Viva Las Vegas [Grayson]

It had taken a solid year for Grayson to recover enough that he didn't need a wheelchair or walker to get around with after his nearly fatal accident, and the experience had driven the stake in the heart of his attempt at following his mother's footsteps. After he was well enough to be on his own, he threw himself wholeheartedly into his passion, obtaining his GED and filling out dozens of applications until he'd managed to snag a spot at a prestigious culinary school in Washington. His passion and drive for the art had so impressed his instructors, that he'd been offered a summer position working at a five star establishment in Vegas. It was the first major job he'd landed, and his talents had paid off thus far.

It was an added bonus that he got to enjoy all the things that Vegas had to offer, though he tended to steer clear of the bar scene, the damage done to his insides made drinking especially bad for him. But he still enjoyed seeing all the sights, and he'd even managed to catch a match just the night prior, in which the fresh new contender Zara had dominated the ring. The fight had been exhilarating, and he was enchanted by just how passionate she seemed to be.

He'd been surprised when that very same name popped up requesting dessert, and despite one of the other chefs volunteering, he'd been chosen to prepare this one, as most of them knew by now that this was his specialty. Grayson had always put a surprising amount of delicate details into his desserts, with intricate designs and flowering, it could almost be mistaken for sculpture if it didn't smell so sweet.

He was eager to get a moment to talk to the young woman, and was persistent in his insisting to take it out to her, making sure his clothes were in order as much as possible before heading out. He knew he didn't quite look the part of a talented chef, with his rowdy hair shaved hair, and the lingering scars across his face, he looked more like a thug, he realized, with eyes that were decades older than he actually was. He was sure he looked 40, tired and worn and a little to distrustful. But he did his best impression of a friendly smile as he approached her table, "good evening, miss, the chef wanted me to deliver this to you personally." He gave her a wink and chuckled, "I saw your fight. You are such an asskicker." He covered his mouth, looking sheepish, "I hope no one heard that...I'm Grayson."

Zara looked up from the window as someone approached her table, the man in a chef's coat but with eyes far older than his face. She'd seen eyes like that, in the faces of some of her parent's friends, the eyes of people who'd seen too much. She realized after just a moment though that she was staring and pulled her gaze back to look at all of him, smiling brightly as the dessert was placed in front of her.

Thanks, this looks great!"

She nodded at the introduction "I'm Zara...er...I mean...you already knew that..." She dropped her face to her palm for a moment, looking maybe a little embarrassed, but more amused than not. "Sorry. I guess part of me is still getting kind of used to all these people knowing who I am, it's kinda trippy, right?" she smiled at him, the smile that so easily won people over to the energetic, enthusiastic young woman.

"It's nice to meet you, Grayson...and this..." She indicated the dessert. "Seriously, this looks amazing. I think I picked the right thing."

He could feel the heat reach his ears as she stared at him for a moment, a long moment it felt like, though he was sure it only lasted a few seconds. People always stared at him like this when they saw him, a grim reminder of the dumpster fire that he really was. He was pulled from his thought however when she chirped a reply, managing his best smile, "Yeah? I'm glad you think so, I saw your name on the order and had to come out and talk to you." A soft, slightly awkward chuckle, the kind of sound from someone who was not accustomed to being social in any way.

"Ha! Yeah I imagine, Kinda know how that feels..." Though his name was known for much less pleasant reasons, at least growing up, the threat of being dragged into gang wars he never asked for...He realized after a minute that he'd slipped into a thousand yard stare, and shook the cobwebs from his head to smile at her, "you were killer out there in the ring. I've been to a lot of those fights, but I've never seen anyone with your passion!" He could appreciate passion.

He chuckled and managed a playful smile, "don't give me too much credit until you try it, Zara!" Of course he was confident it tasted just as good, but being humble would get him farther, he reckoned.

She wrinkled her nose up a little in a teasing sort of expression, still smiling, maybe a tiny bit flustered with the praise and attention.

"Thanks...I'm glad you liked it...I mean, that was a pretty good fight, my opponent was no push-over so...you know, good fight!" One could see the excitement talking about it in her eyes and hear it in her voice. "I like the ones you gotta work for, that aren't some kinda sure thing." She started, then realized she was rambling a bit.

"Yeah, okay. Let me try this." She looked to the dessert, taking a generous mouthful, chewing a few times as her expression lit up again. She could barely make it to swallowing before looking up at him. "Did you make this? This...this is really, *really* good. I mean, everything here has been good...but this...holy crap!"

He chuckled and nodded, smacking his fist into his other hand, "Yeah! She was a real bruiser." He smirked, "no match for you though, damn." He could tell that this meant a lot to her, it was refreshing to see someone so alive and passionate about what they did, especially when it was something as taxing and rough as this. He was a bit surprised by just how sleek and...Well...Girly she was, it was unexpected from a woman who had just the night before knocked someone's head off. It was fairly endearing.

His own eyes lit up a bit when she seemed to enjoy it, nodding, "Yeah? I-I mean yeah, I made it!" He ran a hand through his hair and chuckled, "desserts are my specialty, but I can do just about anything." He gave a soft psh and rolled his eyes a little, "a lot of the chefs here don't add that extra decorative flair, I call that quitter's talk." He smiled, "I'm really glad you like it, s'nice to hear."

Her eyes flickered up and around the room, before coming back to him. "This is a fancy place. You can't just slap a piece of cake on a plate and call it good...presentation is *everything*." She said a touch dramatically.

She ate another bite, taking her time and obviously enjoying it. "Seriously, this is what you should do. I've eaten a lot of dessert in my time...and yes. This."

She realized she probably sounded like she was going overboard fussing over it, but it was really that good, and she liked the way his expression lit up at the compliment...people here were kind of assholes, she'd realized, and she wondered how many people took the time to actually say nice things, instead of just bitching about the minor things they didn't like. She liked to spread a little bit of being positive wherever she could.

He gestured with his hands and nodded, looking exasperated, "that's what I tried to tellem'!" He looked deeply offended by the lack of care from the other chefs, "I swear the kitchen is filled with monkeys and I'm the only zookeeper." There was a tone of dry sarcasm in his voice, but a small hint of humor sparked in his eyes despite the blunt tone of voice.

He gave a soft laugh and waved a hand, c'mon now you're just buttering me up for a freebie." He gave her a playful glance, chuckling softly, "I've been going to school for a few years now for it, coming to work here was a dream come true." His voice was slightly tight and emotional as he said this, he didn't get emotional often, but when he considered where he'd started to where he was now, it was an accomplishment that he felt justified in getting emotional about.

He chuckled softly and ran a hand through his hair, "it's nice to get word of a job well done. People don't send their compliments to the chef as often as the TV'll make you think they do." He chuffed softly and rolled his eyes, "mostly just call me out to bitch about some small detail..." He shrugged, "s'just nice to hear some positive once in a while."

She blinked at the comment about monkeys, then started to laugh, shaking her head slightly. "You. I like you." She gave him an incredibly amused look at the thought it had put in her head.

She couldn't help but roll her eyes a little when he talked about people not often giving compliments. "Because people are assholes." She lowered her voice slightly, she was in a nice place after all. "Who don't appreciate having nice things. They should compliment you...all of you...much more. This place is great."

She took a moment to rummage in her purse, sliding a card across the table to him. "So, check it out. A bunch of us are going over to VooDoo at the Rio later...don't know when you get off, but hey, if you feel like hanging out...come by and flash 'em this."

She didn't normally do that sort of thing, but there was something about this guy she liked, and she was pretty sure her friends would like too. And if worse came to worse...he'd get kicked out of the club and that'd be the end of it, not like she was giving him her home address or anything.

He turned an amused grin her way, giving a small bow and chuckling softly, "glad to provide comedic entertainment on top of good dessert, ma'am." He winked and straightened up, fussing at his uniform so that it looked a bit less ruffled and more presentable.

"weeell." He laughed softly, "maybe not all of us...Like...Bless his heart...But Jerry can't cook a salmon steak to save his life." He ran a hand through his hair, "I slapped him but good for his abysmal attempt." He smirked, to show that he was mostly joking, though he had indeed smacked the back of the man's head when he damn near let a waiter carry out a raw dish. He knew he wasn't perfect, but there was just no excuse for laziness.

He looked surprised at her invitation, taking the card and getting a half smile, "well hey, if they let me free early enough I might have to catch you there." He glanced back, "speaking of...I guess I should get back there." He mocked a deeply concerned face, "I shudder to think what horrors they're committing without me...Monkeys at the zoo and all..." He turned his gaze back to her and winked again, "so see you later maybe?"

She was laughing again as he continued, shaking her head slightly at him. "It sounds like fun. And also kind of annoying...I'll make sure if I order fish...to say that Jerry is not allowed to cook it!"

She smiled when he took the card and said he might come around later...it was 50/50 on if he would, but the offer had been amde at least.

"Go! Go!" She waved him on. "Go see to your crazy monkeys, go see who needs to be slapped up the side of teh head!" She continued to laugh, amused as she watched him turn to go before turning back to her dessert. She'd need to come back here just for dessert if nothing else.

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He'd been glad to get out of his uniform for the night, to change into something more appropriate for a night on the town. Though he supposed he still didn't quite look ready for the town, he didn't go out like this very often, and his best attempt was fancy trashcan at best. He knew he'd stick out like a sore thumb among her and her friends, he just hoped that humor she'd loved carried over and he didn't make an ass of himself. He was good at doing that.

If he was being honest, he's wanted to crash into bed more than he'd wanted to go out pretending like he knew how to socialize, but Wolfe had insisted that this would be good for him, and he was usually right about these things, so he'd decided to put on his going out clothes and go for it.

He squinted as the place came into view, silently steeling himself up for what was sure to be an awkward as hell experience as he parked and stepped out, trotting up to the door. When the man at the door held out a hand to stop him, he fished the card out and showed it to him. The man looked a little dubious, but let him back through the place to a small room. Grayson had never been shown to the VIP room in any place, and looked around a little lost as he was let inside.

The place was lit in neon and blacklights, filled with scantily dressed people drinking, dancing to loud pulsing music.

The music was slightly less loud in the private room but the space still overlooked the rest of teh club and the city stretched below them. Zara was amid a cluster of men and women, but picked him out as he entered, waving him over with that same bright smile flashing into place.

"Hi! Grayson, over here!" She called. "I'm glad you could come...drink, snack, dance song request?" She laughed.

"Hey everyone, this is the guy I mentioned might come...he seems fun and like the sort that could hang." The group seemed to be made up of various fancy sorts, and a few that looked like they were also on teh fight circuit, he was met with acknowledging nods and greetings, they all seemed accepting of the newcomer joining them, Zara was fairly well liked, if she thought someone could be here, that was enough for them.

He'd only been here five minutes and he already felt overwhelmed and overstimulated by all the hammering music and half naked people pushing around him, but he kept his confidence on his face as well as he could manage as he was led up to the VIP room, glad for the slight lull in the music and the noise, the lights were less blinding too, and he felt more like maybe he could manage this being in the smaller room with less people.

He made his way to where Zara was sitting with her group of friends, glancing over each of them in turn and realizing very quickly that he stood out even worse than he'd originally thought. He didn't belong here, he knew it, he was sure they knew it, "Hey." He sat to her left with his best attempt at a smile that wasn't terrified to be there and looked between them, "Oh uh I...Actually...A drink sounds really nice." He usually avoided alcohol like the plague, it never did well on his often overly sensitive internals, but he was nervous as hell, and what could one hurt anyway?

He glanced over at Zara with a crooked half-smile, "don't sell me too big. I ain't all that fucking great..." There was a legitimate warning in his tone behind the playful hint, he figured they'd kick him out once the realized he wasn't a party boy, but he supposed he could enjoy feeling like a normal person with friends while it lasted.