While art is subjective, your hate for Stephen Vincent Strange was pure and simple. An arrogant, crude and tasteless man. One of close-minded thinking and a lack of creativity.
This was the type of person any artist like you would despise.
~~~
All...
He realised you were leading him down towards your studio from the hallway with rooms dedicated to heroes. Curiosity itched at his skin, lips twitching to ask, but didn't want to seem so bothered.
"I can hear your questions," you turn to him, back against the studio door. "I'm going to start off your part of the exhibition in a while, but I need to ask something of you," just as you push open the door, you see the lover's painting still unfinished. "I swear I'll fix you guys up," you tell them both.
"So what is it you need?" Stephen brought attention back to him.
"First, I need you to sign this contract saying that you knew I was doing these pieces," you hold out a piece of paper, "I will run ideas by you first, but overall, how they turn out will be a surprise. If you have any problems with them on exhibition day, just let me know,"
He read over the contract and fine print before putting his signature on the paper. "There, is that all?"
"That and I want you to have dinner with me," your wording was simple, a blunt tone to pair it.
However, it surprised him; he thought over the words before giving a very obvious look, "dinner?"
"Not a date, you moron," you say bluntly, "just because I know everyone else so well, it's just extra questions... whereas with you? I know close to nothing,"
"So, are we going to a bar?" He finally agrees after a bit of thought.
"You take me to your favourite places. Simple as that," you grab the empty sketchbook with his name, "I do my thing, you do your thing... maybe you'll become a little more tolerable,"
"Wouldn't that be a miracle?" He plays along.
~~~
Despite your insistence on it being nothing but a professional outing in the name of your exhibition, you had been rethinking every outfit in front of your closet.
Maybe this was a little too much? Was this too little? What about this? No, this could work... but wait, what about this?
That became your thoughts for the next hour before hearing a knock at your door. "L/n?" Strange calls out, "you ready?"
"Oh, yeah, give me a second," hurrying to grab whatever you could; your suit trousers and top would be enough for any occasion. "Why do I care what he thinks?"
Stephen stepped back just as the door handle rattled and twisted open. "Finally, let's g-" he took a moment, looking over what you wore and overall.
"Am I too dressed up?" You slide your shoes on.
"No, no, it's perfect," he avoids looking you in the eye, simply walking off, "come on, it's already 8:15,"
"What? We have a schedule?" You fix your shoes before nearly sprinting after.
"No, but you said 8, we should have left this damn tower at 8," he checks his watch.
You raise a brow, shrugging while taking mental notes. Once the New York air hit your skin, you realised you had forgotten your blazer. Groaning to signal him to stop, you point back to the tower, "Sorry to be more annoying, but I forgot my jacket,"
"Here," slides his own jacket off, placing it on your shoulders, "I said we don't exactly have a schedule, but I also don't have all night,"
Pulling the fabric closer around you, you had to hurry to catch up when he didn't stop walking. "Wow, aren't you a joy to go out with,"
~~~
You half expected a fancy dinner, expensive wine and maybe even something with doves. But no, Strange had taken you to this food truck with the best ramen you had ever tasted. The aroma was a perfect blend of spices paired with the smooth taste of fresh noodles. Whether spicy or mild, the menu provided for every flavour palate.
"I'll admit, did not expect this," you watch the cars go by in front of the park.
"Ramen? Really? I love-"
"Something so down to earth," you explain, "sorry to get that idea from all the times we met before,"
He gave a gentle chuckle, "I'm still human... I may love the finer things in life, but that was before I realised how important the little things are," he held up his bowl, "like good ramen for a good price,"
"No doubt about that," you then stop and take a photo of the bowl in your lap, directing the camera to his. "I'm going to get a flyer. I'll be right back," the bowl was settled next to him before you took off.
It was hard for Stephen to admit he had started to enjoy himself; the gentle breeze along evening dew grass and pebbled paths rustling beneath his shoes reminded him of simpler times. Nights where he would wander the city, searching for peace of mind.
Yet, he hardly ever found it. There were the spots of pure delight such as this, a warm bowl of ramen, or he supposes a lovely sweet treat on a spring afternoon.
Sometimes, he even invited Donna to New York, taking her for that classic cheesecake, strawberry with flakes of coconut and a chocolate milkshake to pair with it. He always remembered her order for times when she was sick, hurt, or had a bad day.
Maybe he would take you there next... should he tell you why? You were persistent in knowing any backstory for the ramen.
"Okay, got it," you snap him out of thought, flailing two flyers in front of him. "You okay? You look all angsty and nostalgic like there was some deep angsty internal monologue playing in your head,"
"You're dramatic," he stands and gives you your bowl again. "Are you done with your food?"
Looking down at the half-empty bowl, you turn to quickly finish it up before tossing it in the bin and holding a thumbs up. One hand covered your mouth, his oversized jacket falling over your knuckles, the other giving him a thumbs up.
"Idiot," Stephen scoffs and walks away, hands in his pockets with no intention of waiting for you.
"Christ, glad you love my company," quickening your steps, street signs directed you both towards a more crowded set of venues. "Where to now, hm? Dessert?"
Maybe now wasn't the time. Stephen looked over his shoulder, watching you finally meet his side, "no, we're going for a drink,"
~~~
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