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Vaurien had always considered himself a man of high class. His tastes refined, cultured- even the murders he’d planned when he was alive had an extravagance to them. He was an Artist! That’s why, when his second (and only) in command had asked him to dinner, he thought it implied that it would take a lot to meet his high and completely reasonable standards. Thrasher knew better than anyone of what Scapegrace would expect of him, after all.
So when Gerald had led him to the back alley of a very well known Italian restaurant, Vaurien did his best to keep the surprise off his face. He didn’t want his subordinate to expect praise for doing what he believed to be the bare minimum. He was a king after all. However, having to enter through the back was a bit of a letdown if he were to be honest to himself. The decay of his body had been halted since he’d come back from the necropolis and the experiments Dr.Nye had performed when he wasn’t a part of his own body had even reversed some of it, too. Both he and Thrasher looked miles more human than they had been months ago, yet the dark lips and sunken eyes never seemed to fully reverse on then.
He thought it over in his mind for a moment. Make-up fixed what magic couldn’t so he didn’t reason himself hideous enough to need snuck in the back. So it only stood to reason that this was actually some sort of special treat organized by his first turned. Again, his pride swelled and the thought and his mood took an upturn. Had Thrasher gotten him a private room in a famous restaurant, the real VIP treatment someome like him truly deserved? Was this really something his date had been able to set up just for him? Was he-
Thrasher stopped abruptly near the end of the alley, causing a zoned out Scapegrace to run into the other man's back. Vaurien started up with his complaining but he was quickly shushed to silence. Thrasher gestured ahead of them with a proud flourish and for once in his life, the killer supreme was rendered totally speechless.
Ahead of them, under the glow of an alley lamp and on the seemingly permanently rain damp concrete, was a table. It wore a red checkered tablecloth that was perfectly ironed, a lit white taper candle on a perfectly tarnished golden candle holder, and a tall, glass vase, which held a single blooming red rose. Just all this raised Vaurien’s eyebrows in surprise. How had Thrasher even arranged this? Who did he know?
All was answered when a very familiar head of long, blue hair popped out of a back door, smiling like a fool at the pair.
“Glad to see my boys got here in one piece,” Clarabelle said as she bound out the door with a basket of what Scapegrace assumed to be bread in her hands. She then set the simple loathes on the table, giving Scapegrace a chance to get a good look at her. She donned a simple uniform; white dress shirt, black vest with a golden nametag on the chest, black dress pants semi tight to her legs. A pair of matte blue flats with black bows that complimented her hair finished the outfit quite brilliantly if Scapegrace had to admit. It looked almost…business like. A corporate uniform. That could only mean-
"You have a job here, Clarabelle? How could you get a job? I mean, the last time you set foot in a restaurant-"
"Hey!" Clarabelle interrupted. "Don't worry about me, Scapey! You have a date to worry about." She said while decorating the table with two plates and adequate silverware. "I'll be back with some food!"
And then, she was gone. Right through the door back into the restaurant. Scapegrace stared at the door, in awe of what happened, for just a moment. And then he remembered he was on a date in an alley. He turned to Thrasher and was about to give him a piece of his mind- until he saw the expression on the doofus' face…and he couldn't understand why all of his anger started to melt away. Thrasher was looking at me with…with a look. It's hard to put into words how that look looked. His sunken in eyes were full of warmth and his lips were turned up, just so. It was just happy…it was something more. Thrasher was more than happy, more than content. He looked down right smitten.
"You look…really nice in the candlelight, Boss."
If Scapegrace’s heart was beating, or if it was still there, it would have skipped a beat. Of course he looked really nice! He put together the best pieces of clothing he had for the outfit he was wearing! And, not to mention, Scapegrace always looked really nice. Nevertheless…there was something about how Thrasher said it…
"Of course I look nice, you idiot!" Scapegrace said after enough time in his own mental dialogue. "This is my date, after all. A date that so happens to be in an alley. Do you think I deserve to sit in an alley, Thrasher?"
Gerald blinked- and then he got shy. He twiddled his thumbs lightly. "Well, sir…This was the best I could do for you. This was the best Italian restaurant in town…and I remember how you said you loved Italian! And, well, no one would serve a Zombie…so, I, uhm- I asked Clarabelle to help! She got this all set up for us without telling her Boss.."
Gerald prattled on more about the date. About the candle holder he had bought at a thrift store, the table cloth he had ironed (and how he burned his hands), and how he had to shoot away street rats for days so this date would be perfect…and without rats. Scapegrace listened to Thrasher with a sort of blank stare. On the outside it would look like he didn't care much, but on the inside he was having a bit of a crisis. Sure, Thrasher was supposed to do things like this for his ultimate, super cool leader. In fact, Scapegrace deserved to go on this date! But there was just…something more about it all. Like…Thrasher really cared. Really cared about him.
That's when Clarabelle brought out the huge bowl of Spaghetti and meatballs for them both to enjoy. It wasn't very much, but it would have to do. Scapegrace wouldn't turn his nose away to some four star Spaghetti and meatballs. The two picked up their forks…and began to eat.
The air was still in the alley. The only sounds surrounding them were the buzz of the street lamps, the sound of cutlery, and the muffled music coming within the restaurant. The Spaghetti was good. Thrasher tried to fill the dead air with some idle conversation. 'I think we should decorate the front door for Christmas' he said, 'Should we take some pictures and frame them?' He would ask. And Scapegrace would answer whole heartedly. Only the best decorations for Scapegrace and only the most expensive frames for pictures of Scapegrace and his friends. Well- his friend Clarabelle…and Thrasher. Thrasher looked up at Scapegrace.
"Is something wrong, Master?" Thrasher asked
"...I'm just blinded by how ugly you are." Scapegrace responded. And then he paused…and tried again. "I am…also having a really good time, Thrasher. This is nice. You did…a good job. This isn't the perfect date, but I guess it's good enough." Of course, Scapegrace hadn't gone on many dates at all, but that's not important. And he'd never let Thrasher know that.
Thrasher lit up after he heard Scapegrace’s compliments. "Oh thank you, Master! Thank you! I was thinking, after this, we could go back home and watch a movie? The one you like?"
Scapegrace looked at him and sighed. "Fine- fine. We can watch a movie."
Thrasher beamed. He turned back to his plate of spaghetti and ate it with new found vigor- only choking on it sometimes and getting his face covered with sauce. It was a sight to behold. It was pathetic and embarrassing…but it was Thrasher. And maybe that's what Scapegrace liked about him. Maybe he liked that Thrasher did all of this for him in his own, weird way…or that Thrasher wanted to watch a movie that Scapegrace liked. Or maybe he liked that someone actually wanted to put in effort to make him happy.
Scapegrace couldn't help but smile.
"Would you like to do a lady and the tramp, Master?" Thrasher asked.
"I don't know what that is."
"Oh, well- it's where I push a meatball over to you with my nose and, and you eat! And then we share a spaghetti noodle, and-"
"That sounds stupid, Thrasher."
"Oh."
"Just hand me another meatball."
And Thrasher did. With his hand. Scapegrace rolled his eyes…but he still ate it anyway. It was a good meatball.
It was a good movie.
Scapegrace looked over at Gerald, sitting beside him on the couch, snoring. Stupid Thrasher fell asleep in the middle of the movie.
Scapegrace smiled at him. Stupid, stupid Thrasher…
It was a good night.