#bc this rlly had the juices flowing in my brain in setting up the scene even if the descriptions could be wack

[vincassidy]

STARTER FOR » @joliedebeauvoir​

WHEN: Friday, Nov. 22 at 7 p.m.

WHERE: Zinqué

This was no longer a French bistro; it was a dimly lit circus. 

That is, if a circus transformed into a restaurant with a flirty ambience. He kind of liked it.

No rainbow wig, big red shoe wearing clowns in sight so it wasn’t full circus; however, the round and rectangular tables normally adorned with small condiments, glossy fold-up drink menus, utensils, and a tiny potted plant in the center were now arranged in 4x3 lines bearing square curtains to section people off into little cubicles. There were balloons, and lots of them—paired with brightly colored paper streamers, not that he could actually see the vivid color in this lighting. As explained by the host at the entrance door, the women were to remain in their respective chair as the men would move to the next date. Move, as in, roll on a black padded stool with wheels. Apparently, the majority of women were already seated as to not be known straight away. Each date would go on for ten minutes before a double chime signaled its time for rotation. People were able to see just enough to navigate through the place, but not enough to sincerely distinguish faces. The whole scenario screamed mystery, to which Vince silently chuckled to himself as he recalled a moment. ‘I’m not going to even try to decode it. It would probably ruin the curiosity,’ she had said. ‘Ruin the curiosity—you dig the enigma? I need to get to the bottom of it,’ he had replied. Miniature desk lights were at everyone’s station with a pen and a tiny spiral notebook, which was supposed to travel along and serve as a written ice breaker as people put down a greeting, a question, whatever was hoped to serve as a first impression, and then each pairing would exchange their mini notebooks under the curtain to write a reply back before simultaneously pulling the three foot long curtain rope to reveal their date after a single chime. That made three minutes of secrecy, seven minutes of face to face interaction, then the page would be turned to the next blank one, along with a new person to meet. The environment itself wasn’t as silly as a circus, but Vince admittedly felt a tad silly for being present for the sole reason that he didn’t go to these things... in fact, he never thought about going to these things. 

That is, until he met her.

In the past few months of knowing Jolie, he found himself doing more. The male had been a natural risk taker when it came to matters concerning his job, except he couldn’t deny that she prompted him to be open with more opportunities he hadn’t thought of. A friendship presented light, excitement, thrilling challenges. It was fresh, real. When she had invited him to this speed dating experience to set him up, he initially was going to laugh it off with a ‘Nah, what? Nah,’ and quite shocked as it was something not of his usual interest, but he appreciated the considerate thought and in all honesty, it was too good of a suggestion to pass up. Since she was the one to play matchmaker he figured he better send a quick text informing of his arrival. The glow of his iPhone illuminated his face as he opened his messages, and while he was attempting to type, it was interrupted by a young male clearing his throat followed by a finger pointing to a nearby sign on the wall: 

PLEASE TURN PHONES OFF DURING THE MATCHING PROCESS. THANK YOU.

“It’ll be just a second,” Vince said. “Bro, it’s the rules,” answered the same young man, who had to be around his mid-twenties. Who let this dude volunteer at this speed dating shebang? As a person familiar with the law, rules, regulations, and doing things for justice and fairness, Vince was going to eventually abide by the no cell phone rule. The time wasn’t 7 p.m. yet, the rule didn’t have to apply immediately.

iMessage to Jolie (6:48 p.m.) : I made it here, Cupid de Beauvoir. 

“Bro, I don’t make the rules, I jus—” “—enforce them. Right,” Vince retorted, shutting off his phone before putting it into his pocket.  He sauntered into the circus, but not a circus, restaurant with no expectations. Just taking a chance. Trying something new. The first couple three rounds were... fine? Date #1 wrote him a riddle to which he couldn’t figure out on the spot in those three mysterious minutes, and when she revealed her face she bursted in a laugh and told him the answer. It turned out to be less funny and more offensive, which was an instant turn-off. Date #2 slid a simple ‘Hello, I can’t see you yet, but you look wonderful’ note under the curtain. Date #3 wrote, ‘please don’t be another loser I just saw my ex lol.’

For the last three encounters, Vince made a doodle of a cartoon dog. It wasn’t giving away his penmanship off the bat in case someone were to recognize him, and it wasn’t like keeping his identity a secret had been necessary anyway, considering his face would be revealed at every station. People spoke delicately amongst each other, probably in an effort to keep with the mystery and prevent surrounding ears from getting an idea of someone before having an encounter. Even with the calm, quiet voices, he could have sworn he heard Jolie’s from another corner of the room. He could make out the sound of her voice anywhere. Was she here? A detail he never got confirmation of because he didn’t know whether she was able to reply to his text or not, thanks to the rule. Was she supposed to set him up for this thing and let him stick it out as she chilled at home? What if she was watching him from the side, observing her matchmaker magic? Watching from a control room? Or was she not actually here, come to think of it, she did tell him to tell her about the outcome, which implied she wouldn’t be present. Was he just thinking of her in a room full of eligible singles? 

On to the next one, Date #4, he rolled across to the next column of tables, deciding to switch it up. The energy of Zinqué in that moment inspired him to get a little more creative. He kept drawing the same dog, but this time he wrote a question underneath the drawing, before slipping it under the curtain: If I were to meet an angel in this place, and we only have seven minutes, does that make this a game of seven minutes in heaven?