A/N: Chapter 7! W00T! Only note for this chapter is that italicized letters = Maka texting and bold italicized is Soul texting/signing. Any regular speech will be treated the same as ever
The cab ride to their destination was relatively short, thankfully. Perhaps ten minutes or so. Truth be told, Maka actually felt at ease around Soul, but her inquisitive nature got the best of her. She poked and prodded him through texts, asking where they were going. He only smiled and shook his head, offering the simple response that he was sure she'd enjoy herself.
Upon their arrival, Soul deftly exited the cab and made his way around to Maka's door, offering his hand to help her out. She couldn't help but blush. The last time she'd had a man treat her in such a gracious manner had been…well, never. It just didn't seem to occur to the opposite sex that while equality was a wonderful thing, sometimes a little old fashioned gentility was desired and appreciated.
Red eyes perused her form once more before he lead the curious blonde into a small alleyway. Maka grew momentarily dubious, eyeing him warily before he gave a gentle smile and tugged at the sleeve of her jacket. His eyes were soft, his body relaxed, and she followed his lead with the realization that if he had wanted to harm her, he could have done so long before now.
Hidden away within a small alcove of the alley wall was an oak door, and Soul knocked on it twice. A slat in the top section slid open and Maka heard a gruff voice ask for a password. She nearly laughed, it was so absurd! Was he taking her to a speakeasy? Was this 1920's Chicago? She chuckled lightly to herself and watch as Soul pulled out one of his com cards.
There was a grunt and a slight clack as the eye port was closed, followed by a creak and a groan as the heavy door was pulled open. A gust of warm air hit Maka in the face forcing a surprised gasp from her lips and she walked forward on slightly wobbly legs as Soul lead her inside.
The door slowly closed behind the two of them, the lighting set up in such a way that the corridor was in almost complete darkness. Maka jumped and lightly fell into Soul when a voice wafted from the shadows.
"We bid you good evening and welcome to The Black Room."
Her pale face turned to scan the darkness, but her eyes found nothing and she was forced to continue her way forward with her partner who showed no concern at all with their surroundings. The lighting brightened only moderately as they made their way down the hall, and it opened into a room with a red and black checkered floor. Thick velvet drapes of deep crimson hung behind a low stage and the entirety of the seating was comprised of five or six booths along the walls with two round tables set in front of a couple speakers.
This place, whatever it was, was obviously exclusive, and Maka felt out of place. Soul shared none of her concern, his large hand closing around hers as he lead her to a booth. His phone was immediately retrieved from his trench coat pocket once he had taken Maka's coat and settled himself opposite her. The device was held up a little, wiggled, and then he gestured at her lightly, eyebrows raised.
It was only their second date, but Maka was already glad she had picked up on the small hints that Soul gave. He was very consistent, and thus, relatively easy to read. Reaching into her clutch she pulled out her own phone and mirrored his earlier gesture with a smile before her nimble fingers skipped over the keyboard. Less than two minutes into being seated and Maka was already asking questions. She didn't waste any time.
What is this place?
The Black Room ;)
Ha. Ha ha. Ha. But seriously, where are we?
It's a small club I frequent. Good food, good jazz music, good time.
Maka sat up abruptly, studying the man across from her. She was feeling suddenly nervous, unsure what to do with herself in such an atmosphere. Jazz wasn't really her thing. Music wasn't her thing. She liked it, like most people did, but she didn't particularly understand it. She found jazz particularly elusive to comprehend as she felt there was no real structure to it. Jazz was a very grey area of music in Maka's simple world of black, white, and trance fusion.
Her attention was drawn back to Soul as he gently nudged her ankle with his foot, a half smile upon his face as he texted her.
Something wrong?
She shook her head lightly before she responded to him, wishing it were brighter in the room so she could speak to him verbally. The disconnect between them when they had to speak through machinery was frustrating and she didn't care for the loss she felt when she couldn't look directly at him.
Music isn't really my thing. I don't understand it.
Soul chuckled a little as he read her reply. Maka blushed, embarrassed at having to admit that she didn't understand something.
It's not about understanding, really. Just feeling.
I don't really understand that, either.
That's ok. I'll teach you. I'm a patient man.
Maka inhaled sharply, eyes flicking upwards to look into Soul's shadowed eyes. His entire countenance oozed confidence and he appeared incredibly serene. It was as if nothing in the world could bother him. The only person that held his attention was sitting in front of him, trying desperately to figure him out. She had a long wait ahead of her, but it was apparent she didn't mind.
Raising a hand to run his fingers through his hair, he exhaled softly before tapping a button embedded in the wall. The duo was promptly made a trio as a surprisingly squat man with pinched features and abnormally large eyes arrived at their table. He was balding, and his arms seemed strangely long for his frame with his legs appearing abnormally short. A large nose protruded from betwixt the nose pads of a black pair of spectacles.
He looked more like a Goblin than a man.
"Ahhh," came a low voice, almost hissed. "Good evening Soul. I see you brought company with you tonight." Awkward hands signed as he spoke.
Good evening Oni. Soul grinned devilishly as he signed, as if to try and out-demon the little goblin man. Indeed, I did bring company. A menu for the lady, please.
Maka watched the exchange silently, continually fascinated by the way hands artfully or awkwardly positioned themselves. The idea that this was a form of speech both boggled her mind and intrigued her.
"As you wish, Master Soul," the man called Oni replied, a snide sneer on his lips. "The usual for you then?"
Soul offered a single nod, clearly finished with their conversation.
Turning to Maka, Oni offered a slight bow as he inquired of her, "A drink for the lady?"
It took her a moment to regain her faculties, as between being awestruck by sign language and confounded by the physical appearance of their waiter, she had forgotten his purpose entirely. Blinking away the cloudiness that plagued her mind, she offered him a small smile and requested a glass of Cabernet.
Taking another short bow the little ogre scurried off into the shadows, and Maka was once again left with her alabaster demon.
