Elementary Fic: Not Isabella's
Sep. 13th, 2015 01:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kitmerlot_1213This is a 255 word Elementary fic for the Weekend Challenge at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
1_million_words ENJOY!!
"So we're not going to eat at Isabella's. That's fine... Actually I hate the food at Isabella's so it's not such a big treat for me..."
Kitty tried to keep her pained expression from showing, but judging from the frown on Watson’s face, she knew she had been less then successful.
But how was she supposed to take this over-posh bastard seriously anyway? His name was Tate, he worked as a stock-broker and he held an extremely high opinion of himself.
And mind you, not one backed up by the facts.
Tate was also Andrew’s old college buddy—they had apparently both pledged Gamma Kappa Theta and Tate was more than happy to recount every disgusting prank he’d ever pulled—and Watson had asked if Kitty would be okay with being Tate’s date for the evening.
Kitty had reflexively started to say “No,” but she thought better of it. Her ongoing therapy was helping, but Kitty still had a difficult time being around men she didn’t know, so perhaps spending time with this Tate person, and knowing Watson and Andrew would be right there, might be the first steps in regaining a “normal” life.
So here she was in an expensive restaurant, “Not Isabella’s” as Tate kept reminding them, and Kitty found she was enjoying herself. Or rather, she was enjoying hanging out with Watson. They were quietly talking together and deducing their fellow patrons while Tate and Andrew, but really just Tate, laughed over their school days.
All in all, not a bad evening.
1_million_words ENJOY!!"So we're not going to eat at Isabella's. That's fine... Actually I hate the food at Isabella's so it's not such a big treat for me..."
Kitty tried to keep her pained expression from showing, but judging from the frown on Watson’s face, she knew she had been less then successful.
But how was she supposed to take this over-posh bastard seriously anyway? His name was Tate, he worked as a stock-broker and he held an extremely high opinion of himself.
And mind you, not one backed up by the facts.
Tate was also Andrew’s old college buddy—they had apparently both pledged Gamma Kappa Theta and Tate was more than happy to recount every disgusting prank he’d ever pulled—and Watson had asked if Kitty would be okay with being Tate’s date for the evening.
Kitty had reflexively started to say “No,” but she thought better of it. Her ongoing therapy was helping, but Kitty still had a difficult time being around men she didn’t know, so perhaps spending time with this Tate person, and knowing Watson and Andrew would be right there, might be the first steps in regaining a “normal” life.
So here she was in an expensive restaurant, “Not Isabella’s” as Tate kept reminding them, and Kitty found she was enjoying herself. Or rather, she was enjoying hanging out with Watson. They were quietly talking together and deducing their fellow patrons while Tate and Andrew, but really just Tate, laughed over their school days.
All in all, not a bad evening.
