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[for Elle]
Sep. 26th, 2014 01:18 amIt’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.”
