Aerie Hotel Lobby
Exotic and elegant, the Aerie Hotel's lobby is awash with color. The arching walls curve overhead, forming a dome. The upper section of the dome is of clear plasglass, allowing a view of the rooms above, and allowing resort guests to peek into the lobby. The lower sections of the walls are bright with gryphonic art: paintings and feathers and sculptures of all media. Gryphon-staff mill about the room, especially at the west end of the room, where a large desk suggests a check-in point. Closer to the center of the room, couches and large cushions intersperse with tables, allowing places for guests to meet.
Contents:
Clara
Obvious exits:
Wide Stairway Ballroom Verge
Clara is at a side table, actually fitting in the other well-dressed patrons of the hotel, and looking every inch a lady in the sage green dress and heels. The gentleman across from her is in his mid-forties, urbane, handsome, and equally well-dressed, and the two seem to be discussing something over a laptop computer on the table.
Tall, dark hair flecked with streaks of gray several shades lighter than his gray eyes, and slightly olive skinned, Gerard Traum, Esq. is a lawyer through and through, but by no means an ambulance chaser. His expensive looking suit is well tailored of dark gray wool, a painfully white dress shirt beneath with a burgundy silk tie. Pleasant, well mannered, and with a distinct French accent, he is seldom seen without his briefcase.
Tara isn't, granted, looking -quite- as good as the doctor, most likely, but she's in clothes probably nobody in the Complex ever expected her to wear... an actual -suit-. Striding through the lobby, she glances around idly, pausing with an expression of surprise when she spots Clara.
Clara explains something with a faint gesture of her hand, then points at the laptops screen before glancing back and happening to catch sight of Tara. Her brows lift at the woman's attire, but she actually does seem pleased to see you, and waves amiably. "Tara...do you have a moment?" she calls over.
Tara nods amiably, glancing toward the gentleman with a polite smile as she approaches the pair. "I'm always at your disposal, Clara. What's up?"
"Tara, I'd like you to meet Monsieur Gerard Traum. Traum, this is Tara Valentine, the businesswoman whose capital we've been discussing," Clara explains pleasantly, and the man rises to his feet in the attempt to take your hand and bow over it. "Madame Valentine. It is a pleasure," Traum offers, a French accent coloring his words.
Tara ahs softly, looking perhaps a bit surprised but still downright charmed at the hand-bowing thing. Though an eyebrow quirks at the title used, her smile warms a bit. "Pleased to meet you, sir, I'm sure." She casts a quick, inquisitive glance toward the doctor.
Clara returns the inquisitive look with a quick impish grin that's at odds with her high-society appearance, and a slight shrug, then gestures at another chair. "Join us for a few moments? Or if you've other business to attend to, Traum and I can get some lunch and make an appointment with you for later?"
"Oui," the lawyer explains agreeably, even moving to hold out the extra chair for you. "I caught a flight earlier from Terra to discuss matters with Doctor Aleron, and did hope to meet you."
Tara blinks. "Oh!" Agreeably she moves to slip into the held chair, and it's probably apparent these kinds of manners she could get used to. "I've a bit of time," she admits, crossing her legs. "I just came from a meeting, supposed to meet somebody here about a present for Greer's birthday, but," she gestures slightly, indicating the room, "That somebody appears to be a no-show."
Clara murmurs a phrase in French to the lawyer at his slightly puzzled look, and the man ahhs softly and nods. "A gift indeed? If there is anything we can do to help, please, you have but to ask," Traum offers, sliding into his own seat easily and tugging some papers out of his briefcase. "Greer's birthday is coming up, Tara?" Clara tacks on curiously.
Tara blushes a little. Very sheepish, she shakes her head. "I miscalculated the date. It was almost a week ago. Thank heavens she's so understanding." The lawyer gets a curious look along with a smile. "I appreciate that, sir."
Clara winces slightly, looking dismayed, and reaches down to her purse to extract a datapad and tap something into it. "She's a wonderful child," she agrees thoughtfully, then leans back in her chair. "Traum returned with the contract you gave me, and I'm prepared to assist in financing your venture, although we'd like to add some stipulations," she adds, almost apologetically.
Tara spreads her hands, giving Clara a reassuring smile even as she gives the lawyer a nod. "You're certainly intriguing me."
Traum taps the paperwork on the table, then scoots it over and lifts up several pages to refer to a neatly printed page of amendments, although it's only one or two. "The contract was really quiet straight forward, Madame. I commend the lawyer you contracted here on Linnae for his fine work. However, given your...prior occupation, my partners and I felt it prudent that should you for some reason lose control of the assets, an imminent bankruptcy, other legal entanglements, that O'Neill Enterprises have the first option of buying out your stock."
Tara reaches out for the paperwork, flipping through it slowly. "I fail to see the disadvantage in that on either side, Monsieur?" The French word is uttered with -just- a touch of awkwardness; it's not a language she's familiar with.
"That was my reaction," Clara interjects with a hint of amusement. "A shipping company isn't precisely something that could hurt the Family, although this is a venture that won't involve the Family unless necessary."
Traum nods in agreement, gesturing a pen at the documents. "It really is a common deal, for investors. Please, feel free to have your lawyer look over the revised terms, Madame. Should the terms be to your liking, Doctor Aleron has proposed to finance four hundred shares of your stock. Not controlling interest, but hopefully helpful."
Tara's eyes widen, though she tries to control her reaction. She manages to keep her smile from turning into a grin, at any rate. "That's quite... generous of Doctor Aleron." She pauses consideringly for a few moments, glances toward Clara, then beckons for the pen. "Good business practice or no, I know who I can trust."
Clara lifts a hand lightly as Traum hands over the pen gallantly. "Tara, before you sign, let me just say that I keep my business life and personal life seperate. What you see now today is Clara Aleron, heir to the O'Neill estates. This isn't me, really. I don't discuss this outside of business deals. So after this, unless there's a problem, I'd appreciate it if I were relegated to the status of silent investor."
"As Miss Clara say," Traum agrees. "Many of her personal ventures are of this status. Of course, I will give you my card, should you have any questions."
Tara laughs wryly. "Understood, Clara. That's better for both of us, in my opinion. The name 'O'Neill' dose... can... make people leery. But I don't think that means I can't trust you." She quirks an eyebrow at the lawyer for the 'Miss Clara' nominative, but gives him a nod. "That seems prudent."
Traum looks somewhat sheepish at the use of the monikor, as if it slipped out without his realizing it. Clara however grins slightly, inclining her head. "Why do you think I don't talk about it? Most people don't know at all."
Tara nods with a faint but approving grin, fanning out the papers slightly as she leans forward to begin signages. "I think I can relate, to a certain extent."
Clara's signatures are already all in place, surprisingly readable for her profession. "Excellent," she replies, looking rather relieved and trading several rapid statements in French with Traum that cause the lawyer to actually grin broadly. "Oui, madamoiselle," he murmurs, then tilts his head. "Madame Valentine, the Doctor is on duty today, but my flight is not until the morning. Now that the business is consummated, would you care to dine with me?"
Tara catches the relief, and gives Clara a curious look, but her attention is yanked to the lawyer as she gives him a look of surprise. Luckily, she remembers to stop writing before the pen goes off the edge of the paper she's on. "Ah... that would be my pleasure, I think, sir." She glances back down to finish off hte last few signatures, then sets to gathering the papers up, tapping them on end.
Clara tries not to grin too much, clicking off her datapad and tucking it back into her purse. "Smart answer, Tara. Is Greer all right for the evening? I'm afraid I'll be busy, but I can get a nurse to check in on her?" she offers, then reaches over to shake Traum's hand. "Merci, Monsieur. Your assistance is as timely as always."
Traum brightens amiably after shaking Clara's hand, then inclines his head at Tara and starts to put the contract away. "I'll get notarized copies of this made tonight and sent to your quarters, yes?"
Tara nods amiably. "Greer is, last I checked, nose-deep in her books again." She grins fondly at thought of the girl. "But if Giani or Kramer'd like to get cutified, they can feel free." The pilot gives the lawyer a nod. "Fast, that is. That works."
"I'll find out who's on duty and who has time to check on her," Clara promises, climbing to her feet and grinning at Tara. "I'll bid you both goodnight then. Traum, please, give my best to my family and your partners. Tara, a pleasure doing business with you," she offers, then turns to head out of the hotel.
Tara nods after the doctor, allowing herself a faint grin. "Ditto, Clara. You have a good night."
Clara walks towards the Aerie Hotel Verge.
Clara has left.
Traum watches the doctor leave with a fond expression, one that's far closer to an uncle rather anything else, then sighs and turns back with a pleased smile. "Thank you for agreeing to have dinner with me, Madame Valentine. So far from home, I did not want to impose on the Doctor. Would you care to join me for a drink before dinner? Or if you've matters to attend to, I can meet you?"
Tara inclines her head with a polite smile. "I think a drink would go down quite well right now, Monsieur. In a celebratory fashion for me, at any rate." She tilts her head curiously. "May I ask you something?"
Traum climbs to his feet to offer you his arm, his briefcase in the other, brows lifting. "Celebration is certainly a reason to...well, celebrate," he comments with a chuckle. "And you may ask, of course. I cannot promise to answer, but you may ask whatever you like."
Tara rises gracefully, chuckling as well as she takes the proffered arm. "I'm merely curious... you addressed me as 'Madame'. Now, granted, I'm not familiar with French, but I recognize that as the title for a married woman. How'd you know I'd been married?"
Traum tilts his head down at you, brows lifted slightly. "Your daughter, actually. If I am mistaken, please accept my apology. I did not intend insult, I assure you. You would prefer Madamoiselle?" he offers, leading the way to the hotel's lounge and picking out a table with a few of the windows and the cliffs beyond.
Tara chuckles, shaking her head. "Madame works just fine. I'm widowed, actually, but the marriage was quite a happy one." She gestures toward the bar as she slides into a chair. "I don't know about you, but I'd say wine's in order, at the very least."
Traum waves a hand to get a waiter's attention, and gives the order first in French. The waiter obviously doesn't understand though, so the lawyer switches to Edrilac, and this seems to work. "Wine is indeed," he agrees with a warm smile. "My condolences on your husband, and my sincere congratulations that the marriage was a good one."
Tara smiles, inclining her head. "Thank you," she responds smoothly, leaning forward slightly to rest folded arms on the table, then adds, "Clara seems to have a lot of faith in you."
Traum starts to answer, then pauses as the waiter returns with a bottle of champagne and two flutes. The lawyer regards the bottle for a moment, then nods and the waiter fills both glasses before leaving the bottle in a chilled bucket and heading off. "To a successful day," he offers, lifting his glass to you in toast.
Tara's eyebrows rise in surprise, and she reaches for the other glass with a smile. "When you said wine, I wasn't expecting this." She too raises her glass to clink. "And many more successful days."
"To many successful days," Traum agrees pleasantly, grinning and taking a small sip from his glass. "And champagne is traditional in celebrations, no? Besides," he adds with a wry grin. "I like the stuff," he admits. "Now, you mentioned that Madamoiselle Aleron trusts me. She should, actually. I have been in practice working for her family for twenty years now."
Tara chuckles, taking a small drink. "And your taste in champagne is wonderful, sir," she smiles. "Twenty years? That would, yes, seem to engender trust."
"Thank you, Madame," Traum replies with a nod of his head as he swirls the liquid under his glass. "I do hope so, at least. The O'Neill's have been a very pleasant family to render my services to. What of yourself, though. The doctor said you are a pilot?"
Tara chuckles softly, swirling her glass just a little. "That I am. Ex-AF, as a matter of fact. And you already know how I utilized that occupation up until recently."
Traum takes a slow sip of his wine, then nods once. "I do, to be honest. When Mademoiselle Aleron sent us the contract to peruse, we considered it wise to research the prospective businessperson. There was much to have us suggest against the investment, however Mademoiselle has impecable judgement in character. We respected her wishes."
Tara's eyebrows rise slowly. "You must have very good resources, to have been able to research -that- little fact out of my past." If anything, she's amused by this.
Traum shrugs lightly, offering an almost apologetic smile. "Resources are very, very good to have," he agrees mildly, then gestures at you with the glass. "Please, be at ease, Madame. I am well pleased at this business venture, and wish you be best of luck. Besides, it's not daily that a beautiful woman agrees to have dinner with me," he adds wryly.
Tara chuckles softly. "I very much doubt that, sir. You've more than one factor in your favor as a dinner partner. And I'm not uneasy. I'm simply a bit surprised. I'd attempt reassuring words, but as an attorney... well, I'm sure you know that words can be weapons as well."
"You'd be surprised, Madame. One mention of the occupation, and many women automatically wonder if I...ah, how you say it, chase ambulances." Traum shakes his head in quiet amusement. "Words -can- be weapons, oui, but I will not use them as such tonight. A celebration is a time of pleasantries and a time to be comfortable."
Tara snorts softly. "No worries about that from me. I'm the last person to judge anybody by their occupation." Except, off Linnae, SecOffs, of course. "Oh, I agree with you there." And indeed, she seems to relax. "Besides, Clara likes you. I trust her judgement when it comes to people."
Traum lifts his glass again with a grin, then takes a sip. "My gratitude, cher Madame," he offers, then pauses as a waiter appears and murmurs something indiscreet before picking up the bucket with champagne in it, and hurrying off. Traum climbs to his feet, glass in one hand, and offers his other arm. "Our table for dinner is ready, if you like?"
Tara blinks after the waiter, but nods with a smile for the lawyer as she rises, once again utterly charmed by his manners. "I like, I like." He gets a curious look. "Why do I have the odd feeling that if I offer to pay for dinner, you'll blanche?"
Traum peers down with a grin, shaking his head. "I must insist that you allow me, Madame. I shan't take no for an answer either," he explains, following after to the restaurant of the hotel, then letting the maitre'd lead on to another window table overlooking the cliffs. He moves around to hold out your chair for you, then. "Your company is payment enough."
Tara chuckles. "I suspected as much," she admits, then hastily amends as she slips into the chair, "That you wouldn't take no for an answer, I mean. And this is a very good table."
"Thank you. I actually made the reservation this morning, but it's eminently more enjoyable to share said reservation," Traum explains, moving around to settle into his own chair and set the champagne flute on the table, then open the parchment menu. "I've not eaten here before, but I hear everything is simply splendid, and the gryphons have impeccible taste."
Tara chuckles, reaching for her own menu. Only a second's pause meets the prices. "Well, then, it's good I came along when I did, neh?" She chuckles softly. "I've never eaten here either, I'm afraid, but I wouldn't be surprised if your information is correct, sir. This place is quite successful- if they're not good at what they do, they're bribing somebody."
Traum laughs at that in amusement, glancing over his own menu without any such pause. "They did not bribe me," he assures amiably. "They just happened to have a free room tonight, and were gracious enough to allow me a reservation for tonight. I'm afraid landing and taking off again in the same day just aren't the most fun."
Tara shakes her head a little. "No, it's not. At least, not unless you're used to it, and even then... Ooooh. Almond chicken. Do you know how long it's been since I've had a decent almond chicken?"
"Is that what you wish?" Traum wonders with interest, nodding approvingly. "It's a splendid dish. Perhaps an appetizer as well?" He pauses then offers a grin. "I won't suggest escargot, I promise. Perhaps shrimp cocktail? Cliche, but a lovely compliment to chicken.""
Tara blushes a little, nodding. "The chicken, yes. Hmmm. I've never had shrimp cocktail, but I'm always up to expanding my horizons," she smiles.
"You blush, Madame? I have said ought to offend you?" he wonders, almost worried, then pauses to murmur the order of the appetizer to the unobtrusive waiter. "The lady will have the almond chicken, and I shall have the poulet provencale," he explains pleasantly, then returns to watching you somewhat worriedly as the waiter leaves.
Tara shakes her head quickly, offering a broader smile. "You haven't, I assure you." She glances around, pauses, then inquires curiously, "What's poulet provencale?"
"I am relieved, then. I have no wish to cause you distress. This is a pleasant evening, and I hope you will enjoy it," Traum offers sincerely, then leans back in his seat to smile at you warmly. "Poulet is French for chicken, and poulet provencale is a recipe from the Provecale region of France. A sort of brown sauce over chicken and winter root vegetables."
Tara's eyebrows rise. "That certainly sounds like a lovely medley." She leans forward a little, reaching for her wine again. "I must say, I'm most appreciative of your presence."
Traum is rather obviously flattered, despite the manners, a rather open individual. "It's really quite nice. My mother would make it when I was a small boy. I would be pleased to share a bit of mine with you," he offers quietly. "And I, yours. Such lovely company is always a rare delight."
Tara smiles. "Ah, your mother taught you quite a bit about charm too, didn't she?" she chuckles. "If I'd known dinner with you would be the result of offering Clara a business deal, I'd've asked her much sooner."
Traum has to laugh at that, taking a careful sip of his water glass, and shaking his head. "My mother taught me to be a gentleman, certainly, but the sentiment is sincere and my own, Madame." He glances up as the waiter returns with a pair of shrimp cocktails, then whisks away again promptly after refilling the champagne glasses. "In truth, I have little reason to visit Mademoiselle Aleron. She is quite self-sufficient, given her family ties."
Tara peers at the cocktails curiously. "Different." Reaching out for one of the hanging shrimp, she bites into it cautiously. "Ah, so this is pleasure for you as much as it is business? I imagine it's been quite a while since you've seen her, and, begging your pardon, you seem quite fond of her."
"Most certainly. Mademoiselle was a delightful child, and has grown to a lovely woman. I cannot think of an employee of the family that isn't fond of her, especially now that she is...er...militarily inclined," Traum explains, starting into his own shrimp. "It has been a delight to see her again."
Tara grins understandingly. "Now that she's not a... how'd she put it? Spoiled rich ice princess, you mean?" She waves a shrimp tail a little, nodding. "Clara is an asset to the Complex, an excellent person, and a very good friend. She's also makes a good -enemy-, but that's in the past."
"Ice princess?" Traum seems to find this vastly amusing, having to take a quick sip of water to keep from spluttering. "Unfortunately, that would have described her, yes. She was still a dear child, though. It is good to hear of her status here at the Complex, though." The final comment gets an understanding smile. "Mademoiselle always has had a firm sense of justice and loyalty. Even as a child. It is what makes her good in the military."
Tara grins apologetically. "Sorry about that. I didn't mean to... startle you?" She chuckles softly, making definite inroads on the shrimp despite most of her attention being on the conversation. "It's part of it, I'd have to agree there, and what makes her good as a department head, too. I know that if I ran afoul of trouble... through no fault of my own, mind you... I could count on her."
"And hence why I'm here," Traum explains with a warm smile, reaching over briefly to touch your forearm, then returning to working on his own food. "She felt that helping was good, but also knew that given the situation of her status, it must be perfectly legal. "How do you like the shrimp, Madame?"
Tara doesn't shy from the touch, to her own surprise. "Ah, I believe there might be a -slight- misunderstanding. I wasn't asking Clara for help, exactly. I was determined to start up Dabbler one way or another. I was simply trying to show my appreciation for what she's done for me in the past... her and Addison both... by offering them the chance to get in on it. And I'd never do her wrong by asking her to get mixed up in anything -illegal-. Besides," her mouth quirks in dry amusement, "I'm still on parole. What?" She blinks down at the cocktail, and the last piece of shrimp, which she's holding, and laughs. "I think I like it very much, apparently. It was an excellent recommendation."
Traum aaahs softly, settling aside his own empty cup of cocktail, and nodding slowly. "I had misunderstood. She never really explained why precisely she was doing this," he explains sheepishly. "It was kind of you to offer her this opportunity. It's seldom that Mademoiselle actually gets involved in business at all." He grins slightly at the finishing of the cocktails. "I'm glad you liked it. More champagne?" he offers, holding up the bottle.
Tara chuckles. "I suspect Clara did it more as a way to help me, in her eyes, than anything else. Ah, she's kinder than I. Oh, yes, please! One more glass will do no harm, I think. I don't want to get sloshed on you."
Traum lifts the bottle from the bucket and refills both glasses, chuckling. "If you do, madame, I shall be most chivalrous and take you to your home safely. Have no fear." The waiter chooses this time to deliver the meals, along with salads and various side dishes, and a loaf of fresh baked bread.
Tara laughs softly. "Ah, another knight in our midst. Good timing, as the last one declares he's stripped his armor." The food brings a smile of delight to her face, and she inhales deeply. "Oh my, I do thank you once again, sir. Just the aromas alone are almost enough to satisfy the appetite."
"Aaaah, food does satisfy the body, but the aromas satisfy the soul," Traum explains, inhaling a deep breath of the scent of his own. "A knight? Well, cheval, perhaps," he allows with a laugh, picking up his fork. "I have no armor, though. That I leave to Mademoiselle."
Tara grins, reaching for her utensils and, as an afterthought, the cloth napkin to drape across her lap. "Cheval?" she inquires, then laughs quietly in deference to the surroundings. "Clara's knightly? Well, she certainly does seem to follow the ancient codes that knights lived by."
"Er...cheval. The ancient French term meaning 'horse'. A chevalier is a horseman, hence the word chivalrous," Traum explains, working out the translations himself at the same time, then laughs. "Madamoiselle? Knightly? Oh, I suppose she might be. What I meant is her armor, though. The Infantry armor. She sent a picture of herself in it to Niles, who showed it to the rest of us. She is...much different looking in it."
Tara blinks. It takes a few seconds for her brain to comprehend. "Oh! Yeah," she grins, "She's enough of a friend that I keep forgetting she's a groundpounder. Never seen her in it myself, though I can probably picture it. Hmmm. Yes, definitely different. Niles?"
"She is...intimdating. Surprising, as delicate as she seems normallly. We were all very surprised," Traum admits with a quiet laugh, working his way through his dinner slowly. "Niles is the butler for the O'Neill family."
Tara chuckles, neatly slicing her chicken up. "Ah! The one who makes fudge, no? And Clara can be quite intimidating even without armor, believe me."
Traum says, "Mademoiselle? Really?" Traum shakes his head in between bites musingly. "I shall always see her as an adorable ten year old, as she was when I first started working for the family. How did you come to meet her, though?""
Tara smiles, the expression fond as she thinks back, though there's just a touch of grimness. "We were... adversaries? Perhaps that's not quite the right word. First time I can actually remember seeing her was the night of the pudding explosion. Addison, Niko... Niko Casymed, that is... and I dragged ourselves into Clara's medbay to get patched up. She did a fine job of doing that, of course, but she was more than a little incensed when she realized I'd inadvertantly caused the explosion, hurting Niko and Addison."
Traum listens carefully, expression complacent as you explain. "Addison...her intended? And Niko...this would be Casymed?" He nods slowly. "I can see this, I believe. She has mentioned her fondness of both men, indeed. But I assume this is all in the past, oui?"
Tara nods a confirmation, remember to use her -fork- on the chicken. Where she grew up, chicken is finger food. "Oh, indeed," she assures hastily. "I've... learned a lot of lessons in the past few years here."
"Excellent, excellent. You seem far too sweet of a lady to be at odds with anyone." Traum gestures lightly at your plate, smiling warmly. "Is it acceptable, then?"
Tara chuckles, inclining her head. "Thank you for the compliment, sir, though some may debate you on declaring me a lady." She winks, then nods. "Absolutely! They must have truly excellent cooks... chefs... here. And the champagne sets it off perfectly."
Traum says, "Those that would debate know not of what they speak," Traum declares firmly, then grins. "I will pass on the compliments when I check out in the morning. The food truly is exquisite, complimented most nicely by your beauty.""
Tara blushes, looking mighty pleased and, perhaps, just slightly flustered. "Tis a pity you have to leave so soon. I take it you're based mostly on Terra?"
Traum inclines his head with an almost apologetic smile. "Entirely on Terra, indeed. I rarely leave unless in working with dealings for the family. You are enjoying he evening then?"
Tara mhmmms. "Oh, never doubt it, sir," she smiles. "I rarely have the opportunity to relax like this, much less to do so in charming company." The pilot raises her glass to you before taking a sip.
Traum can't suppress a delighted smile and lifts his glass to you as well. "Then I am well pleased, certainly. Would you perhaps do me the honor of joining me in the lounge and do me the honor of a dance after dinner?"
Tara's eyes widen, but she manages not to show -too- much surprise. "You dance?"
Traum grins slightly, reaching for his glass to take a slow sip and leans back in his seat, amused. "This is surprising to you? I can pretend to not know how, if you prefer, though?"
Tara chuckles, shaking her head, and gestures discreetly toward your clothes. "Those aren't exactly dancing togs, is all."
Traum glances down at himself almost in surprise, then aahs in understanding. "You mean...er, well, fast dancing? I was perhaps speaking of something slower, a bit more intimate?" Given the tone of the word, he obviously isn't trying to hit on you, just be descriptive.
Tara's eyebrows climb, and she toys with her chicken as she considers that. "Ah, in that case, yes, a suit'd do fine," she smiles. "I think that would be... most pleasant. I must beg one favor, however?"
Traum takes a bite of salad, then nods easily. "But of course, Madame. You have but to only name the favor, and I will attempt to grant it. What may I do for you?"
Tara grins. "Considering the lovely dinner we're sharing, and the promise of a pleasant dance, would you call me Tara?"
"Tara...it is a lovely name," Traum replies thoughtfully, then reaches over again to brush fingertips on your arm again. "Then you must call me Gerard, if you please? I would be most honored."
Tara nods, beaming almost as well as Greer does, and spins her arm slowly so that her fingers can brush yours as they're withdrawn. "Gerard... That's so very fitting for you, I think."
Brows lifting slightly at the returned touch, Gerard lifts his eyes to yours for a moment in pleased surprise. "Thank you? I think, at least. My mother, she will always call me Gerry, although she knows it drives me mad."
Tara chuckles softly, returning to eating her chicken. "Gerard is... aristocratic. Intelligence. Medievally gallant, in a good way, mind you. Ah, then I shall not call you Gerry."
Traum is nearly finished with his dinner, and leans back in his seat to sip at this champagne and watch you with a small, warm smlie. "I think, oddly enough, that from you it is...alluring, rather than annoying. I shall try to be gallant without being medieval, though."
"Alluring?" Tara's definitely in a good mood, and it's not from the effects of champagne. "Perhaps I need to wear suits more often." She gestures toward your plate with her knife. "Did you want some dessert?"
Traum is quiet for a moment at the question, merely smiling slightly. "I believe the privilege of gazing upon you may be dessert enough," he murmurs. "I am amenable to dessert should you with tough, of course. I hear the tiramisu is splendid."
Tara ducks her head quickly, finally unable to repress a blush. "Tiramisu... That sounds familiar. If you'd like some, of course, I'd take your recommendation." She does eat a bit quicker, on the last bit of almonds and chicken.
Traum beckons for the waiter and murmurs the order, then offers to you, "It's one of the few desserts I know that goes so well with wine. Ladyfingers soaked in liqueur, creme custard, and cinnamon."
Tara glances up with an unabashed grin. "My culinary knowledge is increasing by leaps and bounds around you. That sounds downright delicious, even with the cinnamon." She sighs contentedly, pushing her empty plate a few inches away.
Traum laughs quietly, shaking his head. "I am honored to be able to assist," he promises before the waiter returns with the desserts, then takes away the used dishes. "Bon appetit," he offers with a smile, gesturing with his dessert fork. "I hope you will like it," he adds.
Tara sniffs lightly at the first forkful she takes, eyebrows rising, and that first bite is cautious. Pleased surprise shows in her eyes, and she digs in. "Not bad, not bad at all. I may have to come up with lots of business for Clara just to have an excuse to eat dinner with you more often."
Traum laughs lightly, working through his own dessert, interspersing it with sips of wine. "I am glad you like it, then. And you are a pilot, no? Should you come to Terra, I would be pleased to show you some of the restaurants there. I am slightly more familiar with them," he adds with a grin.
Tara mhmmms, truly enjoying the dessert. "I will be visiting Terra now and then on Dabbler's behalf," she admits, then smiles. "Normally, I'd hop right back here, but I may actually have to take the time to relax on those trips. If you don't mind my asking, Gerard, are you from France itself?"
Traum nods amiably, obviously pleased at the prospect of seeing you again. "Oui," he agrees pleasantly. "From the Provencale region, a smaller town. My family are primarily vintners."
Tara starts to open her mouth to speak, then grins. "Ah, I was going to ask you to confirm my vague memory that Provencale is a region known for its wines. That certainly explains your expertise though."
"Mine? Oh, non, Tara. I know I like the stuff, perhaps. I know that white wine is good with chicken, red wine is good with beef." Gerard smiles faintly. "My brother is the one who runs the vinyards now. I merley visit now and again."
Tara ahhhs softly, savoring her last bite of tiramisu. "I just revealed my total lack of knowledge in that department, didn't I," she notes with a rueful grin. "But I'd say this has definitely been a day for learning new things."
"Now, now, there are more things in this universe than anyone could possibly know," Gerard suggests gently, finishing his champagne. "I promise, I wouldn't know the first iota of piloting. Is there anything else you would like?"
Tara smiles appreciatively for the naysay, and shakes her head. "I honestly don't think I could eat another bite if I tried. This has been the best meal I've had in a long time, I admit, made all the more so by your company."
Traum inclines his head with a vastly pleased smile, then pauses to put his signature in a small leather folder provided by the water, then climbs to his feet slowly and offers you his arm again after handing the waiter his briefcase with a tip and another murmur. "Shall we then, beauteous one?"
Tara chuckles softly, rising gracefully to take said arm. "You keep up those kind of compliments, you can lead me anywhere, Gerard," she laughs. "Did you need to drop off your case before we hit the dance floor?"
Traum pauses at the offer, looking rather relieved, then murmurs to the waiter to retrieve the briefcase but not the tip, and starts to lead towards the stairs. "I'd be truly grateful if I could, yes. I'm afraid my briefcase is much a security blanket for me. Will you accompany me? Or would you be more comfortable waiting in the lounge?"
Tara nods agreeably as she strides along. "If you wish me to accompany you, of course I shall. Whatever's more comfortable for you, Gerard."
Traum continues on smoothly to the staircase then without releasing your arm, although by no means is it trapped. "I am loathe to relinquish such fair company," he admits, climbing the stairs slowly. "I do not wish to cause you discomfort, however, nor compromise your values."
Tara's mouth quirks in amusement, though she squashes the expression. "I doubt a man of you demeanor could cause me discomfort, and by no means is there any, er, compromise of values. If it's the matter of accompanying a man to his rooms, I was raised to believe that it's the people, not the surroundings, that count."
Traum heads up the wide stairs.
You head up the wide stairs.
Traum leads the way down the hall to one of the doors and tugs a card from his inside breast pocket to unlock it, then open it to let you precede him in. It's not a suite, but rather a single room, obviously tenanted by a man from the few masculine items about. The bed has already been turned down and a mint atop the pillow, and he shuts the door behind you before moving to stow his briefcase. "I thank you for your sentiment," he offers. "I simply did not wish to see...er, uncouth?"
Tara smiles, shaking her head. "Gerard, the day you seem uncouth is the same day you'll see a blizzard in Jamaica. No worries. Just... relax."
Traum pauses at the reassurance, actually looking somewhat sheepish, and crosses back to you to attempt to take your hand. "Thank you," he responds quietly. "I fear there are seldom opportunities I have to remember precisely what is appropriate."
Tara willingly gives her hand, her smile taking on a reassuring note. "No worries," she repeats. "I've seen the depths of Hell, and the heights of Paradise. There's nothing you can do to shock me, scare me, or put me off."
Traum lifts the hand to his lips to kiss it lightly, eyes still on yours with hopeful trepidation. "You are a would-wise woman, then. Perhaps I should worry about if you will shock me?" he wonders, obviously teasing quietly.
Tara laughs quietly, not at all displeased. "I will only if you wish me to do so."
Traum chuckles in response, still searching your face. "The prospect holds a certain fascination, I will admit," he, well, admits. He pauses then, looking somewhat sheepish. "Here I find myself with the urge to kiss you, and I promised you would be safe here. Perhaps we should return to the lounge for that dance?"
Tara's eyebrows rise. "I wouldn't consider a kiss a threat, Gerard." She inclines her head slightly, obviously intrigued, but agreeable to letting things take a slow course. "I've no objections."
Traum continues to regard you for a long moment, then leans in for a slow, sweet kiss. "This truly is dessert then, to sample the sweetness of your lips," he murmurs without pulling more than a fingerbreadth away. "I have tasted heaven, and am doubly blessed."
Tara shivers breathlessly, her smile widening. "A very melted dessert, I'm afraid," she notes, looking up into your eyes. "I think the blessing is quite well shared."
"Then you would not be adverse to another kiss?' Gerard murmurs quietly, a hand lifting to your face gently to dust the backs of his fingers along your jaw. "I do not wish to compromise your situation, but I find your company most...exciting."
Tara shakes her head very slightly indeed. "Adverse? Hardly." She doesn't quite beam, but she's definitely pleased, and it shows. "Exciting? That particular concept, you can explain later." Another slight shake of her head. "There is no compromise to fear, Gerard. Don't hesitate on that account."
Traum leans in for another slow, lingering kiss, this one a little more intense than the first but still slightly hesitant. "I do not know that I could explain it in Standard very well," he admits in a somewhat sheepish murmur. "I merely know you are so very beautiful. I do not wish to offend."
Tara ahhhs softly. "How could I be offended by such a freely-offered, obviously sincere compliment?"
"It is most sincere, but it is not the compliment which may offend," Gerard admits quietly. "But that..." He pauses for a long moment, hand moving to stroke your hair lightly. "I am not wishing to see this night end, to see you leave without having you in my arms."
Those words send a shiver right through Tara, and a smile of delight curves her lips. "-That- is most certainly not offensive. I consider it quite a compliment as well. Would you find it... forward of me, were I to mention that I certainly wouldn't object?" She glances downward, suddenly turning hesitant, not wanting to offend, then looks back up. "-Must- we go downstairs to dance?"
Traum says, "You...would stay?" Gerard stares at you for a delighted moment, obviously stunned. "No, no we need not leave," he assures rapidly, moving in close to attempt to take you into his arms. "We need not leave at all," he murmurs, lowering his face for another kiss that precedes a very definite fade to black.
