Dawn loses the thread of what her date is saying as she watches Ethan several booths away. A booth full of frat boys completely blocks her view of his companion, so Dawn can't even tell if it's a man or a woman. She looks for clues in his body language. There's not much facial expression to work with: between the glass-sdaded light hanging above the table and the candle flickering below, shadows on his face make it impossible to read from here.
She watches his hands. They're in almost constant motion as he talks, but they don't extend across the table to rest on his companion's arm or clasp a hand. When the other person talks, Ethan toys with his pint glass, listening intently. Several empty glasses litter the table, so clearly they've been there for a while.
Dawn's date drones on, completely unaware that he's lost her. Blah blah blah father images, Ozzie Nelson to Ozzy Osborne.
"I have to use the ladies," Dawn says as he's mid-sentence. "Be right back."
She sails past his booth on the first pass, seemingly oblivious. Having a direct look at the dinner companion would be totally obvious, plus she wants to give her hair a quick brush and do the spinach check. Inside the restroom she fixes hair, teeth, makeup, pops an Altoid -- and while she's there, she has a pee.
She lets out a breath as she approaches Ethan's booth. His dinner partner is Professor Roberts, the chair of her department. Old as dirt, sweet as pie, and gayer than all the Queer Eye guys rolled into one. He lights up as he sees Dawn coming, and gestures her over.
"Ethan, I'd like you to meet one of our star students, Dawn Summers. Dawn, this is Ethan Devereaux, who's been undertaking some specialized research here."
Ethan takes her hand, but instead of a businesslike shake, he just holds it in a way that makes her feel, as Faith would say, twelve kinds of horny. "I hope you're not wasting this young woman's talents burying her under household accounts."
Exactly what they've been doing with her.
"You know Dawn?"
"We frequent the same coffee bar."
Though frequent is not exactly the word, Dawn thinks.
"She dropped a few papers," Ethan continues. "I got a look at them as I handed them back. You wouldn't want to bore this one to tears, Iain. It would be a shame to lose her."
Still holding her hand, gazing at her. Dawn feels a sudden throb that makes her cheeks flame. What Faith calls the down-low tickle.
Ethan releases her hand. "Delighted to meet you officially at last."
"Me too. I have to -- someone's waiting. I --" She finishes all in a rush. "I hope I see you around."
Dawn flees, back to the boring safety of her date.
