Dr Danny Castellano (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
so_catholic) wrote2014-09-26 01:18 am
so_catholic) wrote2014-09-26 01:18 am
Entry tags:
[for Elle]
It’s not the first time Danny’s faked a medical emergency to escape a date but it’s definitely the only time said date has turned up at the same bar as him when he’s supposed to be elbow-deep in placenta.
He doesn’t not like Amanda. He just likes foreign places, the Latino Grammies and low cal muffins more, which doesn’t exactly bode well for any kind of future with her. Maybe if that future involved a permanent white noise machine and separate cities they’d stand a chance. Right now, Danny would settle for separate drinking establishments but it’s clearly too late for that. She’s clocked him not far from the dance floor, a look of surprise, then confusion, then fury on her face, and in the heat of the moment, he chooses more lies over honesty or an apology.
He makes a beeline towards the bar, only stopping when she yells out his name over the music in the same tone she’d used to send back five different appetisers a few nights before on their first (second? third? they all run into one) date.
“Breathe! Breathe!” He latches onto the arm of the nearest woman to him, a lithe blond but that’s all he notices. He’s too busy Lamaze breathing at her, which irritates him no end because it makes him sound like Deslaurier. Only medical intervention truly aids a woman during childbirth but desperate times… “Oh boy, this baby’s coming! Amanda, hey!” The forced cheer is overshadowed by the dramatic gesturing at the blond (clearly-not-pregnant) woman. “Just dealing with this medical emergency. Don’t worry, ma’am, I’ll have this child out of you in no time.” He turns his body in towards her, lowering his voice. “Please help me.”
He doesn’t not like Amanda. He just likes foreign places, the Latino Grammies and low cal muffins more, which doesn’t exactly bode well for any kind of future with her. Maybe if that future involved a permanent white noise machine and separate cities they’d stand a chance. Right now, Danny would settle for separate drinking establishments but it’s clearly too late for that. She’s clocked him not far from the dance floor, a look of surprise, then confusion, then fury on her face, and in the heat of the moment, he chooses more lies over honesty or an apology.
He makes a beeline towards the bar, only stopping when she yells out his name over the music in the same tone she’d used to send back five different appetisers a few nights before on their first (second? third? they all run into one) date.
“Breathe! Breathe!” He latches onto the arm of the nearest woman to him, a lithe blond but that’s all he notices. He’s too busy Lamaze breathing at her, which irritates him no end because it makes him sound like Deslaurier. Only medical intervention truly aids a woman during childbirth but desperate times… “Oh boy, this baby’s coming! Amanda, hey!” The forced cheer is overshadowed by the dramatic gesturing at the blond (clearly-not-pregnant) woman. “Just dealing with this medical emergency. Don’t worry, ma’am, I’ll have this child out of you in no time.” He turns his body in towards her, lowering his voice. “Please help me.”
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The last time he'd let someone down gently, giant photos of his genitals had been exhibited around New York City for every Tom, Dic--everyone to see. Danny much prefers the avoidance technique. Ignore something for long enough and it has to go away at some point. His theory isn't fool-proof though, even he knows that. Some things are proving impossible to shake off, even in Darrow.
"In my experience honesty isn't much kinder."
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"Yeah, maybe you're right," she says. "But at least you know you tried. And sometimes it's faster, 'cause, like, I know people that will just keep calling for months. Good luck with her, though."
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