bury me in straight laced shoes, a box backed suit and a stetson hat

[attitude]

It really said something about how much there was to do on Tabula Rasa, that Faye Valentine had offered herself up as a prize for a volunteer auction. With gambling being as fickle of a beast as it was, Faye had no way of guaranteeing that someone decent would win her as their prize. But maybe a part of her just didn't care anymore, would have been fine even with the dregs of island society opposite her at the dinner table, just as long as it meant having something interesting to deal with for a night. That was why she hadn't bothered asking around after this 'Felix Unger' character, figuring that it was best left to her vivid imagination until the night of the date.

And meanwhile, she could at least settle on a dress, an understated skin-toned fabric accented with a bright azure belt, the pattern sweet and feminine. While it was perfectly possible that Mr. Unger had seen her walking about the island in her hot pants and wouldn't be fooled by the facade, Faye preferred to put on a show, whatever would get her the most yield. Fine dining didn't exist on the island, and clothing she could get with enough pleading at the box's side, but Faye would have settled for plain old chivalry right then.

She waited by the entrance of the Winchester, having left a note in Felix's inbox to meet her there rather than at her doorstep. Hopeful she was (barely), but foolish Faye wasn't.

If he wasn't the type of man to take on a second date, she wasn't going to help him try.

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[oscaroscaroscar.livejournal.com]

Felix was not a gambling man by nature, but he'd been missing his weekly poker games with the guys for years now, and the island's casino night had been a welcome opportunity to recapture that same spirit of camaraderie with his new friends and neighbors. He also just so happened to be pretty darn good at it when he applied himself, so when his modest winnings proved enough to win himself the company of a (presumably, otherwise why would she ever have volunteered?) lovely young woman for an evening, further benefits had been revealed, like the layers of a particularly vice-ridden onion. Who knew what could lay at its core?

Considering that this was his first date in quite some time (864 days, to be precise, lunch at La Nueva Victoria and two tickets to I puritani with Miriam, not that he was counting), he came prepared. Dressed in a long-cut dress shirt patterned with criss-crossing lengths of rope that he's been saving for a special occasion and sensible slacks, his shoes polished to a shine (though there wasn't actually anything special about that), he arrived at the Winchester precisely at the appointed minute.

"Ms. Valentine?" he asked, pleased to see that he apparently hadn't wasted his bid as he presented her with a pair of freshly-picked heliconias that he'd hidden in his shirtsleeve. "Pour vous."