allbedestroyed | A black tie adventure with doesntsing

“I’m a stand up comedian,” she says, waiting for the inevitable reaction of disbelief from people. Midge supposes that she is working, even if gigs are sporadic and one of her steady sources of income is being the hostess of the show at a burlesque club. (Her clothing stays on.)

“Wait… I think I’ve seen you before,” one of the men says. “Mrs. Maisel, right?”

“That’s me,” Midge admits with a smile. Her stage name will always be a tribute to her ex-husband, whether she likes it or not.

“Hey, you’re pretty funny,” the man continues. “And uh… uncensored.”

“Until the cops show up,” Midge says, laughing to make a joke of it when it’s not a joke at all. She’s been arrested for obscenity twice.

There is indeed some disbelief, Hammond is the first to voice his surprise. "A comedian? And you're dating Robert?" To be fair, it's a reasonable thing to be surprised about. The man so rarely smiles, never mind laughs. "Well I suppose if anyone is going to make him laugh it would be a professional."

"We should go to one of your shows sometime soon," one of the wives pipes up. The 'uncensored' comment has her eyeing the woman suspiciously, and it's hard to tell if that's an excited suggestion or a threat.

Evidently the men don't seem to have twigged. "That would be an eventful night out."

“Exactly,” she replies with a grin. “I have my work cut out for me.” Midge turns to Robert, just to make sure that he isn’t upset by the teasing, but he seems amused. It’s clear that he has a genuine affection for his boss. Midge puts her hand on his chest again briefly.

“I can leave some dates of my upcoming shows with Mr. Hammond,” she continues. Now she has to think of which ones are at suitable clubs and not dive bars or the strip joint. Susie did manage to get her some decent gigs recently, if Midge can remember when they are.

The conversation continues until eventually the two of them excuse themselves. Midge is glad to have Robert to herself again. “You did a good job,” she tells him. “Some people really do like hearing about your passion for animals.”

"I think they enjoyed talking to you more." Which is an honest assumption and one he wouldn't be surprised about either. Midge is a natural conversationalist.

After a healthy swig of his drink he feels the need to add, "I really didn't mean for you to be pretending to be my girlfriend all night." He looks at her with earnest gratitude then. "But I'm very glad you're here. I'd really much rather deal with lions and tigers. Yet you seem to know exactly what you're doing."

“It’s alright,” Midge says. “Maybe I don’t mind pretending.” It’s her first hint of real flirtation that she’s done with him all night. “Especially if it helps to seal whatever deal Hammond is trying to make. People can be like lions and tigers sometimes.”

Midge has to be able to read a room, otherwise her sets would flop every time. Sometimes she has to pivot in the middle of a set too, if a crowd isn’t responding to something like she thought they would.

“Maybe it’s the unpredictable nature of people that unnerves you.”

She puts her hand back in his as they walk slowly around the ballroom, just in case any eyes happen to be on them. And maybe she kind of likes holding his hand, just a little.

Unlike Midge, Muldoon doesn't have to be as good at wordplay. He's not sure what best to say back, but the fact that he goes a little red behind the ears should be sign enough that he hears the flirtatious undertone.

"Animals are unpredictable," he points out, because that much he does know. "But at least they make sense when they do something unpredictable. People at these things never come out and say what they mean."

Looking at her he gestures with his free hand as he explains. "For example, you're beautiful, and exciting, and charismatic, and independent. But rather than say any of that, everyone else here would rather make jabs about us being together. It doesn't make sense! Anyone who talks to you for two minutes could tell you do what you want, so that's why you'd be with me. It's a terrible way to compliment you."

What he’s explaining is practical and makes sense, but Midge remains stuck on the way he describes her.

“Am I?” She asks, a smile playing at her lips. “Those things?”

A band is taking its place at the end of a makeshift dance floor and some of the couples in attendance shift over to it.

“Not a lot of people say what they mean, and there are different reasons for that,” Midge continues. “Some people see someone unconventional, like you, and think that it’s an opportunity to make themselves feel better about whatever faults they have.”

She pauses to sip her martini. “Someone like me being with someone like you doesn’t make sense to them because they’ve used money to get women to pay attention to them. If you don’t have money, why would we be together? There isn’t a lot of genuine affection in their world.”

He looks a little incredulous at the question. "Of course you are."

While her surprise might make no sense to him, the explanation of people tearing others down rings true. He tips his head in a shrug of agreement. That much he's seen plenty of, even if it's not usually in this context. Even women looking for men with money is familiar enough, but to this extent? Less so.

She's got him all thoughtful now, evening out his pace as he walks with her hand in his. He doesn't really register the band.

"I suppose if genuine affection got into their world it would wreak havoc. Love is probably the most unpredictable thing there is."

It’s one thing to hear people give you compliments, but another when it comes from someone like Robert, who doesn’t just say things to flatter people. “Thank you,” Midge replies, her cheeks turning pink.

“Love is very unpredictable,” she agrees. Midge wonders if he’s ever been in love before.

They leave the ballroom and enter an atrium that serves as a sort of greenhouse with a number of plants and trees lining the walkways. A place like this might make Robert feel more comfortable, even if there are no animals.

“Would you like to sit?” She asks, pointing to a pair of comfortable chairs. There are a few people milling around, but they’re away from the crowd of the party now.

"Sure," is the easy answer. Really he could stand all night, but she's the one wearing heels. If she wants to sit, he's not going to stop her.

Muldoon lets Midge sit first before following, being careful not to sit on her dress. It's really very pretty and he doesn't want to ruin it. That would be a poor way of thanking her for coming along.

The atrium is a much more peaceful place, and it gets a sigh out of him. "You've been to this sort of thing before? Voluntarily?"

They’re seated together on a bench, close, though not close enough to be touching. She appreciates that he’s taking care with her dress, considering that it’s Dior. Not that that probably means anything to him.

“I have,” she confirms, biting her lip a little so as to keep a straight face. “Voluntarily.”

Poor thing. He seems miserable. Midge hopes that she’s able to at least bring some joy to him tonight.

“You go into cages with lions voluntarily,” she says teasingly.

That means nothing to him, but then it could be home made and he'd still be careful.

"Yes, but I can punch a lion in the jaw if he gets too cocky," he points out in a mumble. "You go somewhere where someone insults you to your face and you have to smile." Tilting his head at her he reiterates, "Voluntarily."

Midge’s martini glass stops halfway to her mouth.

“Have you punched a lion before?” Midge asks incredulously. He’s not the type of man to joke about something if hasn’t done it or wouldn’t do it.

“Yes,” she confirms. “I can’t punch them in the face, but I can insult them subtly. Or tell them to fuck off if they don’t get the message.”

Midge isn’t sure if she’s used that kind of language around him before. Surely the words themselves won’t shock him, but he may be shocked to hear them coming out of her.

The image of Midge telling someone outright to fuck off does get a smile out of him. He's been around women who've cursed before, but she manages to make it sound a lot sharper, even when not directing it at him (and that fact is the only reason he lets himself smile).

"I wouldn't mind seeing that. To get tips, of course." Then he can hide his smile behind a sip of his drink.

"And yes, I have punched a lion before. But I generally try not to let things get that close."

“Of course.”

She likes getting smiles out of him. Maybe eventually she’ll get a laugh.

Meanwhile, the fact that he’s punched a lion is really doing something for her. There are men and then there are men. And he does it without being a hypermasculine idiot. Can anyone really wonder why a woman might be attracted to a man like that? Midge feels her pulse pick up and a longing begin to form deep inside of her.

“I’m sure you only would do it as a last resort,” she says. “You carry a gun too, right?”

"Well the lion was trying to maul my friend so I feel it was justified." He can joke too, even if it is a lot drier than most people prefer. It's the British streak in him.

The question about the gun gets a bemused sort of smile. "Yes, I carry a gun. Usually a pistol just in case, or a rifle as well if things are more dangerous..." Then he has to know, "Why do you ask?"

Midge enjoys a dry sense of humor. “That does seem impolite, so yes, you were justified.” British humor is lovely.

She shrugs. “Just making sure that you’re staying safe out there,” she replies. “I’m sure that’s a last resort as well.”

Despite being an American, she’s not enamored by men with guns, though the idea of Robert carrying one around is also attractive to her. She’s probably making it a lot more romantic in her mind than it actually is. They can blame Hollywood for that.

Though he pretends to nod seriously, it doesn't smother his smile at all. Hopefully now she can rest easy knowing that she made his night more enjoyable.

"It is. I don't want to kill animals if I can help it. Sometimes a right hook saves both man and lion." There's a small smile and a shrug before he admits, "It was my father's great disappointment. He wanted me to shoot professionally. Got me into competitions. He'll tell anyone who'd listen that I could have gone to the Olympics." Before Midge can get the wrong idea he adds, "I couldn't have, but that doesn't stop him from saying so."

Midge grins at him, not able to hide it anymore. What’s the point? He probably already knows that he makes her smile.

“So you’re a good shot too.” It’s not a question, but a confirmation of facts. Midge rests her arm on the back of the bench and then props her head up with her hand. She leans in towards him. “A man who punches lions and is good with a gun. I’d say those are qualities that someone might find attractive, no?”

She knows that she’s probably going to have to spell it out for him, since he doesn’t seem to think that there’s any reason why someone like her would find him attractive.

"In the African bush, yes." With that bemused expression back, it's safe to say that Midge has got him down. The silly man is clueless.

It's not that he thinks he's entirely unattractive, or completely devoid of charm, but... just look at her, listen to her. She probably knows how to eat with more than one set of cutlery at the table. Not to mention how young and pretty she is. Men are most definitely clamouring to get a date with her. Richer, younger, more handsome men.

That doesn't mean he's scared off having fun with her. He leans in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Are you getting ready to defend my honour against the men we met earlier?"

He has a point, of course, and Midge isn’t blind to that fact. But it’s not as if he’s a bridge troll or a gargoyle. He’s a nice guy with attractive qualities. His stoicism gives him an air of mystery, something else that a lot of women find attractive. A man could be young and rich but a complete asshole. She wouldn’t want anything to do with a man like that.

Midge realizes that he thinks she’s trying to come up with reasons that she might find him attractive, not realizing that she does find him attractive. “I am,” she replies. She’s about to try to clarify herself when she notices Hammond approaching.

“There you two are,” he says. “I hope I’m not interrupting an intimate moment, but I wanted to let you know that the dancing has started.” Hammond pauses. “Well, I wanted to let Midge know, at least.”

“Perfect,” she says, eying Robert with a slightly devious smile. “Shall we?”

Muldoon is ready to continue out this hypothetical knight-Midge conversation when Hammond appears. The new of music and dancing is enough to wipe off his expression into one of concern again.

"I don't really dance very well..."

"Oh come on," Hammond insists, waving the two of them over to the ballroom. "You're on your feet all day every day, you just need to move them a little. It's easy, Midge will show you."

Uncertain as he is, the pressure is enough to get Muldoon to his feet and heading vaguely in the right direction. Once Hammond isn't talking over him he feels obliged to give Midge fair warning.

"I'm not a good dancer. I don't want to step on your toes."

Midge isn't terribly surprised that Robert doesn't dance. She's sure Hammond knows that, so maybe he's just trying to intercede on her behalf. Little does he know that Midge would try to make him dance with her if she wanted him to. She's not a shrinking violet.

She takes Robert's arm. "He's right. I'll show you."

Thankfully, when they get back into the ballroom, a slow jazz song is just starting. That's much easier to dance to than something upbeat. They pause at the edge of the dance floor and Midge leans in to speak to Robert quietly.

"When we're out there, you need to hold me," she says. "You're not dancing with your sister. You understand?"

If he doesn't, she'll show him that too.

"Alright." He thinks he understands, but given that he can't remember the last time he danced with a woman he's still making a bit of a guess.

Taking her hand, he leads her out into a space on the dance floor before taking her up in his arms. The hand on her back is a bit on the high side, but at least he doesn't have any problem holding her hand, or holding her close.

None of which stops him from asking, "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"It's fine, unless you're really that bad of a dancer." Their bodies are pressed together, which is what she meant. A man wouldn't hold his girlfriend at arm's length. They have to look comfortable with each other. Midge hopes that any discomfort that might be portrayed will be chocked up to Robert's nervousness about dancing.

Their faces are close together, though he's taller than her, so her eyes reach about where his nose is. "Don't worry about steps," Midge says. "Just move with me." She's going to try to subtly lead without it being very noticeable.

A black tie adventure with doesntsing

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