tampered | Log Ongoing; Closed

Nerves weren't part of Angela's outfit tonight; they did nothing for her figure nor did they complement her colorful dress. Tonight wasn't her first date in the City and if her crappy luck in the romance section of life would quit nosing itself into things, it wouldn't be her last. But for now, it was dinner, a movie, and adult conversation with a handsome guy. She couldn't ask for much more.

Angela gave herself one last once-over in the mirror, tucking a rogue strand of hair behind her ear. Satisfied with her looks, she pulled the door open, leaning against it with a grin. "Have I hit rock bottom to the point of needing to buy a date? I'm worse off than I thought."

Castle whistled low when Angela opened the door then grinned. "These are for you," he said, handing her the lilies.

"Gift certificate. Someone knew you needed a night out with someone who wouldn't forget his wallet."

"Thank you. They're beautiful." Ah, he did keep his promise to remember the flowers. She wasn't an easy girl to impress--many men have tried and failed--but little actions like that spoke so much louder to her than pretty words. Ten points went to Castle tonight.

"You mean pretend like he forgot his wallet," Angela laughed as she waved Castle into the apartment. "Come in while I find something to put these in so the cat won't eat them."

And like clockwork, said cat made his appearance known with a loud meow from his perch on the couch. So much for Jefferson's approval of Angela having a social life.

Castle likes the whole point thing. At least as long as he's getting them and not losing them. He glances the apartment as he steps inside. The cat's disapproval doesn't escape his notice. "What's the kitty's name and are any of these yours?" He made a gesture to the walls.

"Right, I keep forgetting the details. In either case, I'll tell you I have my wallet. Now I can't change my mind later."

"Jefferson," Angela answered from inside the kitchen. "Are what any of mine?" Flowers in a makeshift vase made out of an old jar and settled nicely on counter, she stepped back into the living room, face fixed in a quizzical expression.

"The paintings? Some of them. Others I bought."

While she's in the kitchen Castle is making faces at the cat. Not taunting per say, just making faces and goo goo eyes. Sort of like one does a baby. He clears his throat and straightens up when Angela walks back in. He's got that idiot's grin on his face.

"Yeah?" And he looks around the room. "Which ones?"

As expected, Jefferson is paying no mind to the silly human screwing up his face at him. The cat hops down, unimpressed, and pads off into another part of the apartment, most likely to tease the dog. Angela doesn't care until she hears angry hissing and barking and for now, things are quiet.

"The woman with the deer, the dressed-up couple, and the beach one are mine. The others I bought because they spoke to me," she answers somewhat distracted as she slips on a pair of heels. "Especially the drawing hands. I love that one." Her tone, preoccupied as it may be, is colored with her passion and love for the arts.

Ah Castle is used to being ignored. It doesn't bother him. He does inspect the paintings Angela names more carefully, ending with the hands. "Escher? Isn't it?"

He pauses, not certain he should ask but then curiosity always gets the better of him. "Is everything okay?"

"Impressive. Escher was part of your writing research at one point?" She's smiling because she's actually impressed with his guess. Five more points for him.

Angela glances up at him from the strap on her shoes, brow furrowed. "Yeah, why wouldn't it be?" Nothing's really the matter, except she's going into this date without any expectations for more. Part of it is because she's Angela and a date really is just a date and that she's slightly wary that her recent bad luck in the romance department will come and screw things up. Let her have a decent first date tonight and she'll worry about the rest way down the road.

Shrugging on her coat gives her outfit the final touch. She turns to Castle with a smile and asks, "Ready to get this show on the road?"

Castle chuckles and nodded. "Guilty. It was part of one of my killer's background. A love of Escher."

He returns the smile and nods. He's going into the date with the same sort of idea. No expectations. He'd just like to enjoy the evening and hope she does as well. "I am and you look fantastic," he told her as he walked to the door and opened it for her.

"You don't look half bad yourself." Angela reaches out to tug at his shirt collar. "Much better than half bad."

Out in the hallway now, she turns to wait for his exit so she can lock up behind them. Sookie and Brennan are somewhere around here, but that's no reason to play loose and fast with their personal safety by leaving the door wide open.

"Now I have to get rid of that print if I ever want to kill somebody. Thanks for the tip," Angela jokes. She couldn't kill somebody even if she tried; even if she managed to do it anyway, she'll be too guilt-ridden and anxious to remember to pick up any evidence.

He grins at her compliment and waggles his eyebrows at her. "Thank you very much." He steps back to let her lock up then offers his arm as they start down the hall.

"I'll be onto you but depending on who it is, I might try and help you get away with it."

Door locked, Angela slips her arm around his, letting Castle lead the way tonight. "You're forgetting I work for the FBI. I have my own hookups." She lets the first answer be on its own before she adds, "But I'll call you if I need a little creative help."

It's their lucky night with the elevator already being on the tenth floor. The doors slide open with a ding, beckoning them inside.

"So dinner and a movie, right? Which movie?"

"Ooooh a woman who doesn't need me. There's something appealing about that," Castle said with a smirk as they got into the elevator.

"That depends on what you want to see. We can go with The Maltese Falcon or something newer like Avatar."

[ooc: I tried to go with something new that we don't have a fandom for here in Poly ~~yet~~]

Angela rolls her eyes at that. He makes it sound like women always need him and his ego. Admittedly though, she finds his ego enticing, only because knocking it down some will be entertaining in itself.

"I'm not really a science fiction kinda girl. Let's do The Maltese Falcon. It's a classic and who doesn't love Humphrey?"

Ground floor. Time to leave the warm lobby and trek out into the cold for fun.

[ooc: I'm loling because there was an Avatar centric ep of Bones where Angela just wasn't into it lol]

He was sort of being sarcastic and funny but he does have the whole hero complex going on.

"Good choice. One of my favorites," Castle tells her with a grin. He opens the door for her but once they step outside he's a little awkward. He doesn't know if he should put his arm around her shoulders and pull her close against the cold or if that's just way too close for a first date.

[ooc: that's awesome]

Either option would be fine to Angela. She's too busy struggling to pull on her gloves to care where a bit of heat comes from, as long as it comes from somewhere. An arm around her shoulders is a lot less that what she's done on some of her other first dates anyway. It's downright innocent in comparison.

"It's nights like these where I wish I had my car here," Angela comments, watching the white vapor pass her lips with mild amusement. "Jump in, put the heat on high, and stop the Popsicle process."

At her comment, Castle goes ahead and puts his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. He undoes the top button on his wool peacoat. "Hands inside. Or I could be trying to get you to cop a feel," he grins at her because he is kidding. When Alexis was little he'd wrap her up entirely in his coat. He still had her stick her hands in his coat sometimes.

"At least a decent transit system or taxi service would be nice."

"If that's what you want, wait for dessert." Jokes from her to beat back his. Angela slips her hands into the fabric, grateful that he's not dead and cold like some of the other people here. Then again, going on a first date with a dead guy is another kind of first in itself. The likelihood of that happening anytime soon is slim to none, though.

"There is a subway, but I forget it exists since I'm used to driving or walking everywhere now. I really wouldn't mind a curse where I can drive my baby for a day." Quietly she wonders if the deities would be willing to give in for a trade like that, but to be honest with herself, Angela isn't fond enough of them to even bother speaking to them, much less asking them for a favor. Nothing is worth begging the people who find pleasure in your misery.

"I was trying to get a jump on the evening but you're right. I should be patient," he continues with the joke. He's glad he's not dead and cold as well. In fact, he's actively attempting to avoid that as diligently as he would back in New York City.

"What kind of car do you have?" he asks. He's aware of the subway. He doesn't use it much either.

"Good things come to those who wait," Angela intones with a quirk of the eyebrow. Castle can wait all he wants tonight because even if she wasn't joking, that spark of connection hasn't happened for her yet. She has no qualms about breaking any first date rules, but that spiritual connection needs to happen for her first.

"A Toyota Matrix." She answers quickly with the brand name before adding, "Yes, it's a hatchback, but hey, it has a lot of room to hold my supplies." And corpses stolen from their funeral, but Angela's still out on knowing about that. Brennan should tell her one day.

"Do you drive?" Asking keeps the conversation going and her mind off of the possibility of frostbite on her face.

He's honestly not expecting anything. He likes Angela and he's not dumb, he wouldn't kick her out of bed but he's not actively at the moment thinking about getting her into one either.

"I keep hearing that," he jokes. "I can not throw stones over hatchbacks or anything else. I can drive but I don't own a car. I call a cab, ride the subway or hire a car."

Cafe Juliet is their destination and they reach it in short order which is good for Angela's face. Castle opens the door for her and ushers her in before following her.

"A bestselling author taking the subway? I'm shocked and appalled you and your ruggedly handsome looks actually go out in public."

Her face, and the rest of her body, is thankful for the arrival at the cafe. Angela's hands come out of their hiding place as she nods a thank you to Castle's act of chivalry and another nod, this one a greeting, to the waitress headed towards them. She's warming up to a decent temperature and getting ready to get this date officially started.

"It's research for my writing," Castle chuckles. He's actually being semi truthful but he does like the subway...most of the time. The people watching is top notch.

"Table for two, please." He doesn't order a smoking preference because he's not used to there being an option. New York City hasn't given people one in years.

The waitress nods and gathers up some menus, beckoning them to follow her to a table in a corner. Castle is a good boy who even pulls Angela's chair out for her.

Angela smiles at his answer. Much like her finding beauty in everything everywhere, she's sure it's just as easy for a writer to find inspiration in the half-dressed guy singing for change on the platform. Thinking about New York makes her miss living there a bit, more than all the other places she's lived. It was full of energy and life and she misses that sometimes in D.C.

She waits until the food is ordered and they're settled with their drinks before she launches further into the getting to know you stage of the night. "When did you first want to be a writer? Thank you for pulling out my chair, by the way. I appreciate that."

If she was really keeping score, that would be another handful of points in his favor.

That's pretty much the jest of things. He never knows where he's going to find his next killer, victim or witness. Rick misses New York City as well. It's a place he loved living.

He takes a sip of his beer and thinks about her question. "I guess by the time I was probably ten or eleven? I used to practically spend my summers in the New York City Public Library. I read everything I could get my hands on and decided that one day I wanted to have the power the words in those books had on me."

He is trying. He doesn't want to be one of those dates that fail, even if that spark never happens between them.

The way he phrases his answer touches Angela in the same place her passion for art does. One sentence alone gives her the impression of somebody who's doing what he loves not only because it pays well, but because it brings him personal satisfaction too.

Nodding as she unwraps a straw for her iced tea, Angela realizes they're more alike that she thought. This is a good thing.

"I'm curious. What was the first thing you wrote and was it any good?" she asks with a devious grin on her face. Her first painting wasn't very good. Granted, she was three years old dueling with a cheap Crayola watercolor set, but still, it was a world away from the expertise she has now.

He really can't imagine doing anything else. He loves consulting for the police department but even then it's really just research.

Indeed it is.

"The first thing I wrote was a thin veiled self insert about a boy who was a super hero and he dashed around saving the world while his Nanny watched soap operas all day. As far as any good? It was fantastic. Or at least I thought so when I was eleven. In reality, it was awful."

He chuckles and takes another sip of his beer. "What about you? When did you know you wanted to be an artist and what was the first thing you painted?"

"Reality is a cruel, cruel critic," Angela laughs, full and loud. "It gives encouragement to no one."

A rogue ice cube getting poked for floating to the top of her glass gives her a moment for reflection into her childhood. "I was eight. My dad paid for a whole summer of art camp so I would stop drawing on the walls, but all it did was feed the beast inside me. After that, I didn't want anything else but to have my art framed on a wall in a museum." She still doesn't want anything more than that. Her paintings have been on a few walls, but none of the major museums that actually mean something. But there's no giving up until that dream is fulfilled.

"The neighbor's chinchilla. I was three," she starts, a shy smile creeping up across her face. Maybe a little embarrassment is mixed in there too. "Pretty much explains the quality."

"That is the truth," Rick says with a chuckle. He watches her while she talks. He can see on her face how much she loves what she does and it's endearing.

"I bet your Dad is proud though. Being the one responsible for kindling that passion."

The shy smile is adorable and so very different from the Angela that Castle is used to. He chuckles. "At least it was unique."

"He probably wanted me to follow his lead in career choices, but he knew that telling me no would make me cry and you of all people know the power of a daughter's tears."

That reply is tagged along with an eyebrow waggle. Angela's never cried to manipulate her father; that's not her style. Besides, why cry when the man would give her the moon and stars before she could even ask for it?

"Unique is always good. I don't do normal. It bores me," Angela states matter-of-factly as she takes a sip of tea. The word is barely in her vocabulary by choice and even less so in her actions. "I just don't understand it. Why do what everybody else does?"

Castle and Angela's father do have a lot in common.

"Because unique is hard but I tend to agree with you," Castle responds. He always encourages Alexis to be her own person and she very gratefully is. "What does your father do?"

A subject not usually wanted comes up. Angela realizes she set herself up for that question. It's not that she's ashamed of her father, but sometimes, people find out who he is and that's when things get weird. One too many requests for an autograph from a man she rarely gets to see herself has bothered her more times than she can count. But this is Rick Castle, a man who is famous himself. Angela's comfortable discussing her roots with him.

"He plays guitar in a band." Her tone isn't standoffish. It's actually warm and welcoming. If anybody knows the joys and sorrows of having a famous father, it's Castle's own daughter. "If you're going to ask which band, promise me you won't go all fanboy on me about it."

"I promise not to fanboy but the knowledge that he plays a guitar professionally satisfies my question," Castle assures her. Of course it doesn't really satisfy his curiosity.

Castle isn't above fanboying but at the same time he does know what it's like to be famous and more importantly he knows what it's like for Alexis to have a famous dad. He'll keep his promise. He's not a giant rock music fan anyway. He likes it as well as the next person but it's not his life.

It really doesn't. Angela can see that from a mile away. Either way, the answer has to wait a few minutes as their meals arrive to do the plate waltz on the table with an intermission for drink refills.

"ZZ Top," she starts without a bit of fanfare as soon as the waitress is gone. It's like she's just saying her father is less of a rock star and more of a tax accountant. "So yeah, he does a little bit more than just play the guitar in it."

More like he writes the songs, sings them, and pretty much put the entire band together.

Edited 2010-02-04 21:49 (UTC)

Castle pauses a moment, taking a sip of his beer as he does. "That must have been hard for you growing up. Or very cool. Maybe a bit of both."

He's trying to look at this from her point of view because this is more about getting to know her, not her father. Also it helps him not look like a fanboy. Which he's really not but it

is

ZZTop.

"Sometimes," Angela shrugs, picking out the tomatoes in her side salad. "Getting time alone with him was hard with him being on tour, but he's my dad. He's just Daddy to me and I love him in any form he comes in. Even if that form comes riding in on a hot rod with a sawed off shotgun."

Unlike other people with famous parents, all the flash and glitter, the red carpets, and the award shows mean nothing to her. All that matters is that man who took time to come home when he could, who helped her practice her softball swing in the backyard, who even threatened all her boyfriends even up her fiancee. Sometimes the simplest thing Angela can get is the most beautiful to her.

"What about your family?" It's now time to learn more about the man named Rick Castle over a plate of chicken and pasta.

Castle thinks about that for a moment, taking a bite of his food.

"You know about Alexis. She's been with me since she was a baby. Her mother wanted to be an actress. A couple of years ago my mother moved in with us. She still lives with us. She's an actress too. My parents divorced when I was a kid and the Nanny spent more time watching soap operas than she did me."

It was the reason he spent so much time at the library and became a writer really. He had the freedom to do so and had to entertain himself.

"It really wasn't so bad. I had a pretty decent childhood."

Raised eyebrows are how Angela recognizes a mother making a choice between her child and her dream. She doesn't know the woman and even if Angela did, she wouldn't judge her. The choice she made isn't a choice Angela could make, but Angela respects people giving up the hardest things to give up to be happy.

Chewing and swallowing as he speaks, Angela tries to ask what could be a sensitive question with the most care and concern that she can. An important question like it will soothe her curiosity. "Does Alexis see her mother often?"

Castle has no idea how she could have done it either. He couldn't have left Alexis no matter what dreams he was pursuing but at the same time, Meredith's selfishness allowed Alexis to be entirely his.

"Not terribly. Meredith is very busy trying to launch her acting career. She's done some stage things. Occasionally she passes through and takes Alexis shopping on my credit card. She loves Alexis. She'd just rather love her on her schedule instead of a consistent one."

Not surprisingly, Angela recognizes that there is a benefit to Alexis' situation. Daddy twenty-four hours a day isn't such a bad thing when you haven't had it a lot.

"At least her grandmother is around," Angela says before clarifying, "For girl talk. Can't exactly tell Daddy your boyfriend put his hand up your skirt during math class when Daddy is more than willing to kill him."

Oh, you definitely can't.

And his job actually let him be around twenty-four hours a day.

At her comment, Castle made a face and put his hands over his ears. "No, no, no, no! I do not need to hear that." He's laughing though.

"She doesn't really talk to my mother about that either. According to Mom, there's a generational gap. She talks to Beckett though. They have coffee."

Log Ongoing; Closed

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NP on edits and I am heading to bed but I'll be around tomorrow.

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I got busy this weekend and failed. I'm sorry

it's okay! ♥

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