Brains and beauty, Dawn has both, not to mention one hell of a right hook. Not that she plans on decking him and when he offers his hand she returns the gesture, smiling a little to herself at his perfectly manicured fingers. Her own are far less pristine, her nails short with probably some kind of grime or blood under them and her knuckles are scuffed up from years of fighting.
"Dawn Granger." Her eyes remain steady and if she recognizes him she makes no indication as such.
"So are you one of the ones who came with an empty stomach? Or are you solely here for the free alcohol?” She asks, nodding slightly towards the glass of champagne he's holding.
The hands are one of the most telling things about a person, and Ransom is nothing if not extremely observant, always seeking little details to use for or against someone. He takes her hand, places a courteous little peck on the back of it before gently letting it down. He hasn't been around hands like hers a whole lot, and it immediately makes him curious.
He laughs at their shared joke, before shaking his head.
"Are you kidding? I had a whole meal before I came here." She doesn't acknowledge his name, which makes this a little more difficult. The challenge hooks him in like a fish.
"I was charged with organizing this thing, so I knew." He lifts his brows, tips his head with a roll of his eyes to downplay the fact. He's not showing off here. "Should I start apologizing for not ordering real catering, or is the bougie fingerfood impressing you?"
There's a slight lift to one of her brows when he mentions that he was the one in charge of organizing the event and she looks out at the servers holding trays before turning her attention back to him.
"I'd be more impressed if you had cooked all of it yourself."
Which is both a little dig as well as the truth, Dawn is the type of woman who places a lot of importance on cooking. It's a life skill but also a way of connecting with friends and family.
"Also I was under the impression that this was a Linda Drysdale event. Are you her assistant?"
Charged. He said charged--not in charge, because if he was in charge, all of this would be much, much better. It's a small detail, perhaps, but not to someone like him, who is meticulous and calculated beneath that easy, breezy surface.
He laughs easily with her question, the humour a bright spark lighting up his blue eyes.
"She wishes I was her assistant," he answers, after lowering his flute with a sip. "I'm her son, and before you ask, no, I don't work for her. She just thought having me here would help with the coziness, you know? Feels like a loving family and all." The sardonic hint in his voice is the honest part, but he says it like a joke.
"I mean--honestly, I'd help her out wherever she needs me." That part's not totally honest. His smirk tapers. "And you? What brings you to town?" Boston isn't a big city, and she clearly is not from it.
She's perceptive enough to know when a joke is actually that, a joke, and when it's just a guise and her brow lifts a little higher.
"My apologies, I read that she had a son but it listed his name as Hugh."
And he introduced himself as something different, which is another interesting detail.
"I'm actually here for real estate." Unlike the others they discussed earlier who were primarily here for food and booze, "I saw that your mother is one of the top agents in the area and decided this would be a good place to see how she conducts business."
A small smile as she sips her drink, "You can learn a lot about someone by watching how they interact with others."
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trustfundee) wrote2020-03-13 10:16 am
no subject
"Dawn Granger." Her eyes remain steady and if she recognizes him she makes no indication as such.
"So are you one of the ones who came with an empty stomach? Or are you solely here for the free alcohol?” She asks, nodding slightly towards the glass of champagne he's holding.
no subject
He laughs at their shared joke, before shaking his head.
"Are you kidding? I had a whole meal before I came here." She doesn't acknowledge his name, which makes this a little more difficult. The challenge hooks him in like a fish.
"I was charged with organizing this thing, so I knew." He lifts his brows, tips his head with a roll of his eyes to downplay the fact. He's not showing off here. "Should I start apologizing for not ordering real catering, or is the bougie fingerfood impressing you?"
no subject
"I'd be more impressed if you had cooked all of it yourself."
Which is both a little dig as well as the truth, Dawn is the type of woman who places a lot of importance on cooking. It's a life skill but also a way of connecting with friends and family.
"Also I was under the impression that this was a Linda Drysdale event. Are you her assistant?"
no subject
He laughs easily with her question, the humour a bright spark lighting up his blue eyes.
"She wishes I was her assistant," he answers, after lowering his flute with a sip. "I'm her son, and before you ask, no, I don't work for her. She just thought having me here would help with the coziness, you know? Feels like a loving family and all." The sardonic hint in his voice is the honest part, but he says it like a joke.
"I mean--honestly, I'd help her out wherever she needs me." That part's not totally honest. His smirk tapers. "And you? What brings you to town?" Boston isn't a big city, and she clearly is not from it.
no subject
"My apologies, I read that she had a son but it listed his name as Hugh."
And he introduced himself as something different, which is another interesting detail.
"I'm actually here for real estate." Unlike the others they discussed earlier who were primarily here for food and booze, "I saw that your mother is one of the top agents in the area and decided this would be a good place to see how she conducts business."
A small smile as she sips her drink, "You can learn a lot about someone by watching how they interact with others."