on the twenty-fourth of february, hector meets @aliciarowes for a casual date.
Hector’s late.
He’s a lucky man, and he’s lived a lucky life. That’s not something he’s unaware of. In fact, it’s something that’s haunted him for a long time, following in his footsteps, careful to always remind him that luck runs out. For every bullet he’s dodged, there’s always been someone with a knife, ready to go. The clock is always ticking. Not tonight, though. Hector’s determined: he’s will not be fucking this up any more than he has, and if he does, God help him.
Late by five minutes, you idiot. Poach her on a date and don’t even show up on time.
He’s still a little shocked, frankly, that she even gave him her number, because his approach had been less than tactful. But the date she’d been on looked like actual torture (and he should know, because he’s tortured people before, and the look on her face when her date had disappeared to go get them drinks had reminded him of something), and it’s been miracle enough he’d recognized her from all the way across the room. Stirring up the courage to approach her hadn’t been difficult. He’s always had confidence to the point of excess, easy to draw on when he needs it. He’s lived his life with that same proud gait, obvious with every move he’s ever made. No, the difficult part had been after, trying to remember how the fuck people just... went out. Did things. Had nice dinners.
Even with ulterior motives, with Death in the back of his mind, he’s still feeling a little like a fish out of water.
The place they’d chosen to meet isn’t a fancy affair, per se, but it’s the nicest spot he’s been to in a while, and he’s not sure he’s dressed properly for the affair. He’s still going over the script of what to say, what to do, how to hold himself when he meets Alicia inside, shown to the table. He’d had to call ahead to make a reservation. This whole thing is bizarre. He flashes an apologetic smile to her as he sits, trying to look at least a little bashful.
“—sorry I’m late. Traffic was bad, and usually I’d thread the needle, but the cops were right there, and I thought I’d at least try to make up instead of not show up at all.”