Book 5, Chapter 14: One Eye on What You Knew, One Eye on What You Do (2/3)
Title: One Eye on What You Knew, One Eye on What You Do (2/3)
Authors: kiltsandlollies and escribo
Characters: Billy, Cate
Word Count: 3000
Summary: Continues from here.
Index
Note: Note: Original text and characterization of Cate created by magickalmolly; in some chapters through this story, we’ve adapted both text and characterization, but Molly’s work happily remains the foundation for Professor Blanchett.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction; the recognizable people in the story belong to themselves and have never performed the actions portrayed here. I do not know the actors nor am I associated with them in any way. If you are underage, please do not read this story. I am not making any profit from these stories, nor do I mean any harm.
Cate can venture a guess at both Billy’s local and the things he may have been up to inside it, and her smile widens in memory of her own haunts back in St. Andrews. Resting her chin on her hands, Cate watches Billy watching everyone else, and only shakes her head in reply when he asks about darts. Her gaze flicks momentarily to the small swarm of young, over-enthusiastic men crowded around the board, ties hanging loose and shirt sleeves rolled up as they try to distract one another with loud jibes and teasing touches. Cate's eyes darken momentarily at the sight, and she wonders to herself how many of them tonight will drunkenly stumble home together-home and perhaps into bed. Just mates helping one another release a little tension, of course, but Cate recognizes the type, and smirks to herself. There was always a crowd of them in St. Andrews, too, and a few she’d found worth the risk of taking home herself; and among them a percentage who'd been good for far more than one turn in her bed.
Looking to Billy again, Cate tries to imagine Billy back there, and wonders if he was ever part of that half-shambling, half-select club of professors moving in and out each other's reach. Memories from the last few weeks play through her mind: Billy in his car, racing through traffic and singing along with the radio, his smile wicked and hair thrown about by the wind; both of them hungry for something more across the table in that restaurant, and the sweetness of sitting underneath that tree. Through it all Billy's had the air of someone with a great deal more depth than what he'd wanted to let her see, and physically there's enough going for him that he would have fit in nicely among that lot in St. Andrews, the types who still met each other years later with the metaphorical secret handshake of knowing exactly how the other looks, sounds, tastes, and feels at-indeed-their best and worst. Yes, Cate thinks to herself; he could have been one of them. Old habits die hard, as they say, and she’s counting on that.
Cate's smile turns wicked when Billy jokes about the drunken performances they will most likely see this night, and her laughter is light and amused. She sips at her pint, and then idly runs her fingers up and down against the sides of the damp glass when the waitress returns, choosing to hold her comments until after their order has been taken. Cate orders for them both, a huge plate of fish and chips to share, and another round of pints of course, and she is pleased both by Billy's smile of approval and the affectionate touch of his hand across her back. When he looks around the room again a bit distractedly, his eyes settling again in the direction of the little stage, Cate makes her move.
"I want to hear you play tonight." Still resting on her elbows, Cate leans in very close to Billy, looking right into his clear green eyes. Her voice is soft when she speaks, as soft as Billy's had been when he'd spoken in her ear, but she knows Billy can hear her. And she can see instantly his refusal in the way Billy sits back a bit, preparing to shake his head. But Cate is quicker, shaking her own head and grasping lightly at one of his wrists, her wet thumb sliding instinctively against the underside. Billy’s eyes dart immediately to her hand, their focus narrowed and on point, but Cate doesn’t flinch from his reaction; she’s seen better and worse, and just from that small touch she can read worlds of confirmation to several of her own theories about the lovely shambling wreck of a professor Billy pretends to be. It’s tempting to let her thoughts wander off in that direction, but she has more important goals for right now, and she presses ahead with what she’d meant to say.
"Neither of us is a John Lennon, but you've got something in you, I know it. It would be a shame for you not to share it." Cate gives Billy's wrist a gentle squeeze, thrilling to Billy’s flushed-throated reaction to that as well and letting her smile go warm, just for him. "You don’t need to be drunk to do it, either. You’re better than that, are you not?"
"Don’t be too sure.” It comes out quickly, sharply, but Billy’s smile is more kind than firm, and he places one hand over Cate's around his wrist. “I don't think this is the right kind of room for me or what I know how to play, and by the look of those three up there, I doubt they're in the mood to share that stage with someone not playing half as fast as they will be.” He pauses, and Cate almost holds her breath, watching him argue with himself, but then Billy shrugs, his smile a little tighter. “If you’re wanting to have a go, though, Cate, don’t let me stop you. A pretty girl’s going to get a little more attention up there."
Cate can feel her skin flaring up, irritation darkening her cheeks, but she smiles back at Billy far more winningly, lacing her fingers through his for a moment. “I hardly need more than I’m getting, do I? Think it over, Bill; think it through.”
“Don’t think I haven’t,” Billy says lightly, but Cate shakes her head.
“Then don’t overthink it. That’s your specialty, you philosophers,” she murmurs. “You could learn a bit from science, couldn’t you. Let things take their natural course, and interfere only when absolutely necessary. What’s the worst that could happen, hmm? It’s not as if I’m asking you to sing, too.” Billy shifts in his chair, eyes even more narrowed, and Cate lowers her voice to its softest as she leans in closer, holding Billy’s gaze. This is dangerous ground, she can feel it, but Billy’s too much a gentleman to shut her down, and they both know it, and besides, she can see that flicker of interest burning under whatever guard Billy’s working vainly to keep up in his eyes. “Whatever the worst might be, isn’t it worth the risk? Think about how long it’s been since you’ve done something a bit different, hmm?”
“Not--” Billy stops the heated response that nearly flies from my lips and then leans in, too, teeth bared a little; Cate forces herself not to blink, not to move, not to react even as he finally speaks again. “Not as long as you think.”
The waitress arrives, her voice loud above the chatter, and Billy takes a deep breath before he breaks their stare, smiling up at the waitress and blinking in surprise at the enormous amount of food he and Cate will share. His smile broadens, and he rubs his hands together before first looking back to Cate with an expression as placid as if the conversation had never happened, then making an immediate and good start on his second pint and the chips. Cate’s disappointed in Billy's refusal to sing for her, and she has to fight back the frown that threatens to crease her brow. And although his smile had been soft, his voice even more so, Cate had caught something in Billy's gaze, dark like the flicker of a memory, one perhaps Billy wishes not to remember. His excuses are weak at best, but Cate decides that now isn't the time to push. Let him think the topic is closed, and she might bring it up again later, when they are both full of good food and a few shots of something warmer.
Ignoring her silverware, Cate digs into the fish and chips as enthusiastically as Billy, tearing off chunks of the beer-battered meat before dipping it into the cup of malt vinegar. She sucks the tart vinegar off of her fingers with an appreciative smile, enjoying the taste almost as much as the sight of the surprised rise of Billy's lips.
"'S good, yeah?" Billy laughs, popping two chips into his own mouth. "I'm a glutton for proper food-”
“This is proper food, Bill.” Cate steals a thick chip nearly teetering off the side of the plate, and Billy nods and laughs.
“Right, conceded. But you know what I mean, the stuff we’re supposed to enjoy when we’ve grown up and grown out. I’m lucky I get to have it more often than most, but sometimes this is just what I need." He swallows around another long drink and leans in to Cate this time, his eyes bright. "And a lot of it, too.”
Cate hums in approval. "I'd argue that the chips in Scotland are much better than the ones you get here, though." She eats a few of these chips just the same, humming as she chews and licking her skin clean from the lingering traces of salt. Very rarely does Cate allow herself to indulge in this sort of treat, but even as her mind scolds her, her taste buds celebrate. Finishing her pint, the beer cool and smooth on her tongue, Cate decides that tonight is a night for the senses, not for rational thoughts, and leaves her concerns at the bottom of her empty glass.
The young men around the dartboard cheer suddenly, and one man is lost amidst a sea of jostling bodies reaching hands, all trying to clap him on his back. Three darts are sticking out of the board, each within the small black circle in the center, and Cate and Billy both watch with amusement as the barkeep makes a show of giving the lucky shooter a free pint. Cate catches a few of the young men looking her way, heads close together and whispering, but once they see their lingering gazes have been detected, they duck their heads almost in unison, turning away.
"Bold and unconquerable, every one. But hard-headed and cocksure, and so terribly young," she mock-sighs, laughing at the startled expression on Billy's face, and she strokes her now warm hand over his forearm resting against the table. "Don't get me wrong; youth has its place," Cate murmurs a little more softly, and she thinks of the pretty young students she’s worked with, in the past and recently, letting the smile that wants to emerge tug at the corners of her mouth. "But age and experience wins out over youth and daring, hmm?"
"They are young," Billy muses, nodding. "But I don't blame them for either their noise or their curiosity. And to be honest, Cate ..." Billy laughs. "I've never seen a less cocksure bunch in my life. Least not since I was one of them, back in--"
The waitress arrives with more chips, and Billy cuts himself off, lets his laugh get a little higher, more delighted. It's only after the girl has disappeared that he presses his hands against the table firmly, as if he's made some decision, and he stands up quickly before leaning back down over the table with a wide grin. "Just going to get a bit more, yeah? And maybe give those lads something to think about."
Billy walks backward for a moment, keeping Cate's gaze and raising his eyebrows before he turns and places their order at the bar, then moves quietly behind the younger professors, placing one hand on the nearest shoulder he finds. "Gentlemen," he says carefully, just loud enough so the back half of the bar can hear him. "A chance? Whatever you’re betting in the 10s, double it on the bullseye. One shot. Who's in?"
The professors search each other's eyes before nodding, their faces growing confident next to the older, shorter, everything-less professor in their midst. Cate watches, fascinated and pleased, as Billy smiles in return and reaches back for his new drink, taking a long swallow before raising his eyes and glass to Cate across the room again. His colour is high and his eyes are flashing, Cate can see, and there's a different rush filling him, one of odd triumph, when Cate meets and matches his stare, nodding to him now with a smile creasing her own face.
Billy turns back to the dartboard, and Cate watches his smile disappear, his expression turning mildly fierce, absolutely certain, before he remembers his role. He looks perfectly right there, Cate thinks, and if she dared close her eyes for a moment she could easily picture him back in St. Andrews, slightly more disheveled and possibly thinner, warier, more defiant but still very much on his game, an older man in younger man’s body, gravity and twitch fighting each other to Billy’s near death. There’s a little of that still left in him, Cate can tell now from gazing at his profile, at the firm set of his jaw as he registers that the professors are watching him, too, vaguely amused. Cate watches Billy feed off their disbelief, use it to propel himself toward the shooting line. He turns the offered dart in his right hand, then his left, considering, then finally laughs and holds it expertly in his right hand. The small bluff has made at least two of the younger men shift in their chairs, but Billy is not quite finished with them yet.
Cate holds a breath as Billy takes one and raises his hand-not to aim; Cate suddenly realizes that he hardly needs to-and releases the dart with the quickest motion any of these bright young things have seen tonight. The dart lands hard and deep into the coarse black material, dead in the bullseye, and Cate almost bursts into laughter, delighted now, too.
You lying bastard, she thinks, but she’s both surprised and impressed. Maybe it was a lark; maybe Billy really doesn't know anything about darts and was using luck and a little cocksurety of his own to hit the mark. It doesn’t matter; he’s a graceful winner, raising one hand in protest when the professors reach for their wallets.
"S'alright, lads," Billy says easily, smiling at each in turn. "Never mind; save it for another night and remember it the next time you think you know what’s coming to you, yeah?" Billy takes up his drink and Cate's, and nods the bartender in Cate's direction for the next, free drink he's earned. "For the professor," he says quietly but clearly, enough that Cate can read his lips.
She finds herself watching Billy intently as he makes his way back to their corner table, a darker, smugger little smile on his lips. Unanswered questions pique her curiosity, and Cate has never been afraid to dig deep for answers. And she wants to question him, to find out how he did that. Cate is a scientist, after all, and searching for the hows and whys is a big part of what motivates her. But she doesn't ask, not this time, thinking that perhaps it better not to know. A little mystery. A ridiculous notion to a scientist, but then again this whole evening could very well fall under the classification of ridiculous, and happily so.
Billy sits down heavily next to Cate, leaning in once more as the musicians on stage begin to tune up. His voice is thicker than before, and yet raspier. "Age and experience," Billy murmurs in Cate's ear. "And let's not forget the ability to bluff like a phasmid."
Cate grins Billy's way over the rim of her pint, and takes a slow sip before speaking, letting the dark liquid honey her words, suddenly inspired by the sound of the music beginning to surround them.
"You were awfully quick to make a bet with those boys. Make one with me, Bill. A friendly wager." Billy looks skeptical and amused at the same time, but Cate presses on, determined to get what she wants tonight, one way or another. The simple fact that Billy's so hesitant makes her want to hear him play all the more. She takes his hand between both of her own, holding it warmly, and leans close again, letting Billy see the affection in her eyes.
"One shot. If I miss, I'll get up on that stage and sing for you-yes, sing, anything you want if I know the words." She flashes Billy a challenging smile. "I know the risks, and my limits, and I haven’t got anything to fear, do I? But if I get it in the bullseye, then you have to play for me."
The skeptical expression turns almost unpleasant on Billy's face, hunted and cornered and worn, but after a long moment he nods, and Cate watches him settle back in his seat as she rises from her own. Watching him watch her, Cate crosses over to the young men by the dartboard. They haven’t heard everything, of course, but they’ve been interested enough in watching the exchange between Billy and Cate that they haven’t yet continued with their game. Cate uses that to her advantage, taking a dart from the hand of the first professor who makes eye contact with her, but then she turns to Billy with a little nod before looking back at the board, focusing her gaze.
When Billy had asked her if Cate played darts, Cate had said no, and that had been the truth; she doesn't play darts. But that doesn't mean she doesn't know how to do so, and there’s skill enough in the desire that actual technique is not going to matter here, she knows it. She can will this to happen, as she’s willed so much of everything else. Setting her sights on the little black circle, Cate stills her mind, letting the background noise and the expectant faces of the young men around her fade away. Eyes on the prize, Cate thinks to herself, then aims, letting the dart fly.
Authors: kiltsandlollies and escribo
Characters: Billy, Cate
Word Count: 3000
Summary: Continues from here.
Index
Note: Note: Original text and characterization of Cate created by magickalmolly; in some chapters through this story, we’ve adapted both text and characterization, but Molly’s work happily remains the foundation for Professor Blanchett.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction; the recognizable people in the story belong to themselves and have never performed the actions portrayed here. I do not know the actors nor am I associated with them in any way. If you are underage, please do not read this story. I am not making any profit from these stories, nor do I mean any harm.
Cate can venture a guess at both Billy’s local and the things he may have been up to inside it, and her smile widens in memory of her own haunts back in St. Andrews. Resting her chin on her hands, Cate watches Billy watching everyone else, and only shakes her head in reply when he asks about darts. Her gaze flicks momentarily to the small swarm of young, over-enthusiastic men crowded around the board, ties hanging loose and shirt sleeves rolled up as they try to distract one another with loud jibes and teasing touches. Cate's eyes darken momentarily at the sight, and she wonders to herself how many of them tonight will drunkenly stumble home together-home and perhaps into bed. Just mates helping one another release a little tension, of course, but Cate recognizes the type, and smirks to herself. There was always a crowd of them in St. Andrews, too, and a few she’d found worth the risk of taking home herself; and among them a percentage who'd been good for far more than one turn in her bed.
Looking to Billy again, Cate tries to imagine Billy back there, and wonders if he was ever part of that half-shambling, half-select club of professors moving in and out each other's reach. Memories from the last few weeks play through her mind: Billy in his car, racing through traffic and singing along with the radio, his smile wicked and hair thrown about by the wind; both of them hungry for something more across the table in that restaurant, and the sweetness of sitting underneath that tree. Through it all Billy's had the air of someone with a great deal more depth than what he'd wanted to let her see, and physically there's enough going for him that he would have fit in nicely among that lot in St. Andrews, the types who still met each other years later with the metaphorical secret handshake of knowing exactly how the other looks, sounds, tastes, and feels at-indeed-their best and worst. Yes, Cate thinks to herself; he could have been one of them. Old habits die hard, as they say, and she’s counting on that.
Cate's smile turns wicked when Billy jokes about the drunken performances they will most likely see this night, and her laughter is light and amused. She sips at her pint, and then idly runs her fingers up and down against the sides of the damp glass when the waitress returns, choosing to hold her comments until after their order has been taken. Cate orders for them both, a huge plate of fish and chips to share, and another round of pints of course, and she is pleased both by Billy's smile of approval and the affectionate touch of his hand across her back. When he looks around the room again a bit distractedly, his eyes settling again in the direction of the little stage, Cate makes her move.
"I want to hear you play tonight." Still resting on her elbows, Cate leans in very close to Billy, looking right into his clear green eyes. Her voice is soft when she speaks, as soft as Billy's had been when he'd spoken in her ear, but she knows Billy can hear her. And she can see instantly his refusal in the way Billy sits back a bit, preparing to shake his head. But Cate is quicker, shaking her own head and grasping lightly at one of his wrists, her wet thumb sliding instinctively against the underside. Billy’s eyes dart immediately to her hand, their focus narrowed and on point, but Cate doesn’t flinch from his reaction; she’s seen better and worse, and just from that small touch she can read worlds of confirmation to several of her own theories about the lovely shambling wreck of a professor Billy pretends to be. It’s tempting to let her thoughts wander off in that direction, but she has more important goals for right now, and she presses ahead with what she’d meant to say.
"Neither of us is a John Lennon, but you've got something in you, I know it. It would be a shame for you not to share it." Cate gives Billy's wrist a gentle squeeze, thrilling to Billy’s flushed-throated reaction to that as well and letting her smile go warm, just for him. "You don’t need to be drunk to do it, either. You’re better than that, are you not?"
"Don’t be too sure.” It comes out quickly, sharply, but Billy’s smile is more kind than firm, and he places one hand over Cate's around his wrist. “I don't think this is the right kind of room for me or what I know how to play, and by the look of those three up there, I doubt they're in the mood to share that stage with someone not playing half as fast as they will be.” He pauses, and Cate almost holds her breath, watching him argue with himself, but then Billy shrugs, his smile a little tighter. “If you’re wanting to have a go, though, Cate, don’t let me stop you. A pretty girl’s going to get a little more attention up there."
Cate can feel her skin flaring up, irritation darkening her cheeks, but she smiles back at Billy far more winningly, lacing her fingers through his for a moment. “I hardly need more than I’m getting, do I? Think it over, Bill; think it through.”
“Don’t think I haven’t,” Billy says lightly, but Cate shakes her head.
“Then don’t overthink it. That’s your specialty, you philosophers,” she murmurs. “You could learn a bit from science, couldn’t you. Let things take their natural course, and interfere only when absolutely necessary. What’s the worst that could happen, hmm? It’s not as if I’m asking you to sing, too.” Billy shifts in his chair, eyes even more narrowed, and Cate lowers her voice to its softest as she leans in closer, holding Billy’s gaze. This is dangerous ground, she can feel it, but Billy’s too much a gentleman to shut her down, and they both know it, and besides, she can see that flicker of interest burning under whatever guard Billy’s working vainly to keep up in his eyes. “Whatever the worst might be, isn’t it worth the risk? Think about how long it’s been since you’ve done something a bit different, hmm?”
“Not--” Billy stops the heated response that nearly flies from my lips and then leans in, too, teeth bared a little; Cate forces herself not to blink, not to move, not to react even as he finally speaks again. “Not as long as you think.”
The waitress arrives, her voice loud above the chatter, and Billy takes a deep breath before he breaks their stare, smiling up at the waitress and blinking in surprise at the enormous amount of food he and Cate will share. His smile broadens, and he rubs his hands together before first looking back to Cate with an expression as placid as if the conversation had never happened, then making an immediate and good start on his second pint and the chips. Cate’s disappointed in Billy's refusal to sing for her, and she has to fight back the frown that threatens to crease her brow. And although his smile had been soft, his voice even more so, Cate had caught something in Billy's gaze, dark like the flicker of a memory, one perhaps Billy wishes not to remember. His excuses are weak at best, but Cate decides that now isn't the time to push. Let him think the topic is closed, and she might bring it up again later, when they are both full of good food and a few shots of something warmer.
Ignoring her silverware, Cate digs into the fish and chips as enthusiastically as Billy, tearing off chunks of the beer-battered meat before dipping it into the cup of malt vinegar. She sucks the tart vinegar off of her fingers with an appreciative smile, enjoying the taste almost as much as the sight of the surprised rise of Billy's lips.
"'S good, yeah?" Billy laughs, popping two chips into his own mouth. "I'm a glutton for proper food-”
“This is proper food, Bill.” Cate steals a thick chip nearly teetering off the side of the plate, and Billy nods and laughs.
“Right, conceded. But you know what I mean, the stuff we’re supposed to enjoy when we’ve grown up and grown out. I’m lucky I get to have it more often than most, but sometimes this is just what I need." He swallows around another long drink and leans in to Cate this time, his eyes bright. "And a lot of it, too.”
Cate hums in approval. "I'd argue that the chips in Scotland are much better than the ones you get here, though." She eats a few of these chips just the same, humming as she chews and licking her skin clean from the lingering traces of salt. Very rarely does Cate allow herself to indulge in this sort of treat, but even as her mind scolds her, her taste buds celebrate. Finishing her pint, the beer cool and smooth on her tongue, Cate decides that tonight is a night for the senses, not for rational thoughts, and leaves her concerns at the bottom of her empty glass.
The young men around the dartboard cheer suddenly, and one man is lost amidst a sea of jostling bodies reaching hands, all trying to clap him on his back. Three darts are sticking out of the board, each within the small black circle in the center, and Cate and Billy both watch with amusement as the barkeep makes a show of giving the lucky shooter a free pint. Cate catches a few of the young men looking her way, heads close together and whispering, but once they see their lingering gazes have been detected, they duck their heads almost in unison, turning away.
"Bold and unconquerable, every one. But hard-headed and cocksure, and so terribly young," she mock-sighs, laughing at the startled expression on Billy's face, and she strokes her now warm hand over his forearm resting against the table. "Don't get me wrong; youth has its place," Cate murmurs a little more softly, and she thinks of the pretty young students she’s worked with, in the past and recently, letting the smile that wants to emerge tug at the corners of her mouth. "But age and experience wins out over youth and daring, hmm?"
"They are young," Billy muses, nodding. "But I don't blame them for either their noise or their curiosity. And to be honest, Cate ..." Billy laughs. "I've never seen a less cocksure bunch in my life. Least not since I was one of them, back in--"
The waitress arrives with more chips, and Billy cuts himself off, lets his laugh get a little higher, more delighted. It's only after the girl has disappeared that he presses his hands against the table firmly, as if he's made some decision, and he stands up quickly before leaning back down over the table with a wide grin. "Just going to get a bit more, yeah? And maybe give those lads something to think about."
Billy walks backward for a moment, keeping Cate's gaze and raising his eyebrows before he turns and places their order at the bar, then moves quietly behind the younger professors, placing one hand on the nearest shoulder he finds. "Gentlemen," he says carefully, just loud enough so the back half of the bar can hear him. "A chance? Whatever you’re betting in the 10s, double it on the bullseye. One shot. Who's in?"
The professors search each other's eyes before nodding, their faces growing confident next to the older, shorter, everything-less professor in their midst. Cate watches, fascinated and pleased, as Billy smiles in return and reaches back for his new drink, taking a long swallow before raising his eyes and glass to Cate across the room again. His colour is high and his eyes are flashing, Cate can see, and there's a different rush filling him, one of odd triumph, when Cate meets and matches his stare, nodding to him now with a smile creasing her own face.
Billy turns back to the dartboard, and Cate watches his smile disappear, his expression turning mildly fierce, absolutely certain, before he remembers his role. He looks perfectly right there, Cate thinks, and if she dared close her eyes for a moment she could easily picture him back in St. Andrews, slightly more disheveled and possibly thinner, warier, more defiant but still very much on his game, an older man in younger man’s body, gravity and twitch fighting each other to Billy’s near death. There’s a little of that still left in him, Cate can tell now from gazing at his profile, at the firm set of his jaw as he registers that the professors are watching him, too, vaguely amused. Cate watches Billy feed off their disbelief, use it to propel himself toward the shooting line. He turns the offered dart in his right hand, then his left, considering, then finally laughs and holds it expertly in his right hand. The small bluff has made at least two of the younger men shift in their chairs, but Billy is not quite finished with them yet.
Cate holds a breath as Billy takes one and raises his hand-not to aim; Cate suddenly realizes that he hardly needs to-and releases the dart with the quickest motion any of these bright young things have seen tonight. The dart lands hard and deep into the coarse black material, dead in the bullseye, and Cate almost bursts into laughter, delighted now, too.
You lying bastard, she thinks, but she’s both surprised and impressed. Maybe it was a lark; maybe Billy really doesn't know anything about darts and was using luck and a little cocksurety of his own to hit the mark. It doesn’t matter; he’s a graceful winner, raising one hand in protest when the professors reach for their wallets.
"S'alright, lads," Billy says easily, smiling at each in turn. "Never mind; save it for another night and remember it the next time you think you know what’s coming to you, yeah?" Billy takes up his drink and Cate's, and nods the bartender in Cate's direction for the next, free drink he's earned. "For the professor," he says quietly but clearly, enough that Cate can read his lips.
She finds herself watching Billy intently as he makes his way back to their corner table, a darker, smugger little smile on his lips. Unanswered questions pique her curiosity, and Cate has never been afraid to dig deep for answers. And she wants to question him, to find out how he did that. Cate is a scientist, after all, and searching for the hows and whys is a big part of what motivates her. But she doesn't ask, not this time, thinking that perhaps it better not to know. A little mystery. A ridiculous notion to a scientist, but then again this whole evening could very well fall under the classification of ridiculous, and happily so.
Billy sits down heavily next to Cate, leaning in once more as the musicians on stage begin to tune up. His voice is thicker than before, and yet raspier. "Age and experience," Billy murmurs in Cate's ear. "And let's not forget the ability to bluff like a phasmid."
Cate grins Billy's way over the rim of her pint, and takes a slow sip before speaking, letting the dark liquid honey her words, suddenly inspired by the sound of the music beginning to surround them.
"You were awfully quick to make a bet with those boys. Make one with me, Bill. A friendly wager." Billy looks skeptical and amused at the same time, but Cate presses on, determined to get what she wants tonight, one way or another. The simple fact that Billy's so hesitant makes her want to hear him play all the more. She takes his hand between both of her own, holding it warmly, and leans close again, letting Billy see the affection in her eyes.
"One shot. If I miss, I'll get up on that stage and sing for you-yes, sing, anything you want if I know the words." She flashes Billy a challenging smile. "I know the risks, and my limits, and I haven’t got anything to fear, do I? But if I get it in the bullseye, then you have to play for me."
The skeptical expression turns almost unpleasant on Billy's face, hunted and cornered and worn, but after a long moment he nods, and Cate watches him settle back in his seat as she rises from her own. Watching him watch her, Cate crosses over to the young men by the dartboard. They haven’t heard everything, of course, but they’ve been interested enough in watching the exchange between Billy and Cate that they haven’t yet continued with their game. Cate uses that to her advantage, taking a dart from the hand of the first professor who makes eye contact with her, but then she turns to Billy with a little nod before looking back at the board, focusing her gaze.
When Billy had asked her if Cate played darts, Cate had said no, and that had been the truth; she doesn't play darts. But that doesn't mean she doesn't know how to do so, and there’s skill enough in the desire that actual technique is not going to matter here, she knows it. She can will this to happen, as she’s willed so much of everything else. Setting her sights on the little black circle, Cate stills her mind, letting the background noise and the expectant faces of the young men around her fade away. Eyes on the prize, Cate thinks to herself, then aims, letting the dart fly.