In Which Future Fabulous Roomates Have Dinner in Celebration of Incoming Awesomeness

[the_prettygirl]

[OOC: Dated to whenever we freaking want it to be.]

There was nothing like seeing an old friend, especially the ones who share your last name.  Brooke had arrived to New York City--the place she'd been having nightmares about--with a jaunty little bounce in her step.  Just a few days ago, she thought she'd been at a standstill.  Back from Paris,

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[criminal_issues]

This made it easier. It made his uneventful Summer an event in it of itself. He should have been happy in italy. He should've had the time of his life. But his job hadn't warranted a ton of friends in New York. Pepper was busy, Marion was in Los Angeles and even she hadn't spoken to him in months. Ignoring his mother's impending nuptials made everything easier. Made the fine wines go down smoother. Italy just seemed -- right and wrong at the same time.

He wasn't one to spur of the moment get a roommate but he knew Brooke and he got along and this way there wouldn't be a word "alone" mentioned between them.

Unlike Brooke, he was running late. What to wear to a celebration of friendship merging? He finally decided on a black button down and jeans before catching a cab to Zorba's, a Greek restaurant he had been at with Pepper before. It was good food and good culture. Why wouldn't Brooke enjoy it?

"B. Davis!"

Devon hadn't meant to yell so loudly as he made his way through the restaurant to their table for two.

[the_prettygirl]

She heard that voice. She knew that voice. And no one ever called her that besides Peyton. And that was not a bony little blond coming her way.

And because Brooke was never one for subtle greetings, she stood up and faced him with a bright grin. She didn't even let him get to his seat before she enveloped him in a giant Brooke Davis hug.

"Look at you," she said when she finally released him, making an exaggerated appreciative face. "Italy's done you well, buddy."

[criminal_issues]

He was good with the hug. Had she not initiated it Devon would have. His hands around her he managed to squeeze and lift the fashion maven up off the ground. He grinned and set her down, pulling back.

"Italy's done me a tan - and a higher alcohol tolerance," he responded dryly. "But you," he added. "Paris did you wonders -- not that you needed any wonders done to you." He smiled and let go of her, clearing his throat.

[the_prettygirl]

She beamed up at him when he finally set her back down. Did she care about the surrounding tables that were now sending curious and slightly annoyed glances at them?

"Oh I cannot wait to test that booze tolerance, Devan Davis."

Clearly not. "And you didn't lose any of that good taste, boy. Paris was amazing." She grabbed his hand and gently pulled him toward his chair. "Let's sit before these people think we're freaks."