09-15-2013, 09:04 AM
Gio was just a walking stereotype, wasn't he? Claire thought with a small smile. That he couldn't pay her after all didn't diminish her smile, nor force her to withdraw into herself like some door suddenly locked her out. Claire was never one to cast harsh criticisms without due cause, but she did have this tiny detail of having to provide for herself. Her relocation, pay offs, and life so far in Moscow was quickly eating away at her savings. As appealing as shopping with Gio was, a steady income was quickly becoming necessary.
She swirled the olives through the martini while she listened to his quick biography. Then eventually plucked one off the skewer between her teeth and plopped the remainder back to the drink. The strong aroma of vinegar squeezed out of the bitter bite. The grimace to cross her face was half pleasure and half pain, but it was savored.
As far as I am concerned...? That was a strange way to put it. Venice, Italy? Gio was certainly Italian. That was for sure. But a gondolier? Was that the equivalent of being a cab-driver in New York? Was the profession that common or was he playing to the stereotype? Claire couldn't say. Other than the man he presented himself to be was rather one sided. In all that, never once did his eyes light up with excitement. Never once did his voice sharpen with eagerness to talk.
Except when she asked to call him Gio. Strange. Very strange.
"Alright, Gio. I'll take the job, and you can pay me on a per-consultant basis. But in the meantime, I need a real job."
She plucked the second olive and downed the rest of the martini in a single fell swoop to gather herself to go. The gin touched her head with a pleasant tingle, and she pulled out a Wallet to swap contact information. Gio may not have the funds for something like that, but either way, he could always write down her number the old fashioned way: on a bar napkin.
<small>Claire Novak, voice and mail contact.</small>
"We'll meet up soon. In the meantime, your first assignment is to figure out your budget for this little make-over. I don't want to spend all my time searching the racks at the GUM only to end up at some Old Arbat thrift-shop."
She urged him with the order with the stern way women can, then pat him on the arm, swept a finger across her bangs to tug them from her eyes and gathered her things.
She swirled the olives through the martini while she listened to his quick biography. Then eventually plucked one off the skewer between her teeth and plopped the remainder back to the drink. The strong aroma of vinegar squeezed out of the bitter bite. The grimace to cross her face was half pleasure and half pain, but it was savored.
As far as I am concerned...? That was a strange way to put it. Venice, Italy? Gio was certainly Italian. That was for sure. But a gondolier? Was that the equivalent of being a cab-driver in New York? Was the profession that common or was he playing to the stereotype? Claire couldn't say. Other than the man he presented himself to be was rather one sided. In all that, never once did his eyes light up with excitement. Never once did his voice sharpen with eagerness to talk.
Except when she asked to call him Gio. Strange. Very strange.
"Alright, Gio. I'll take the job, and you can pay me on a per-consultant basis. But in the meantime, I need a real job."
She plucked the second olive and downed the rest of the martini in a single fell swoop to gather herself to go. The gin touched her head with a pleasant tingle, and she pulled out a Wallet to swap contact information. Gio may not have the funds for something like that, but either way, he could always write down her number the old fashioned way: on a bar napkin.
<small>Claire Novak, voice and mail contact.</small>
"We'll meet up soon. In the meantime, your first assignment is to figure out your budget for this little make-over. I don't want to spend all my time searching the racks at the GUM only to end up at some Old Arbat thrift-shop."
She urged him with the order with the stern way women can, then pat him on the arm, swept a finger across her bangs to tug them from her eyes and gathered her things.