Work Text:
"You could at least try and look like you want to be here, you know."
To her credit, by all appearances, she looks as if she belongs. At least, the flashy red dress, formal jewellery, and tidy hairstyle say as much. Her posture… not so much.
"You're stiff as a board, Zaryanova," Lynx sighs, reaching to join hands across the table. "Would you rather we just leave? It's not like we've ordered yet."
"No," Zarya spits out, probably a little too fast. The flush on her cheeks isn't just the makeup she's wearing (and isn't that a weird sight to see?).
Lynx's antenna flicks upwards in question.
"I… do not wish to leave," she explains, quieter than the outburst. Suddenly, her menu is terribly fascinating. "It is… new to me. This place. This style of place."
Lynx just nods. Yeah. It's pretty fancy for them too– it's not everyday they forgo their comfortable, perfect jumpsuit in favour of a fitted suit. But, it's not totally new territory. They've been to such formal events before –usually restaurant meetings with upper scale clientele– but they doubt Zarya's been to anything like this. The dress is new, too. It has to be. It looks so strange on her, Lynx so used to seeing her in gym wear or sweats, but they can't deny it does something for them.
She's gorgeous.
"–Is it just for my benefit?"
…They'll just let it slide that they almost entirely tuned out half of whatever she was saying, enamoured with her as they were in the moment. Instead, they settle on, "What, just because I can't eat?"
A nod, to which they immediately shake their head.
"There's other things on the menu, you know. That aren't food?" When they get stared at like they've suddenly grown flesh, they go on to add, "Have you seriously never heard of omnic oil?"
"For … lubricant?"
"Well, yes, but– Alcohol. It's like alcohol for omnics, I guess," Lynx shrugs. The menu in front of them (actual paper! classy) gets pulled closer, and they flip to the appropriate page to show her. There, across from the wine list, is the selection of fine omnic oils and tonics to choose from.
The human leans forward to take in the contents of the page. After a long while, Zarya nods, sits up a little more in her chair. To Lynx's surprise, some of that tension in her shoulders loosens up. Not entirely, she's never totally relaxed (and they'll work on that eventually), but– it's enough. For now.
"So then you will get something out of this as well," she states, and this time it isn't a question.
Lynx hums. "Sure will."
Another nod, and finally, finally, she grabs her own menu to flip through, all at once looking more and more like she belongs here. Like she wants to be here. With Lynx. On a nice, fancy dinner date. Her discomfort didn't lie with the situation so much as it did with the possibility of Lynx being left out.
If there's a couple skips in Lynx's processes because of the thought– who's counting? A moment later, a waiter comes by to take their drink orders, and Lynx knows the date's going to go just fine.