Dining out - continued

The waiter returns and pours your wine. You order lobster while Diana asks for scallops. You clink glasses and sip the excellent wine.

You wait for Diana to say something, but she sits silently wearing a neutral expression.

“You look fantastic by the way, glasses notwithstanding. I thought you said Diana Prince dresses “frumpily?” I’m having a hard time picturing that word applying to you in any context, but certainly not in that dress.”

“That’s because you haven’t seen my cat lady sweatshirt,” she offer with another of those empty smiles.

Your chuckle sounds **** even to you. “OK now I have to see it.”

She tilts her head to one side. “Well then, I know what to wear when I cook you dinner at my place.” She doesn’t even pretend to be looking forward to it.

“Wow. I’ve never had a woman invite me back to her place with less enthusiasm. Doesn’t agreeing to a dinner date imply at least trying to have a good time?”

She actually snorts, tho of course on her it’s effortlessly charming. ”I’ve been on enough dates in Man’s World to know that’s hardly a given. If you wanted a more enthusiastic date perhaps you should’ve tried NOT tying me up, sexually assaulting me, and blackmailing me.” She says it lightly enough but there’s no mistaking the steel underneath.

You roll your eyes. “Right. Cuz a guy like me could’ve just asked you out, and you totally would’ve said yes to some random security grunt.”

She shrugs a shoulder, “I guess we’ll never know.”

Awkward silence is awkward.

“I do have one favor to ask,” you say after a minute.

“Only one?”

“For now. Seeing how it’s just us, would you be willing to take off the glasses so I can actually see your face?”

She thinks about it for a moment and nods, “I suppose that’s reasonable.” She removes the glasses and the difference is instantaneous – where a second ago you were looking at an attractive woman, now you are sitting across from a goddess. “Better?”

“Infinitely,” you manage to say without drooling.

She nods, acknowledging the compliment but unmoved by it. “Thank you.”

Another moment of silence passes awkwardly.

“For what it’s worth,” you eventually come up with, “I apologize for using your friends’ secrets against you. I played the hand I was dealt, but I recognize it was a dick move. None of them have done anything to me.”

She stares at you for a moment and her small nod is more genuine. “Well that’s something I suppose.” She takes another sip, and studies you over her wine glass. “Would you actually have exposed their identities if I hadn’t played along?”

Now it’s your turn to shrug. “I guess we’ll never know,” you say as the waiter brings your entrees. Which turn out to be as amazing as expected.