she allowed herself to become absorbed in her reading.

Even if it was throwing her off like mad that this gent had a porkpie hat in space. That was a very silly detail.

[Irene's reading what I'm reading, but I'm trying to get over his hat, too. open with the usual SP warnings!]

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[pocketpretzels]

At some point in the afternoon, Watts made his way into the shop.

“Good afternoon, Miss Adler,” he greeted, placing his hat down… somewhere inappropriate on many levels.

[begmetwice]

"Detective Watts!" And with that, down went the feet off the counter, and her book was set aside (though she was going to ruin the spine doing it like that, Irene, for shame.) "How are you this fine summer day?"

[pocketpretzels]

“I am well,” Watts acknowledged. With a side of mild concern regarding the location of two island residents, but he had no evidence one way or the other that something nefarious was at work there, so. “Yourself?”

[begmetwice]

"Halfway to Mars," Irene replied easily, tapping a nail on the cover of her discarded novel, "but otherwise well enough."

Thankful for her air con, et cetera, et cetera.

[pocketpretzels]

“I suppose my question then becomes, what planet will you be on on Friday the 11th?” Watts asked.

[begmetwice]

"All signs point to Earth, but you can never be too sure around here," Irene replied with a lift of a brow. "Any reason?"

She presumed there was probably a very good reason, in fact.

[pocketpretzels]

“I’m having a- gathering.” Party. It was a party. A birthday party, even. “That evening. To celebrate my birthday. And- I should like it very much if you would attend.”

[begmetwice]

"Oh, I'd love to! You're kind to think of me. However," Irene replied with a deliberately imperious straightening of her posture as she folded her arms in front of herself, "I have one condition."

She might have been acting serious, but she was doing her level best to convey a sort of teasing seriousness.

[pocketpretzels]

“Oh?” Watts said. He was getting better at picking up on things like teasing, and was reasonably certain there was some of that happening here. “What’s that, then?”

[begmetwice]

"How old will you be?" Irene had no time for pretending the age part didn't matter when it came to birthdays.

Aside from her own, that is. Irene was a spritely twenty-nine...for the sixth time, personally.

[pocketpretzels]

"Thirty-four," Watts answered promptly. "Or," he frowned slightly, taking the time to do a little mental math, "A hundred-forty-seven, I suppose, depending on how you look at it."