tampered | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

When; Backdated to the evening of Friday, March 9th
Rating; PG? Probably?
Characters; Wilson [

anunluckypenny]
Summary; Wilson and Penny go out for dinner! Très excitant!
Log;

He'd selected the restaurant carefully and deliberately; it was nice, in that people were seated and served by wait staff rather than purchasing food at a counter and conveying it to their tables on flimsy plastic trays. At the same time, it wasn't fancy by any stretch. Nobody would be seen here in evening wear, and you'd never be greeted by the sort of host that looked down his nose at you and asked if you had a reservation. There was no lightly tinkling piano music or violinist making the rounds of the tables. There was, however, a well-rounded menu with plenty of vegetarian options - he'd made sure, of course - and it was warm and lively; it seemed perfectly right for... whatever this was.

He wasn't calling it a date.

What he was calling it, though, he hadn't quite been able to decide. He certainly wouldn't object to it being a date, by any means, but he didn't want to make assumptions either. Though, he had been alternating between questioning that winking smiley in her text message and questioning whether he should be putting any significance on it at all. It seemed safer to call this a dinner out as friends... even if it meant the questioning and second-guessing would go on unchecked in his head.

It goes without saying, since he came from the hospital, that he's dressed nicely. A sharp suit and tie - it's nothing too stuffy and certainly nothing you wouldn't expect of a doctor, but it is nice. He manages not to look overdressed, if only because it's not at all unusual for him.

And so it is, dressed nicely but not too nice, that he holds the door of the nice but not too nice restaurant open for Penny. Who is absolutely his friend, and may or may not be his date.

He's still questioning that.

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She'd been fretting over whether or not her liberal use of smileys in her text messages to Wilson had been inappropriate ever since they had made their dinner... whatever it was. Penny added smileys to the end of most of her text messages; she thought it make them feel a little friendlier.

She shouldn't have used the winky smiley. That could totally be misconstrued as flirting, which Penny didn't think she was doing--or was she? She liked Wilson. He'd been good company in the desert and he was never anything but sweet.

Penny pushes the thoughts aside and thanks Wilson for holding the door open. The restaurant is nicer than the places she usually eats out at (those places typically being either cheap dives or soup kitchens), but not so nice that she feels out of place in her skirt and cardigan. Wilson looks pretty sharp, which--well, he's Wilson. Penny doesn't know if he even owns clothes that aren't suits and button-up shirts.

Was he wearing a suit when he was mauled by a killer sheep? Penny immediately adds that thought to the do-not-think-about pile. That isn't an appropriate topic to bring up at a nice dinner with a really nice guy.

Actually, maybe it's never an appropriate topic.

"So what's new?" she asks as a perfectly pleasant waiter (the kind one finds in a nice restaurant, not in super-nice restaurants where multiple forks and spoons are provided) leads them to a table. It's a lame way to open a conversation, but Penny doesn't have anything better what with all of the thoughts about smileys and sheep she's trying to suppress. "Did you get to do anything heroically doctor-y today?"

Penny almost tacks "James" onto the end of the question just to see if she can get away with it. Wilson hasn't ever said that he doesn't go by his first name, but he also doesn't correct her when she calls him "Doctor Wilson." Would calling him James make this a date? Did the winking smiley already make this a date, or is there still time to call it "dinner with an adult friend"? More importantly, does she want this to be a date? Does he?

Now Penny remembers why she'd been out of the dating circuit before the mess with Captain Hammer.

Forcing his own line of internal questioning, re-questioning and second guessing into submission, he smiles and gives a gentle shrug at the question - only just lifting his shoulders slightly and tilting his head a bit.

"Well, I think I filed some charts in a manner that could be described as positively valiant," he jokes; that comes to him easily in any social situation, and a well-intentioned quip usually has a calming effect for everyone. It would be a lot less difficult to figure out what this is, and what it might become, if they could both be a bit more at ease.

The menus are stacked on his side of the table, so he hands one over to Penny as he adds, "I don't think most of my patients today afforded much opportunity for heroics, though. There was one particularly nasty case of sniffles in the clinic, but..."

He lets that trail hang there. Of course, work has recently included darker happenings as well, which some might classify as somewhat more heroic, but that's not really the sort of thing that should come up over dinner. Certainly not in keeping with his attempts at keeping this light with minimum anxiety.

"What about you? Enjoying life back outside of the desert?"

The light-hearted response sets a nice tone--a nice, non-threatening, not-having-to-label-anything tone--and Penny's spinning thoughts are, for the moment, subdued.

"Hey, I'm impressed. I've never met anyone who could file anything valiantly," she replies as she accepts a menu and starts to browse. "Sounds like a slow day, though. Do you ever have time to get bored at work?"

Do you ever have flashbacks involving killer sheep? No. Penny is determined to keep her questions in a realm that (hopefully) won't dredge up any traumatic memories.

"I'm loving non-desert life and I'm never, ever going to take showers for granted again." That answer doesn't seem substantial enough. And showers--oh, no, she doesn't want to linger on showers. Wilson might remember that awkward thing she'd said. "Everything's going really well, actually," Penny add quickly. "I have a roomie, something that's not completely unlike a social life--new and exciting--and the Welcome Center's been a great place to help out at."

He gives a light smile back as he opens his own menu - not quite looking at it yet.

"Not usually. If I don't have anything going on in my own caseload, there's always someplace to help out. And, of course, there's always House." That last bit should speak for itself, now that she's gotten to spend some time with the crankier doctor; it can be difficult to be bored with that sort of friend around.

Of course, that doesn't mean that he doesn't have any downtime, and reflection on the City, is naturally something that often occupies said downtime. The sheep, of course, are certainly included in those reflections - but all that's blissfully distant from his mind at the moment. Of course, he has no idea that it would be on hers at all, since he still doesn't know that any of his personal life had been involved in that particular curse. To him, there don't seem to be any darker themes at play in their light, friendly conversation.

And, as she continues in that conversation, getting to the bit about showers, of course he remembers awkward thing she said - mostly because he thought it was hilarious. Not that he would mention it, of course.

"Wow," he gives a slightly wider, impressed smile at her extended response, leaning back slightly, "Well, you certainly seem to be making the most of the City. Not that I'm surprised, exactly, just... It sounds like you have a lot of good things going on right now. Which is great. Who's your roommate?"

"Is House always as cheerful as he was in the desert?" she asks lightly, paying very little attention to the menu she's looking at. Not that Penny has anything against the other doctor. Being cranky is a completely valid life choice, and she's sure that House has plenty of good qualities. Wilson wouldn't be friends with him if he wasn't an okay person.

Wilson's easy answers help Penny's thoughts stray away from sheep and showers and anything else potentially weird or unpleasant. Talking to him is nice. Normal. That's all she's ever really wanted--nice and normal. Nice and normal friends, a nice and normal life, a nice and normal... Wilson.

James? Wilson? Jim? Jimmy? No, definitely not Jimmy.

She smiles down at her menu. "The City's a good place. I mean, for... you know, for people who could use second chances. I didn't realize how much life I was missing out on until I came here. And I'm staying with Euphie, which is a little weird because she's so young, but it's working out." Without even thinking about any possible connotations her question might have, she asks, "What's your living situation like, Wilson?"

He settles forward again, glancing down at the menu, even though he isn't paying much attention to it. He smirks over the top of it at her as he responds, "Sometimes, he's even more cheerful." House has good traits, really. Of course, they're very well-hidden, and you'd have to take Wilson's word for it that they're there at all. For one, he certainly does help to keep one entertained if you have the right sense of humor.

As she responds, that smirk changes to a soft, gentle smile, almost sad as she talks about needing a second chance. He is glad that she has it, though, and that it's here and now. His feelings on the City are complicated because of things just like this; he's hardly had it easy here, but he knows it isn't the same for everyone, and for some people, it's all they have. But it's that glimpse of positivity that makes it bearable, some days.

"You know," he pipes up, sensing, perhaps, that uncertainty and recognizing that most people don't default to the last-name-basis that their profession lends him and his colleagues to adopt, "You can call me James, if you want."

But to return to the topic at hand, "That does sound like things are going well. I'm glad to hear it, really. Euphie is a sweet girl, even if she is young, so... I'm sure you two must get along great." Clearly making the implication that he thinks Penny is sweet, too. But after only a moment there, he continues on.

"And I... actually live with House." Just when he thought he'd gotten off the topic. "Well, and two kittens, now."

Second chances, though - his mind stuck on that, and he does worry about her, how she's handling things. But it's not the time to bring it up, not with the tone of the conversation light, nice and generally upbeat. Maybe a turn for deeper conversation will come naturally, or maybe not. No matter how the night's conversation goes, being a friend is still an important part of helping anyone to cope, and that he can do.

She settles on a salad that looks good and sets her menu aside, giving Wilson her full attention. "He's lucky to have a friend like you, you know... someone who can see the good under all of the cranky." Penny would place herself in the 'lucky' category, too. Friends like Wilson are hard to come by.

Friends like James, rather.

"James," she says experimentally. Yep, that'll do. "I've been wondering what to call you--not that it's a huge deal or anything, but it's awkward calling you 'Wilson' and I wasn't sure if you ever go by your first name. I like James. It's a very you kind of name."

Penny misses any implications, amused by the thought of combining House and kittens. "How do they get along? House and the kittens, I mean. Is he one of those guys who pretends to hate them and then plays with them when he thinks no one's looking?" She doesn't think Wilson's that kind of guy. He seems more the type to accept kitten shenanigans with a certain amount of resigned good humor. She adds, "So how'd you end up with them? Do you like cats, or is picking up strays a thing for you?" The last is said without judgment, of course. Penny's quite fond of strays herself, even strays of the human variety.

He smiles, softly, at that. It's a nice change, actually; more frequently, people express how baffling they find it that he puts up with House rather than assume that he must have a reason to. Not that he's surprised at it, coming from Penny. She does always seem to see the good in people - it's one of the things he likes about her.

There's a small laugh, at the bit about his name, "I guess it's a good thing that it's mine, then. I do use it, it's just-- last names make more sense at work, and I suppose given how many of us are here and the fact that we're all in the habit of using them... well. It just permeates."

Mentioning House and the kittens, of course, gets a bigger laugh. "They were part of a litter that someone here - Amory, I'm not sure if you've met him - was trying to adopt out. They were the last two left, and I figured that since nobody else had offered, I would give them a home. They do love House, but... he's not exactly fond of cats." But then he leans in, confidentially, "Though, I wouldn't be surprised if they were curled up on his lap watching TV right now."

He smirks; he would be surprised, but for the sake of humor, it's an excellent mental image. And then he sets his own menu aside, having made his selection.

Penny laughs quietly, imagining House with two adorable kittens on his lap, listening for any indication that Wilson might be coming and afraid of being caught doing something like willingly tolerating cute, fuzzy animals. House and Wilson do strike her as a bit of mismatched set, but maybe that's why they get along.

"I bet they'll grow on him eventually," she says with some confidence. "It's really hard not to love something that loves you. Not that I've had a lot of experience with that kind of thing, I mean, but there's this pigeon that always comes--always came--to sit on my window sill at night back home, and I wasn't too crazy about him at first because he wasn't a quiet bird. Eventually, though, I started feeding him bread or leftover spaghetti or whatever and he kind of won me over. He was a good conversationalist."

Okay, the connection between House and kittens and Penny and the pigeon isn't perfect, but she feels like it's close enough to illustrate her point. Or maybe it just makes her sound crazy.

She switches subjects just in case. "So a bunch of people from your home're here. What's that like? Like, do you feel extra connected to them because you all come from the same place?"

It may not be a perfect parallel, but the pigeon story makes him smile nonetheless. It seems just like her, and uniquely like her, to manage to find the good in, care for, and even befriend something that most people view as vermin.

"Well, it sounds like he picked the right window sill to sit on. If only we could all be as lucky as your pigeon friend," Because he does consider himself lucky, to know her, to have known her before and to have the chance to know her again, to be having dinner with her under whatever circumstances these are - whether it's as friends or a date, Penny is someone he's grateful to have the opportunity to spend time with.

But he shifts with her subject change, shrugging lightly, "I think so - I do feel that we all look out for each other, when things go badly. Not that we don't look out for everyone, but we do always check in with each other. Of course, I'm not necessarily closer to all of them than anyone else, but... I guess it's an added, different kind of connection."

There's more to say there; about having a piece of home, about having people around who know you and your life as they were before the City, about how much something as simple as seeing a face that you know or being able to reference something from back home without having to explain your friends, your relationships, your world to someone can mean... but none of that seems like something he should say to Penny.

Making Wilson smile is definitely something. She can take some comfort in the knowledge that, even if he thinks she's some kind of crazy, he finds it amusing instead of horrifying. Amused people tend to stick around longer than horrified ones.

"I'd feed you leftover spaghetti even if you didn't sit on my window sill, James." After a moment, Penny adds, "Actually, I'd prefer it if you didn't sit on any window sills. Knocking on the door'll do."

She likes Wilson's friends from home--the ones she has met, at least. The thought of them looking out for one another is a sweet one. Chase and House definitely seem like they could use someone to keep an eye on them or, in the latter's case, keep them out of trouble by smoothing over any incidences they might cause. "No, I think I get what you mean. It's nice to have someone around who's on the same page as you."

Penny might not have anyone like that in the City (although she's sure some of her friends, including Wilson, know her at least as well as most of the people she talked to at home), but she's been a part of groups. Just belonging somewhere, even if that somewhere is with people and not a place, means something.

(She decides not to mention Captain Hammer, although she does think of him briefly. They might've been from the same world, but they weren't on the same page. They might not have even been in the same book.)

"You know, I don't think a window sill would really be all that comfortable, anyway. But I would certainly never say no to some leftover spaghetti."

His smile broadens a bit with that comment; he certainly doesn't find her horrifying, to say the least. He's happy that he cut his response where he did, since the light mood seems to have survived intact. He always does try to be mindful of his gratitude at having those from home around, when faced with those who either don't have anyone at all or have anyone whose company they would willingly share. Especially, of course, if the City is all they have now.

"Yeah. It is nice."

And that's a simple, easy enough agreement on the matter. And, thankfully, it manages to not seem like anyone here means any less to him.

"So you're working at the Welcome Center now," which is hardly a surprise, given its origins that he's aware of, "That must be rewarding, helping everyone as they arrive - as they go through what we all have. What did you do before the City?"

He hopes that phrasing sounds better than asking what she did before her death.

"What about not-leftover spaghetti? You could come over sometime when I cook." Even though she's the one issuing it, Penny isn't entirely sure what kind of an invitation that is. She opts for delaying any kind of analysis until after dinner.

Without anywhere else to go on the topic of people-from-the-same-world-being-in-the-City, Penny lets that conversation end with Wilson's affirmation. It's not a bad note to end on.

She smiles at Wilson's slightly... glorified idea of what she does and says, "It's nice, but it's not always helping people directly, you know? Sometimes I just hang back at the Center and clean and stuff... let some of the more outgoing volunteers fish people out of the fountain." Shyness isn't a characteristic that everyone would be quick to assign to Penny and she can be hesitant to own up to it. Still, Wilson may as well know. "I was between jobs at home." A bit awkwardly, she amends, "I mean, I was working, but it was all volunteer work after I was laid off at my last job."

Penny's slightly embarrassed by her checkered employment history now that she's sitting across from a doctor--someone with a real, steady job and not a string of odd jobs that barely paid for a studio apartment on the bad side of town. Not that Wilson's the sort of person who would think less of her for all of that.

"That sounds incredible." He doesn't let himself set off on another line of questioning, there - he's happy with any kind of invitation it is, and he's made a conscious decision to relax as much as he can and just... see where things go.

He does offer an encouraging, small smile as she responds to the question. While her admission of shyness is admittedly a little surprising, it's actually less so when he considers it for a moment. In some ways, he can be. Still, he shakes his head slightly.

"Well, I still think it counts as helping, even if it's indirect. The Center wouldn't be much use if it wasn't taken care of, if people didn't have somewhere to go when they got here."

He doesn't really react much to her admission, not negatively; his smile softens a bit, and he shrugs. "There's certainly nothing wrong with volunteer work. Or with being between jobs - everyone's been there. Not everyone's decided to give up their time to help others. So, I think I'll just keep thinking of you as doing your part to save the world, bit by bit."

While there's a hint of humor there, it's clear that the sentiment is sincere. He does admire the volunteer work. He certainly has his own reasons to appreciate those who help the less fortunate.

"Then I'll let you know when that happens."

Wilson leaves her at a momentary loss for words. How did he take what she said and turn it into a compliment? "Well, when you put it like that..." She trails off, smiling down at the table. "Thanks, James."

And that gets a warm, wide smile out of him. Hey, this is what he does.

"You're welcome. Though I do mean it, you know."

That's said with well-humored sternness. Before he can open another topic, their friendly waiter is back to take their order; he's going with a nice sandwich, thanks.

Wilson seems anything but insincere; she doesn't doubt that he does mean it.

Penny requests a salad and the waiter takes off.

"Do you mind if I ask you something that might sound kind of weird?" she asks him, again pushing back any thoughts of zombie sheep (it will never be a decent dinner topic).

He shifts slightly in his seat, after the menus are handed off, and leans back as she asks. He gives a little smile as he shrugs.

"No-- I don't mind, I mean. Weird doesn't typically bother me."

"I didn't think so--I mean, you've been in the City for a long while, so weird's got to be normal by now." She smiles nervously. "So, when I was here before... how well did we know each other? Like, were were close, or close-close, or casual friends?"

Eager to give him a way out of answering if there's some kind of unpleasantness Wilson would rather not share, she's quick to add, "This is one of those don't-answer-if-you-don't-want-to questions."

He considers the question a moment, shaking his head slightly as he does to dismiss the way out, "It's fine..."

And he tilts his head to the side slightly, "I'd say we were more... casual friends than anything. We were friends, just not particularly close."

There's a small, almost awkward smile as he glances back to her, "I guess it's all the more reason to make up for that now."

It's kind of hard for Penny to imagine just being acquainted with Wilson. How'd she manage to overlook him the last time she was here? What could have kept her from noticing how sweet and funny he is?

(Maybe this is a date. She just thought of him as sweet and funny.)

Penny dismisses those thoughts and returns Wilson's smile. "I guess so. I'll just have to bother you that much more to make up for lost time." She tucks her hair behind her ear and continues, "Sorry about that. I'm just never quite sure where I really stand with people, you know?"

He gives a little nod, a half-sideways inclination of his head as he quirks a brow along with it. "You don't have to apologize... I'm sure it must be strange, having complete strangers recognize you as a friend - and not because they've mistaken you for someone else."

It's not that unusual, of course, for the City. He's seen it happen with several people, though he has yet to experience it himself. Still, it doesn't change the sentiment.

"And I'm going to have to steal your line; I seriously doubt you could ever bother me. Though, I do invite you to try."

"It could be worse," she counters conversationally. "At least I haven't had any enemies pop up. I'd much rather have friends I don't know about than enemies."

Penny doesn't think for a moment that she could have done anything in her previous stay to gather any enemies. Still, the point stands: secret friends are better than secret enemies.

She laughs; those aren't the worst words that he could have used against her. "I'll do my best."

"That's certainly true, though... it's a little difficult to imagine you having enemies."

It's not flattery, but an honest response; he has as much trouble imagining it as she does. Of course, he's sure that pretty much anyone would agree with the assertion.

"Maybe we'll find out which one of us bothers the other first."

"I like to think so, too, but I'm kind of biased."

She doesn't think that Wilson is any more capable of making enemies than she is. He's so warm and friendly and genuine--but Penny doesn't mention that, not now. If she acknowledges all of these things out loud, it might mean she has a thing for him, and if she has a thing for him...

That wouldn't be so bad, really.

"We could be waiting a while." Penny grins, adding, "Although I think I bother House enough for any twelve people. Poor guy must love being unhappy."