[log] pleased to meet you

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It isn't easy, planning around Argine's health. Now and then, after all, she simply can't keep an appointment, simply needs to stop and sit, simply stops being a Ten and a mother and becomes a woman struggling against her own mortality. There's a good deal of hoping when it comes to setting dinner dates. A good deal of hoping in general.

But tonight was going to go well. The date had been set a week in advance, and was going to stick. The former Queen has been resting all day, her former Ace hovering and attending with nervous energy. The kitchens had been more than happy to pull together an early meal for three, to drag a table up to Argine's quarters and find a comfortable chair for the woman to rest easy in during an extended conversation. Everything is falling into place. Eileen should be ecstatic.

Is, in some ways. And is also starting to get ridiculously nervous, the way a young person gets when introducing their significant other to their only living parent.

So as the hour draws near, Eileen worries. Frets. Helps her mother pull herself properly into the semblance of the regal woman she used to be and get her settled in at the table. Argine's tsk is soft as she smooths her daughter's cheek, tells her to run along and get ready, not worry so much about an old woman.

She barely sees herself in the mirror as she throws on a bit of makeup, runs her hands through her hair ineffectually and calculates that she doesn't actually have enough time to change out of her usual fare.

Goes to loiter nervously at the door and wait for CJ to arrive. Maybe stealing a kiss before bringing him in will soothe her jangling.

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He smiled, glad she thought so, even if she didn't accept them from him, even if she wanted him to give them to her mother, instead of her. But she'd get to see them, in a vase, either way. And that was fine by him. Whatever helped his chances. "Okay." Another breath "I'm ready." Now, or never.

He follows, led by the hand, something also familiar. But he's led her by the hand just as many times as the opposite. They've led each other by the hand so many times now, dragging each other into their present, into their future. This is them, helping each other through hard times, through good times, through a life now so blended together. A life of holding hands, kissing, snuggling, sleeping, eating, together as often as possible.

He looks around, taking in the richness. His own family has money, they've been around forever, but his dad isn't a Ramos and while their life is full of things it's not this lavish. They haven't had royal faces in a few generations. They Ramos tree is more about money than political power, more about faith and loyalty, leaning more towards being the strong backbone of the clubs than the powerful heads of it. They're Spaniards, working at the head is more stressful than simply being strong, dependable, good people. Too serene to step up into places that would merit this kind of lavishness and the work that went with it. It's a bit intimidating, and yet the Ramos estate in town is similar to this, with it's own crests of branches and towers which littered a lot of their older possessions. Strength and fertile wealth rather than the ferocity of lions.

He recognizes that expression and it makes him smile, genuinely, as he bends towards the seated mother of his girlfriend, murmuring that it's ok, he's a young man, he'll eat anything because his mother taught him well, and that, regardless, the food looks delicious. He offers her the flowers, murmuring hopes that she likes them and expressing a polite concern over her health.

"I'm Carlos Jose Ruiz Ramos, Señora, it's a pleasure to finally meet you." He says in his most polite voice.

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Letting go of his hand isn't an easy thing. Necessary, of course, so that he can speak with her mother and she can vanish briefly to fetch a vase full of water for the flowers. Eileen's fingers cling just a moment longer than they should before she lets go, moves momentarily to the other room.

For her own part, at least, Argine seems quite pleased with initial impressions. The flowers are accepted with a soft pleased click of her tongue--obviously picked with her daughter in mind, regardless of whom he was offering them to now. There's something reserved, of course, in her expression, never as open and excitable as Eileen often is, but an easily apparent smile on her lips as her fingers move carefully over the flowers.

"You as well. I've heard so much about you, mm?" Years of having served the Suit as Queen are still stuck in her motions, the slightly grand way she gestures to the chair on her left side. "Please sit. Thank you for agreeing to come this evening."

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He holds just as tightly before their hands separate, and his eyes dart to watch her leave the room before turning back to Argine's face, his smile not leaving his features. And the mother's smile is reassuring, even after that soft click of her tongue. He's done ok, which is as good as he can hope for, and better than he feared.

"All good things, I hope?" he murmurs back. He takes the chair he's offered and plays with his tie, settling it against his chest as he gets comfortable. He pulls at his pants the way his father does, showing off his dark gray socks, the fabric bunching up against his thighs. He's just as much a victim to parental mimicry, here, doing what he sees his parents do when they have company over, when it's a bit more dressy. But its all subconscious, he doesn't know he's doing it.

"Thank you for having me, I know it must be an imposition. Your home is very nice, it's a pleasure to finally visit it." Well, visit more than Eileen's bedroom, having snuck in through the window. Clandestine.

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Of course Argine notes the slightly nervous fidgeting, forces her smile to soften further in response. It's sweet, after all, the way both the young people are clearly fluttering inside with nerves. It had been that way, all those years ago, when Edgar had first come to her own father's home as the boyfriend--and he, at least, had had the advantage of having already come around as the dear friend.

"Only quite lovely things," she reassures, leaning carefully to lift the water pitcher and fill his glass. "Eileen's been quite preoccupied with you."

A good and bad thing all at once. A lovely thing to see her daughter smile so joyfully; a mildly concerning thing to think Eileen might be distracted from her path back up to being Ace properly.

"And I'm certain it's not an imposition, Carlos," she tsks softly as Eileen reappears with a vase, takes the flowers from her mother and moves to the sideboard to pull out a knife and clip quickly. "I'm only pleased my daughter's finally seen fit to bring you around."

"It would have been sooner." Eileen's own voice is just a little tight, spine held with the exacting sort of straightness that looks more in place on the training field than most people hold themselves with family. "But you've been pushing yourself, Mother."

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He can't help the instantaneous and almost irrationally happy question of "She has?" before he coughs and blushes, rubbing at the back of his neck "I mean... I'm sorry?" What do you say to something like that? He clears his throat "I know she has a lot of plans, Mrs. Eicheln." He stumbles a little on the name, it's not something that comes easy to him, so far from Spanish or English, he did try to practice it, but he still falters.

He raises an eyebrow and looks at her seriously "I don't have any intention of getting in the way of that. She should accomplish all her dreams." He means every word. He's very much infatuated with Eileen, but he wants her to be happy, to succeed at everything she wants, to become an ace. She's busy, and he doesn't pester her, knowing how much work she has to do to make everything she wants happen. He takes a sip of water, to be polite, and because his mouth is suddenly bone dry. It's a nervous gesture.

He blushes harder, grinning with a soft shrug. His eyes move to Eileen, watching her take the flowers, cut them, put them in the vase. He can't take his eyes off her usually, but he remembers her mother is looking and drops his eyes, embarrassed. He exhales, still a little nervous "She's a very serious girl, Mrs. Eicheln. She wanted to be sure, I think, that I wasn't just some guy... before she let us meet." He smiles, eyes still on the tablecloth, as he murmurs "I'm not, though. I care about her a lot." His words are soft, sentimental, before he looks at her for affirmation.

"I really want to try to make her happy... I know I'm very young... we're both very young, but I just want you to know I'm serious. About her... about us." the rosy hue to his cheeks, that goes up to his ears, doesn't go away. But he feels so strongly about this he just has to say it. He looks between them at the tension, and quiets down, unsure if he should interject. But he wants to, to defend Eileen, but he knows he probably shouldn't. So he just stays quiet.

Not sure I've ever mentioned, but Argine took her second husband's name, so she's Mrs Fioro.

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The faint smile doesn't leave Argine's lips as she listens. Quite a lot of parallels, really, to the man who had barely had a chance to raise his biological daughter. A devoted sort of young man, stalwartly Club-like in the best sort of way. Prone to rambling slightly when nervous. Quick to jump to the defense of the woman he clearly adored, no matter how he tried to keep his eyes off her.

Ambition could be encouraged. Comfort could be achieved. They were young--there was time.

Which she affirms, albeit in French, as she fills her daughter's glass with water as well as Eileen slides into her own seat across from CJ. "Un homme bien parlé jeunes, mon petit lionceau."

"Ne pas lui faire peur," comes the easy reply as Eileen lifts the bottle of wine from the end of the table to offer toward their guest. " S'il vous plaît, Mère." And, without missing a beat, continues, "¿Un vaso de vino ayuda con esta noche?"

It's going well, oddly enough. Likely not the sort of familial love he's used to; a more Germanic, standoffish affection between mother and child. But there's the faintest relaxation in Eileen's shoulders, a brighter sparkle of amusement as Argine reaches to begin ladling out soup.

"So," the mother resumes calmly, "tell me about yourself, young man."

nope, you hadn't! Should have had Eileen kick him under the table and mouth to him xD

[jovencitobaston.livejournal.com]

He looked between them. He didn't speak french. He understood maybe 3 words of that, due to the romantic similarities, but the meaning was lost to him in the translation. A good man... something something something? Eileen's response was similarly undecipherable.

He looked a little grateful, and nodded "Si, muchas gracias" as he reached "Do you want me to do it?" His father always opened the wine, so he figured... he should do it? They were clubs, but he felt they behaved almost like diamonds with one another. Almost... standoffish, cold. It was strange to see this kind of relationship, when his own family was entirely the opposite.

"Uh... yes Mrs. Fioro" He cleared his throat and groped at his thighs, trying to think of what to say. "I am a 3 of clubs, and uh... I am a musician. I enjoy reading, building models, cinema. My father is a stockbroker, and my grand father Señor Ramos is the CEO of the bank here. My Uncle is the vice president. Um..." He looked at Eileen, a bit lost in what to say "I'm a catholic. My whole family is catholic."

The image of Eileen with flashcards of her family, quizzing him before bringing him to dinner. xD

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On the bright side, the Spanish seems equally bemusing to Argine. Everyone will have their language to hide in when the tense sort of nerves in the air get to be too taut.

His offer, however, is waved off as Eileen shifts to her feet again to uncork the bottle. He's the man in the room, perhaps, but he's also the guest. He's meant to be served. Another touch of Diamond in them, perhaps. Forged from being one of those hyper-traditional old families, maybe, or simply from the fact that Eileen had always been her fathers' daughter. Had never quite been her mother's top priority, much though they'd tried once the illness began to put in question how much longer Argine could reasonably be expected to stay in this world.

That he's a Three isn't such a horrible thing. That he comes from a well-established family is clearly a positive. There's nevertheless a slight pursing of Argine's lips, fingers pausing on her spoon and head tilting rather deeply to the side. "...a musician."

"A talented artist," Eileen is quick to add, flashing the faintest apologetic smile at CJ as she pours out his glass--and a nice large one for herself.

"I'm certain." Not that Argine sounds it remotely. "And Catholic."

Which isn't a problem, clearly, except that her own daughter isn't remotely a religious human being.

oh brother xD

[jovencitobaston.livejournal.com]

Ok, he won't open the wine, he will just sit there as Argine looks at him and shoots down his 'profession'. He didn't introduce his family, his mother's last name was enough. Ramos. He reaches for his spoon to taste the soup, and sees his girlfriend defend him. He shrugs. It's not being an Ace, but he has to explain.

"My family allows us a certain amount of freedom until a certain age. If we can be successful at something of our own choosing before then, and can be fiscally independent, we are allowed to do it. If we are not, we are trained to join in the financial business that my family operates. My uncle is a dance instructor, and had two other professions prior to that where he was very successful. My other uncle is a priest, and the oldest works for my grandfather. I may not be a musician forever, Mrs. Fioro." If that's any consolation to her. if he'd become a toreador, like he dreamed of when he was a child, or a fireman. Would she also dislike it? More? Less? He can't know.

"Whatever happens, I do intend to be capable of taking care of her, Señora. No matter what I have to do to make it possible." He looks determined, serious. He knows that it's possible he will have to do a boring desk job, working with money. Probably a banker. But if that's what it took, he'd do it. Even if he overplayed his hand by admitting at a young age that he intended to be with her as an adult, married to her.

"Catholic." His religion wasn't an option. His faith in God part of who he was, part of his tradition. It was the root of his goodness, of his honesty, of his strength. But he would never force her to convert, even if his parents and grandparents might. He loved her how she was, no matter her (lack of) religion.

"Do you have anything you'd like to ask me?" he bent his head and placed the spoonful of soup into his mouth, eating quietly.

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It's working well, really, in Eileen's opinion. His explanation is tight, appropriate, exactly the sort of thing that gets her mother nodding along in complete understanding. Clearly going well.

At least until the quietly serious statement that he intended to be capable of taking care of her. Both women's spoons pause then, Argine's slightly lifted and Eileen's already in her mouth.

Of course Argine dips back into French as she murmurs, "Est-ce qu'il vous demande de l'épouser?" Hopefully far enough away from Spanish, although the content can't be overly difficult to guess. The shake of Eileen's head is instant. The press of both women's lips is nearly identical before Argine manages a calm, "I see."

A thoughtful moment of silence is required before she sets down her spoon and reaches for the water instead.

"And you're still in school, yes?"

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He doesn't know what he said, to make their faces both stop and their lips to turn into lines, identical lines. More French, and he raises an eyebrow, as he makes sense of it, before he frowns. "I haven't asked her to marry me." Not yet. He's 17, an adult by deck standards for 2 years now, but it wasn't time. Neither of them were ready. They both had so many things to do before that happened, including age a bit.

"We're dating, but I can still want to take care of her as my girlfriend..." you know? Buy her nice things, take her out to good restaurants, take her on trips to places she wants to see. It was still the same feeling, even if not the same delivery, the same effect.

He eats his soup, muttering to himself inside his mind, before he nods "Yes Señora, A student, in the advanced classes." Which was good for normal people, but nothing at all near the same level as Eileen.

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"And you do, CJ," comes the natural, quick response from Eileen, her lips lifting very faintly in a smile. He's a better boyfriend than any girl could possibly deserve--and still tended to insist he wasn't as good as she deserved. Her foot finds his under the table, nudges just slightly because she can't reach for his hand. "And would even making absolutely no money at all."

Which, really, is the sort of thing a mother has to admit is nice to hear. These two would clearly never be starving for love, but that didn't mean that the impulse, the depth of affection, wasn't important.

Argine hums faintly as she takes another sip of soup, more approving than anything else, particularly as he continues. Most young people didn't quite reach Eileen in academic matters--but then, she was a fairly exceptional polymath with the benefit of having had excellent private tutors. "And you'll be going to university, I expect, in not too long?"

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He did it now, murmuring "I try, I will do better." as he returned the smile. He rubbed his foot to hers but didn't defend he couldn't get her all the nice things she deserved if he didn't make money. Not that he was making much money now. It was also too embarrassing to say where someone other than Eileen could hear.

He ate his soup, blushing faintly. He wished she was beside him, not across. But maybe it's better she's across. Though he wants so badly to hold her hand.

"Yes, in Spain. In a year, after I graduate. Universidad de Sevilla" It was the third highest ranked school in all of Spain. It offered bachelors, masters and PhD programs in a whole assortment of things, including finance. Sure it was 50th in European ranks but it was the school most of his relatives went to. "I will double major in finance and a humanities curriculum. And will remain there for the duration, except during holidays." He sipped water.

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Its rank is unknown to Argine, of course, but there's nevertheless a pleased sort of smile as she nods, carefully sets her spoon aside--of course, only prompting Eileen to refill her mother's bowl. A hopefully more visible display of concern, affection.

"Finance and humanities." Obviously approved of, if the former Queen's tone is to be trusted. "You'll be taking courses in Spanish, then? Are you entirely certain you'll be returning to us once you've completely your degree?"

It's not a particularly intriguing question, but something hearing her mother ask it makes Eileen smile. More than likely it's because she knows exactly what the answer is.

Of course he'll come back to them. To her.

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Finance was mandatory if he was ever going to do anything at the bank or with his father. Humanities for himself. Music, language (so he could speak with Eileen in more than English and Spanish), and literature so he could talk to her about some of the books she'd already read. "For the most part" he agreed, and the next question had him looking at Eileen as he said rather meaningfully "Yes, definitely."

He wouldn't even consider any other choice. He had to come back, because he had to be with Eileen. And if she was going to be Ace, they wouldn't be going anywhere else.

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It's a nice balance, really, to do half for one's family, for formal expectations, and half for one's genuine self. Something surely both women present could approve of--did approve of, from the bright flicker of Eileen's grin and the more subdued smile on Argine's lips.

And Eileen's face, at least, lights up just a little brighter at the affirmation. Of course she won't lose CJ. Whether this managed to stick as long as they both thought it would or not, one of her oldest friends would be coming back. They'd keep holding hands for the rest of their lives.

Just not right now with her mother watching.

"Isn't that lovely," Argine hums softly, lifting her spoon but not quite taking another bite. "Your parents must be quite pleased. You have brothers and sisters?"

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His lips twitch into a smile, the radiance of Eileen's face too much for him to handle without smiling. She's so beautiful, happy, sitting there across the table from him. It takes a moment for him to snap out of it and answer her mother.

"I think they are pleased." He chuckled softly, "They haven't told me otherwise" at least not about school. About Eileen? They had a few reservations. "I do, a little sister. She is almost 6." She was born the year he'd met Eileen, actually. Just a few short months later.

He finished his soup, wiping his mouth with his napkin. "But I have a lot of cousins."

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And that, really, the two of them grinning at each other for a moment like there's nothing else in the world, isn't something a mother can argue with. Little things can be worked out later. First love is first love.

They'd work on his parents' reservations next. For now? They were doing quite well chipping away at Argine's. The knowledge keeps Eileen's lips curved up happily as she nudges the salad bowl toward him, nods at the shepherd's pie. Bland and not horrible varied, largely starchy, but filling. The sort of thing that would stick well to a person's bones in the more Nordic tradition.

"I'm certainly they'll miss you terribly while you're at school." Argine's eyes flit briefly to her daughter before settling on their guest again. "Have you spent much time in Spain?"

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He takes the salad bowl first, smiling at her as he serves himself a portion, and then a portion of the pie. He doesn't have food phobias, like mixing things on his place. Or any sort of pickiness. He'd eat anything, as long as it was served to him. Even if he did have favorites when he went out to eat and ordered for himself.

He didn't take much of either, his stomach in butterflies, a little too nervous to eat much.

"I will miss them, too." And Eileen, his eyes said. Eileen more than anyone. "I have visited with my family a few times, and the trip we took together." He picks up his fork and spears some greens with the tines. "But not much, overall."

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The trip they took together. Eileen can't help herself; coughs very slightly around a mouthful of soup. It was, generally speaking, a point in his favour--that he'd arranged such a beautiful trip for her, spared no expense, brought her home so clearly blissfully happy.

But it's not a trip Eileen can think about without also thinking about sex. And this is a moderately difficult time to have to be shoving sex out of the brain.

Argine, however, is blissfully unaware of this, and will hopefully remain so. Her hands press together lightly, clearly pleased. "Have you got an awful lot of family off-Deck, then?"

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He blushed and smiled as he stuffed salad in his mouth, a little knowing smirk at her reaction. Maybe it was a good thing they were not seated together, just now. Beeeecause, her being nearby, and them possibly touching could end up in horrible embarrassment in front of her mother.

"Yes, maybe more than we know of. But I have an awful lot of family On Deck." He looks between them again. Eileen didn't. That's something else he wanted to give her. A big family. Not just an ailing mother, but a big, warm, affectionate family. To give her all the love she'd ever missed out on when she lost not one but both of her fathers.

"I have an aunt in Spain, with her husband. They have 4 or 5 kids now, I think."

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"Isn't that wonderful." For a moment, Argine's attention flits to Eileen as well. She had been able to give her daughter quite a lot in her young life in many ways, but a large, solid family base had eluded them. The Rainmayr and Martens were largely off-Deck in recent generations and rarely heard from, and the Eichelns and Fioros had been more than a bit standoffish since her second marriage to her first husband's best friend. Her fingers reach quietly for Eileen's, and the younger woman instantly reaches back to squeeze them.

"You're not sure how many cousins you have?" Eileen tsks, voice light and a little forcefully cheerful. No need to linger on the fact her only real remaining family was the frail woman at the head of the table and a collection of men and women whom she affectionately called 'aunt' or 'uncle' in childhood. "We'll have to go visit them. I'll help you count."

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"It is" he said simply, smiling. "I know Eileen isn't religious, but my family is. And we have a big family get together every Sunday. We attend mass, and we spend all day together, in one house. People of all ages, eating, laughing, dancing. It is wonderful."

He sees their exchange, sees that they agree, this would be good for Eileen, and he chuckles. "On the Deck? Something like 20, maybe more. There are so many Ramos something, something Ramos, or maybe Ramos 2 generations or 3 back. It is very hard to keep track. Catholics are good for one thing at least. Having a lot of children. I could use the help, you know. I only have 2 hands and 2 feet. After 20, it's hard to keep count."

He winks, he's kidding. But she's a whiz, and introducing her to every single member of his family would be the most amazing thing.

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"I promise to help you get to forty, then." Or, you know. Just someday attempt to meet as much of his family as she could. The important ones, surely, would be easy enough to accomplish--and then there was the rest of their lives to meet everyone else.

He, after all, had now met her entire biological family. Would only have to be introduced at some point properly to Elisha and David as 'the young man Argine already approves of whom you are absolutely not allowed to scare off from dating your not-daughter.'

Argine's fingers squeeze her daughter's lightly before shifting back to her spoon, going back to sipping carefully at her soup. "Plenty of time for all the. Tell me about your music, mm?"

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He leaned over the table, gasping "Eileen, you can count to 40? You never said..." laughing softly as he shoved salad into his mouth and grinned. So smart, and he loved every inch of her. He coughed, when he remembered that her mother was there too, and tried to go back to looking mature and respectable.

"Sorry, Mrs Fioro..." and then looked down at his plate "The food is very good."

He set down his utensils and tried to think how best to explain it. "It's a... rock group? We perform cover songs of popular Outsider music, so that the people here can see it performed Live. We have a few original songs but they aren't that great yet. We're working on it. It's a few friends from High School who can sing and play instruments. It helps develop musical ability, and is a clean way of keeping us off the streets." He laughed, because he kept off the streets anyway. With Eileen and reading, or building models. So that was a bit of a joke amongst them. That it kept them off the street.