tampered | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

When; Tuesday 5th February, after this
Rating; G - no warnings inherent
Characters; Andrew Ryan (

rianofski) and Ruby Flint (

spotlighted)
Summary; Friendly drinks
Log;

As the clock approaches 8pm, Ruby brushes out her curls and glances in the mirror for a final time. She feels overdressed, and a little self-conscious because of that, but the dress that she'd arrived in was the only thing she owned that fell into the category of evening wear rather than just practical clothes. The apartment still doesn't look like anyone lives there, something that Ruby hopes to remedy very quickly if she's to be stuck here indefinitely, as the place just feels very cold and lonely at the moment.

She rises eagerly at the knock on the door, almost tripping as she slips into a pair of heels on the way to answer it.

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She's delighted at the gesture, thinking herself very lucky that she's found a real gentleman here, it feels quite refreshing. She smooths out the wrinkles in the skirt of her dress as she sits, glancing round at the establishment. She hadn't expected anything nearly so fancy as she was used to in New York; she wasn't sure exactly what she had been expecting, to be honest. The bar seems more than fine, though.

"It'll do nicely. And I'll take a scotch on the rocks, if you wouldn't mind."

He passes on the order to the waiter who almost immediately comes over to their table, recognizing Andrew as a regular. "A scotch on the rocks for the lady, and I'll have a gin and tonic."

It's his expected drink, the one that he almost always orders. There are certain routines, it seems, that are difficult to break. As soon as the waiter has taken their orders and left, he turns his attention back to Ruby. "Now. Tell me all about yourself."

And he really does mean all about. He's nothing if not inquisitive.

She relaxes back into the chair, turning towards him a little and crossing her legs at the ankles, laughing a little nervously at the request. "Where do I even start?"

"Wherever you'd like to start."

He pulls out a cigarette, lights it, then offers her one. He's found that a surprising number of people in the City don't smoke, but he's not planning on quitting anytime soon.

"You said you were a singer."

She rifles through her purse for a moment to find her holder, then gratefully accepts a cigarette from him. She had no plans to quit either, but until she'd gotten herself settled and landed a regular singing job, smoking had to be more of a luxury than a habit.

"Yes, ever since I left school. First in the USO, during the war, and then afterwards when I returned to New York I started singing in jazz clubs. It didn't take long until I'd become quite an established part of the nightlife."

"Impressive."

Their drinks arrive, and he nods at the waiter before looking back at Ruby, taking a sip of his drink. "I'm afraid I hadn't been in New York particularly recently, back home, or I might have run into you there. I'm sure you've been singing at the sort of places I'd frequent."

It's a not so subtle way at determining just how famous she really is, where she's from. He admires hard work, and anyone who can make a name for themselves, but it's easy enough for anyone in the City to suggest that they have credentials. If she's sung somewhere he's heard of, it will certainly move her up in his estimation.

She raises her glass towards him slightly before taking a sip of her own drink. "Maybe so. Like I said, you're a man of good taste. Let's see ... I was at a small place in Queens for a while, and then there was a short engagement at the Midnight Club on East 79th, and then a good couple of years at the Blue Note, before I finally ended up at the Stork Club. It's been quite the journey, really."

"The Stork Club? Really..."

That was impressive. Anyone who was anyone who had been there, of course, and that included him, in his time in New York. She must have been doing very well, then, and he smiled slightly. So many people here had done impressive things, but very few of them were at all related to his life, to his time. This was a context he could understand.

"It must be a bit of a shock, then, to get stuck in a place like this."

His tone made it clear he thought the City was provincial and backwards, at best.

She grins at the recognition in his voice, finding it very refreshing to talk about these things with someone who actually knew what she was going on about.

"Mm, it was quite the shock. It's certainly no Manhattan, and these deities and curses sound somewhere between inconvenient and downright offensive, really, but honestly, I was in the process of starting over as it was. Maybe here's a place I could do that."

He takes a long drag on his cigarette before responding, nodding a little. "If it's a place to start over you're looking for, you've certainly found one. You can hardly continue to live your normal life around here, as I'm sure you've already realized."

Somewhere to start over wasn't something he was looking for, but he wouldn't begrudge anyone else the pleasure. He'd been assured that time didn't pass in their home worlds, and it was that hope he was clinging to.

"That's not to say I'd choose to settle down here, of course. And ... well, if I'd still been living my normal life back in New York, I wouldn't be looking for the fresh start. Things got complicated." She'll elaborate if he wants her to, but she's very afraid of it making a bad impression on him. "I'm also not sure that I like the idea of having to start at the bottom of the ladder again, but if I've got to the top once, in a much bigger town than this, I can certainly do it again."

"I'm sure that you'll succeed in whatever goals you set, though, of course, the City poses some... unique challenges to success."

He had found himself having challenges here that he hadn't experienced for years back home. The curses alone didn't make it easy, but the "deities" made it even worse.

"Your normal life?"

Of course, he'd caught that, and of course, he'd ask about it. If she demurred, he wouldn't press her, of course. That wouldn't be polite.

"Well, the City hasn't reckoned with Ruby Flint before. If they try and knock me down, I'll just come back fighting even harder."

She hesitates at the question, taking a long drag on her cigarette to weigh up whether she should tell him or not. She supposes it would be easier than avoiding the subject, especially if a friendship or more developed out of this.

She sighs. "You said you wanted to know all about me. Well, I should tell you straight up that my parents are socialists. I don't subscribe to their ideas one bit, and I've never had much contact with them, but that didn't stop Joe McCarthy from pulling me up in front of the House Committee. They didn't get anything, of course - there wasn't anything there for them to get - but it still meant that I got a fair bit of publicity that I neither wanted or needed."

He nods slowly, not looking particularly upset by the revelation. Her parents may be socialists, but he can tell that she's not, and her parents aren't here, in any case. "I see," he muses, taking another sip of his drink. His expression is inscrutable, as it always is, but he doesn't look bothered so much as thoughtful.

"Then I suppose I should tell you that I was born in Russia, and while my parents certainly weren't socialists, I've seen more than my fair share of socialism. You're hardly to blame for your parents misguided notions."

Nor for getting pulled up in front of the House Committee. He has his own opinions about the US government, but perhaps those are best saved for later.

Ruby looks both surprised and very grateful that he doesn't think any less of her, it's not a reaction she's used to seeing. She supposes that by 1959, maybe some of the paranoia has ebbed a little, and only those with dangerous ideals are actually being targeted. That and he seemed an excellent judge of character, anyway. His own revelation only increases her growing respect for him.

"I can't even imagine how awful that must have been. I'm glad you got out of there."

"Awful is putting it mildly. I left when the revolution broke out. I wasn't fond of the tsar, of course, but communist rule was even less palatable. New York seemed like a far better option."

That's glossing over things quite a bit. He doesn't care to go into the real impact the revolution or his childhood in Russia had had on him, nor how he currently feels about New York or America in general. He finishes his drink, looking almost surprised that the glass is empty, and gestures for the waiter to bring him another.

"I'm really sorry that you had to go through that. I can't imagine... It's my worst nightmare, really, living in a place with that little choice." She glances out of the window at the City beyond. The idea of these curses essentially stripping them of choice in how to even act left her with a similar distaste, and she downs the rest of her scotch. "It's a testament to you, though, that you overcame all of that."

Oh, Ruby, flattery will get you everywhere with this man. "Regardless of where one finds themselves, there is always restriction upon choice. It's simply up to us to find some way to overcome that restriction. Even here, there are small things one can do."

That's not to say that he likes the City, but he doesn't hate it as vehemently as he did several months before. "You have choices to make here, as well. Choices about your career that, perhaps, you wouldn't have been able to make at home."

She nods agreement. "I thought I might try again in a new city when things blew over a little more, though I had more Chicago or LA in mind than some magical nameless city that one's ever heard of. They asked me to leave, you see, they didn't like the negative publicity that I might bring to the club. Here I have a clean slate to work with."

"I think you would have fit right in in my city. It's a shame I didn't meet you in New York instead of here."

That's the first mention he's made of 'his' city all night, and it's casually slid in there, as though it's nothing notable. In fact, most people simply assume, when he says it, that he's referring to a city he lives in, perhaps one he's deeply attached to. The truth, of course, is far more complex.

"Yes, it really is a shame. Although I suppose we'd still both have ended up here, regardless." She stubs out her cigarette, leaning in towards him a little now. "So you found somewhere else after New York, then?"

He lights another cigarette before responding. "In a manner of speaking. I created somewhere else."

And he hadn't been lying when he'd said she would have been a good addition to it. Perhaps not now, with things as they were, but in the early days, the days when things had been going so well, and people had been hopeful. He had always had an appreciation for art, after all.

Had anyone else been speaking, she might have looked a little skeptical, but he seems just the sort of man who could do it. Her eyes widen in wonder. "You created your own city?"

"I did. I was fed up with the things I'd seen in the United States, the very things I'd left Russia to avoid. The expansion of socialist New Deal policies, all while decrying communism; the misuse of science throughout the war; the censorship and reactionary nonsense governing our art, media, and literature. I chose to break away from that entirely."

He doesn't mean to give mini-speeches, but it happens with some regularity. And, frankly, nobody in the City has thus far seemed particularly interested in his ideals. She's a nice change from that.

That look of wonder doesn't leave her face, and as he speaks, as she feels how impassioned he is about these ideals, and hears it in his voice, it slowly changes to a mixture of awe and respect. How wonderful it must be, to have the resolve, not to mention the know-how and the resources, to break away from the existing society and create one of your own.

"I was a child during the New Deal, so I didn't have many thoughts on it one way or the other, but I remember my grandfather decrying a lot of the policies with some regularity. Private companies should have been allowed to do all that, not government agencies, he'd say, and I have to agree. I suppose America hasn't gotten much better, really. The war sapped me of every bit of patriotism I had. I've been trying - I was out on the campaign trail for General Eisenhower to get the presidency, before I arrived here, and I do think he's by far the best option the States has, but ... I suppose it's as much to prove to my decriers that I'm not as un-American as they'd tell everyone." She beams a radiant smile at him. "I do wish that I could have lived in your city, Andrew."