[He grins as she comes around to it, and tosses the pamphlet aside.]
Fuck yeah! We just gotta talk like we're rich, right? They just want our money, who cares what we look like!
[Him with his fucked up face and gang colors and her a teenage girl in a tiny top - look, they could be rich, right? If they pretend they're going to buy the nicest wine off the list then who's going to tell them no?
So with that decided, Johnnie pulls her in for a quick kiss, then tugs her along to the bike. The restaurant isn't far, and they're there in minutes - clearly, clearly underdressed. The couple who walks in the door while they're parking are in a sport jacket and elegant cream dress. But fuck them. Johnnie walks on forward with confidence toward the doorman who looks responsible for letting people in.
The man, balding with a waxed moustache, looks him and Chrissy up and down.]
Do you have a reservation, sir?
[Johnnie blinks. Right, reservations, that's a shitty thing these snobs do.]
Yeah. Yeah, under Miller. Sam Miller? For two.
[Common names - hell, they might get lucky. But Johnnie's not counting on that name being on the list, he just doesn't want to give his own. Maybe they can convince the dude their reservation is lost. Otherwise, fuck it. They'll figure something else out.]
no subject
Fuck yeah! We just gotta talk like we're rich, right? They just want our money, who cares what we look like!
[Him with his fucked up face and gang colors and her a teenage girl in a tiny top - look, they could be rich, right? If they pretend they're going to buy the nicest wine off the list then who's going to tell them no?
So with that decided, Johnnie pulls her in for a quick kiss, then tugs her along to the bike. The restaurant isn't far, and they're there in minutes - clearly, clearly underdressed. The couple who walks in the door while they're parking are in a sport jacket and elegant cream dress. But fuck them. Johnnie walks on forward with confidence toward the doorman who looks responsible for letting people in.
The man, balding with a waxed moustache, looks him and Chrissy up and down.]
Do you have a reservation, sir?
[Johnnie blinks. Right, reservations, that's a shitty thing these snobs do.]
Yeah. Yeah, under Miller. Sam Miller? For two.
[Common names - hell, they might get lucky. But Johnnie's not counting on that name being on the list, he just doesn't want to give his own. Maybe they can convince the dude their reservation is lost. Otherwise, fuck it. They'll figure something else out.]