allbedestroyed | A black tie adventure with doesntsing

Midge doesn’t know what to expect from tonight. It was surprising that Robert asked her, but maybe she’s a calming presence to him. That’s kind of surprising in and of itself, but Midge does know how to take charge of situations. She’s an extrovert and she likes socializing. Robert said that he just wanted someone to talk to so that he can get through this obligation, but if Midge can help smooth anything over, she will. Unfortunately, she hates rich asshole businessmen too, so she might end up not making the situation worse for him instead. It’s a crapshoot!

Speaking of rich, Midge’s building on the Upper West Side is clearly on the higher end of the socioeconomic scale. She answers the door quickly when he rings the bell.

“Hey.” Midge grins at him. “Let’s go.”

“Miriam,” calls a female voice from within the apartment. “I thought you weren’t leaving for another hour?”

“Nope, leaving now!” Midge calls back as she steps into the hall. “Bye Mama, bye Papa.”

“Aren’t you going to introduce-?”

The closing of the door cuts off the rest of the sentence. Midge exhales and looks at Robert. “Trust me. If you’re already stressed enough about this party, you don’t need to add meeting my parents to it.”

Both of them have decided that this isn’t a date. Midge told her parents it isn’t a date. Still, she knows that they would be analyzing him like a potential suitor, and Robert doesn’t need that if he’s already on edge.

She’s wearing a red evening gown with a pearl necklace and pearl earrings. She also has on long opera gloves and a fur stole to help keep her warm against the chilly December air.

“You clean up well,” Midge tells him, putting her hand in the crook of his arm. He is, undoubtedly, older than her. Even though she’s only 27, she has a maturity about her that was born of being divorced with two kids. Getting married, having children, and then separating helps a person to grow up really fast. “Shall we?”

She'll have to excuse the way he brightens when he sees her. After all, when she's looking as beautiful as she is, it's impossible for the warden not to be impressed. Thankfully they're both distracted by the other voice, and Muldoon's brow lifts just a little at hearing her parents are both nearby. Especially with Midge's warning. Yes, best head on before he has time to make a bad impression.

"Thank you," he says a bit belatedly as he starts them back to the car. "You look stunning."

Date or not, he will open the door for her, and close it once she's gotten herself and that lovely dress inside, before getting into the driver's seat himself. He waits until he's gotten them on the road before glancing over at Midge. "How are you?"

“Thanks,” she replies. Midge meant what she said about him cleaning up well. He looks quite sharp in a tux.

Opening the door for her is the polite and gentlemanly thing to do, and she appreciates it. “I’m well, thanks,” Midge says, looking over at him behind the steering wheel. Robert’s always rather serious, but he looks particularly stiff tonight. “It’s going to be fine.” Midge reaches out and pats him on the arm. She’s going to try to read the room and help him in the best way that she can.

“Is it weird driving on the right side of the road?” Maybe a subject change will help.

A smile is about the height of what people get from Muldoon. He's not a laugher. Seriousness is too embedded into his features and demeanour, and he often forgets how hard his expression is. He definitely doesn't realise he's showing how worried he is until Midge pats his arm. The gesture is enough to get a brief, appreciative smile and for him to try and look like he's relaxing even if he isn't.

The subject change does help. Mostly because it takes him a second to realise that she doesn't necessarily know that Kenya drives on the left, but it's his accent which gives the habit away. Still, the double take means he takes a second to answer.

"A little, but I've had a lot of practice. Especially recently. I've been in Costa Rica and they drive on the right as well." Sticking with the subject change, he glances over at her. "Have you ever been?"

Well. Now Midge feels like it’s her mission to get a laugh out of him. What kind of comedian would she be if she didn’t take on that challenge?

She knows that Kenya and England were somewhere in his childhood, based on his accent and what he had told her previously.

Midge shakes her head. “No. I’ve been up to Canada and to Europe. That’s it. I’m sure you’ve been to far more exotic places.”

"I've been all over the place," he confirms. It's a privilege he's well aware he has, though he hasn't been to many of the stereotypical holiday spots. Besides, he finds it much easier to talk about other people.

"Canada's nice," he offers. "Where in Europe were you?"

The drive won't be long, but he does want to get to know her better while he has the opportunity. It will be a bit more difficult around other people.

“You must have some incredible stories.” Midge thought she was worldly, but she’s got nothing on him, even if New York seems like the center of the universe.

“Mostly France because my mother speaks fluent French. Paris. Switzerland for skiing. I’ve also been to London. Where in England did you say you were from?”

It wasn’t London, if she recalls correctly.

"I like to think so. Many of them aren't suitable for polite company, though." As his boss often reminds him in preparation for things like this.

Paris, London and Switzerland seem very fitting for a classy woman like Midge. They're some very city-centric answers, too, he notes. Before he can ask any follow up questions of his own, Midge has beaten him to it.

"Leeds, in Yorkshire," he answers. Just in case that doesn't mean anything he clarifies, "It's up in the north of England. I haven't spent much time in London, but I remember the museums."

She gets another glance before he asks, "Do you speak French?"

“Good thing there’s no polite company here,” Midge says. If Robert’s seen her act (and she’s not sure if he has), he would know that her sense of humor is ribald. She’s not easily offended.

Midge nods. “I’ve heard of it, though I’ve never been there.” Most of her life has been spent in cities and that’s generally where she prefers to be. Maybe she just hasn’t been to the types of rural places that would hold her interest.

“Non,” she replies. “Tres petite.” That’s probably not how to say that she knows very little French, but that only underscores her point. “I speak Hebrew and Russian, though I read and understand them far better than I can speak them.”

Midge turns to look at him. “What other languages do you speak?” It’s an assumption that he does, based on the fact that he travels so much.

Although he hasn't seen her act, he suspected she has a rougher side. That she happily confirms as much gets a small smile from him. As does the confirmation that she's never been to Yorkshire. It's not exactly a glamorous destination.

"Très bien." Some French is always better than no French, after all. A sentiment felt across the world.

His brow lifts, clearly impressed by her skills. Neither language is familiar to him, and they're not common choices in the circles he usually frequents.

"I speak Swahili, decent French, and a bit of Spanish and Portuguese." With his answers rattled off, he lets his brow furrow as he asks, "Why Russian?"

Russian is the odd language out there, isn’t it? “My degree is in Russian Literature. Yes, it’s exactly as useless as it sounds.”

Midge hadn’t gone to college so much to get a degree as she did to find a husband. And she had. Then, after 5 years of marriage and 2 kids, he cheated on her with his secretary. There’s been a lot of wasted time in her life, something Midge is keen to not continue.

“My father’s family is Russian and my grandmother used to tell me folktales when I was a kid.” Russian Literature had seemed like an easy enough major, though it really wasn’t. She had to learn at least some Russian to do it.

They pull up in front of the hotel where the party is going to be held and a valet approaches the car.

Ah, here's where things get unfamiliar. Private conversations suit the warden perfectly. Everything that happens as soon as he steps out of the car? Not so much.

Both their doors are opened for them, and Muldoon hands off the keys before offering his arm to Midge. He's never been to this part of the city, or to a building like this. It looks like it could be a hotel, but more private, for the upper echelon only. The two of them are guided along to a sprawling room filled with well dressed people, mostly of the older generation. Midge might feel Muldoon get tense as he looks around, trying to see past the expensive suits and glistening jewellery to see if there's a quiet spot out of the way he can hide in.

Instead a familiar face appears from the crowd, a short, white haired man with a cane and a smile full of character. "Robert! There you are! And you brought a friend!" Muldoon doesn't get a chance to say anything before Midge is offered a hand for a warm, firm shake. "John Hammond, delighted to meet you."

"John is my boss, and the reason we're here tonight," Muldoon finally gets in. "John, this is Miriam Maisel."

Robert looks like he’s about to go to his own funeral. Poor thing. She squeezes his arm as they walk in. It’s a typical black tie affair with people dressed to the nines and waiters walking around with glasses of champagne and hors d’ouvres.

The man who approaches them seems gregarious and is not, she presumes, one of the asshole businessmen that Robert’s company is trying to get money out of tonight. He confirms her assumption and she shakes Hammond’s hand. “Midge, please,” she says. “It’s nice to meet you.”

It occurs to her that she doesn’t know exactly what this company does. Robert is a game warden. Perhaps it’s some kind of large animal breeding scheme for hunters?

"Wonderful, wonderful!" John is all smiles in greeting Midge, pausing only to flag down one of the waiters so that he can pass both of them a drink. "Maybe you can help Robert blow his own trumpet. He's never been very good at showing off, but that's why he's here today."

Muldoon opens his mouth to protest (mostly to stop the conversation being focused on him), but John ignores him and presses on. "Did you see the Sunday Times article on him? What was it they said? Ah! Yes! 'What Robert Trent Jones is to gold courses, Robert Muldoon is to zoos'. Really very impressive."

Impressive or not, Muldoon is putting all his effort into trying not to cringe. It's not helped by John turning to Muldoon and adding, "There are some people I'd like you to talk to. You wait here while I find them."

It's an order, not a question, so he doesn't wait for an answer before he heads off.

Muldoon frowns down at the bubbling drink and sighs. "This isn't going to be strong enough."

“I’ll try my best,” Midge replies. The problem is that she doesn’t know about all of Robert’s accomplishments. He pretty famously doesn’t like talking about himself. “I didn’t,” she says regarding the newspaper article and turning to look at Robert, who looks like he just wants to sink through the expensive carpet.

Hammond hurries off and Midge sips her champagne. “You’re a zoo design maverick,” she says, a note of wonder in her voice.

He’s right about the champagne though. Thankfully, there’s a bar. Midge catches one of the waiters as he walks by.

“Say, would you be able to get us a martini and…” Midge glances back at Robert and makes an educated guess. “A whiskey, please?”

The guess is right on the nose, and Muldoon relaxes at the very mention of it. He nods. "A whiskey would be great."

As the waiter heads off to get them proper drinks, Muldoon nods again to Midge's statement. "I'm a wildlife consultant. I design enclosures and habitats and try to make sure both humans and animals are happy. But I'm much better at dealing with the animals..."

He trails off as he spots a couple of older gentlemen heading their way. The champagne is downed, since that's all he has to work with. Soon enough there are hands being offered and the night begins in earnest.

"Good evening. I'm James Dixon, this is Dax Gilbert and Mason Bennett. You're Hammond's man, aren't you?" One of them starts. Muldoon only gets so far as to answer in the affirmative before the attention is switched to Midge. "And who is this beautiful thing? You're definitely not one of Hammond's."

Midge doesn’t get a chance to ask him more about that before Robert is downing his drink and the bigwigs are approaching.

They’re introduced and Midge shakes their hands, knowing that she won’t remember any of their names.

“I’m not,” she confirms with a dazzling smile. “I’m Midge.”

“Is this your kid sister, Muldoon?” Asks one of the guys, making the other two laugh. “Is she joining us for the negotiations?”

The three men look from Robert to Midge trying to figure out what they are to each other. Surely they’re not a couple?

Muldoon opens his mouth to answer, probably with something far less witty than the occasion calls for, but he's interrupted again.

"Definitely not his sister," another pipes up. "Unless she got all the good looks!"

That gets a laugh out of his friends who are certainly enjoying this game. The third man, buoyed by the others, chimes in with the faux scolding of, "Now, now. Don't make assumptions. He probably just met her in the foyer. You're not hogging her all to yourself, are you Muldoon?"

"No, I-."

And again gets interrupted with chuckling and a, "Of course not. Good man."

Midge wrinkles her nose, because these guys are more disgusting than she expected them to be and they’re treating Robert awfully. He can’t even get a word in. She makes a split second decision, the consequences of which she does not think all the way through.

“He’s my boyfriend!” In the silence that follows, Midge composes herself and rephrases. “We’ve been seeing each other for a few weeks.” The hand that’s on his elbow moves discreetly down to slip into his.

The men are absolutely stunned, which is the response that Midge was hoping for. They’ve finally shut up.

“Did you want to say something, darling?” she asks, turning to Robert.

Muldoon's head swivels to join in on looking at Midge in surprise. He's quick to school it into a more neutral expression when she elaborates on her bluff. It is, however, difficult to form words when she turns the attention back onto him.

"Yes," though he has no idea what. He has to think up something quickly. "We've been going out for a few weeks now, and they've been wonderful." Finding his feet again, he turns his attention back to the other man. "I was hoping to show her the nicer side of my work tonight."

Finally the waiter reappears with their drinks and Muldoon seizes onto it. "Ah, here we are. We can start the night properly now."

It took him a second, but he improvised wonderfully. She grins, trying to look adoring, though she really is proud of him for not completely freezing.

“And what a nice side it is,” she agrees, mostly playing it up for the jerks they need money from. “Far cleaner, I’m sure.”

When the drinks come, Midge is just as grateful as Robert is. They swap out their champagne glasses and Midge takes a swig of her martini.

“I have to say, Muldoon, I didn’t think you were capable of pulling this caliber of woman,” says Dixon. The jerks look impressed, but also suspicious. “I hope that you and your… girlfriend will have a lovely evening before we discuss how much money we’re going to give to your wonderful organization. Pleasure before business tonight, right?”

If he wasn't trying to get back at them, Muldoon would be inclined to agree. Midge is much younger, prettier, and sophisticated than he would expect to go out with, but they don't need to know that.

"I'm going to make sure she does," he answers in complete and utter honesty. He already owes Midge and they've only just stepped in through the door. "She deserves the best."

Spotting the barest glimpse of his boss, Muldoon takes the inspiration for a getaway. "If you'll excuse us, I think John is looking to make some introductions." He gives a polite nod before putting his hand on Midge's back to help guide her away.

Once they're a safe distance, he leans in as surreptitiously as possible to mutter a quiet, "Thank you."

Midge is expecting that he’s about to let her have it, so hearing him thank her is a surprise. Apparently her little stunt didn’t make him angry.

They stop a few feet from where Hammond is in conversation with someone else and Midge reaches up to straighten Robert’s bow tie - something that doesn’t need to be done but can be interpreted as an intimate gesture.

“They don’t believe us,” Midge says. “They think we’re lying or that you paid me or something. We’re going to have to make them believe that we’re actually dating.”

Before he can protest, Midge puts her hand on his chest. “Men like that think that their money can buy them whatever they want. One of them’s probably going to try to buy me tonight. I’m predicting the weaselly looking one. They’re probably already on second wives that are younger than me and have mistresses the same age. You’re not going to be able to appeal to any sort of love of animals they have. But if they think you’re like them, they’ll at least respect you enough to open their wallets.”

From Muldoon's perspective she'd just gotten him out of a little embarrassment. It's not until suddenly she's touching him and explaining things to him that he starts to realise that this isn't a one-conversation solution.

She even predicts his impending protest, placing her hand on his chest and reading out the behaviours of their prior company with the same ease and confidence he does a pack of hyenas. It's impressive, both the knowledge and the calmness with which she suggests they might try to buy her. That might be a problem. He would probably do something ill advised if someone insulted her like that.

Muldoon looks from her to the men and back again, blinking a little. After a second to take it all in, he focuses on her and offers, "We could leave? I won't have them being rude to you, and the last thing I want is for you to be uncomfortable."

“No,” she says with a shake of her head. “Your boss wants you here because he thinks you can be helpful. We can’t leave until those guys decide how much money they’re going to give you. It’s very gallant of you to be concerned about me, but don’t be. Trust me. I can handle them.”

Midge looks up to find Hammond staring at them. She takes her hand off of Robert’s chest.

A black tie adventure with doesntsing

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