margo harris

Sanchit blinked. “I wished someone would set me up on a blind date!” they suggested in return, having watched the exchange with some amusement. Wondering often if people really thought sparks would suddenly start flying. Well… they wanted sparks to start flying. So maybe they still believed in the possibilities - maybe they watched too many romantic movies and real life was just disappointing. “I mean… I’d probably be failing one way or another, but…” they turned back to the door where her blind date had disappeared. “I’d tap that.”

“No, no you do not.” She told them with a scowl and a shake of her head. Was her lamentation of her evening not enough of a warning? Margo was a realist in most aspects of her life- by necessity, not by choice- and while her expectations hadn’t been high, she wanted... well, more. She knew that was wishful thinking. “If you expect failure, then failure is what you’re going to get. Honestly, you can them if you want.” Margo said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “No love lost, I promise. In fact, I could pass on your number?” The question was meant as a joke, but even she wouldn’t subject a stranger to that mess. She held out her hand and smiled at them. “I’m Margo.”

          Perhaps it was being a bar owner and the amount of nights she spent amongst the crowd, maybe it was being a woman and knowing the experience all too well, but the brunette knew an uncomfortable date when she saw one. Despite that, Lena minded her own business, she’d wrapped up some paperwork in the back and following the call she’d taken from her brother, a drink had been needed to calm the unease that rose to the surface. If something went south though she was close enough to step in, and thankfully the male was off without much fuss.

          “Oh, I know better than that. Not by experience but I’ve seen too much in my years.” A smile curved her lips and Lena nodded to the bartender for a refill of her manhattan. “I feel we should get you something stronger than a glass of wine for enduring that. On the house.”

Margo wished she had known better. Curiosity killed the cat, so they said, but the last bit that was usually left unsaid didn’t quite resonate her. She was far from satisfied and despite her previous words, she would not be going back for seconds with that guy. A smile stretched on her face, and she nodded at her offer. “Please.” She retorted, tipping back her wine glass to finish the rest of it’s contents in one go. Her eyes watered at the tart taste on her tongue. Wine was lovely, but certainly a liquor would wash away the taste of disappointment. “So, do you work here? Manager or something?” She wondered. 

Lincoln honestly understood the frustration coming from her, too many times had he been set up on failed, awkward dates over the years that making excuses and avoiding them had more or less become the norm. After nearly being married at one point in his life and that even not working out in the long run, he didn’t quite grasp if anyone could blame him for it. “You’re welcome. I got to hand to you for sticking through it.” He gave her an earnest nod. “And I sure will take your recommendation.” Lincoln let out a light laugh, wincing slightly as she continued to describe her date in detail. “Wow, ok. So I really don’t get why you think it did go so bad then.” He blatantly stated in jest.

Margo snorted into her wine glass, giving her new companion a dull look. “I know, right? I should be lucky I had a date at all.” She finished off by matching his sarcasm, rolling her eyes for good measure. “My friend thinks I’m lonely. I’m not, but that’s what she thinks.” She didn’t want to confirm outload that she was, in fact, a bit lonely. She had worked tirelessly for the past few years, trying to fill the large, empty shoes that her father left behind. Her career had become her life and her social life had dissolved to lunches and dinners with potential clients. That didn’t mean she wanted to be forced to sit in front of some lowlife while he regaled her with how amazing he was. “Frankly, I’d be happier sitting at him with a bottle of whatever this wine is.” She said, turning her glass to peer at the dark red liquid.

—

Getting a front row seat to someone else’s date was surely not what Gabriel expected to do with his evening, but it had given him something to focus on, instead of his overwhelming desire to order something other than a Coke. He had taken a chance on going to a bar, because they were certainly better places to meet people than libraries or coffee shops, but temptation had sweat beading along his forehead. Until he began harmlessly listening, okay, eavesdropping on the ‘date’ unfolding to his left. By the time the man departed, Gabriel felt free to chuckle, albeit quietly, especially as the woman remained and he understood her French enough to know she was ordering a glass of wine for herself. But then she spoke to him, and his chuckle grew to a full-on laugh. “I’ll do you one better. I don’t date at all.”

Her eyebrow kicked up curiously. "Like... At all?" Margo hadn't actually considered the idea that she didn't have to date. When people offered to set her up, she usually found an excuse. No need to burn bridges over something so frivolous, but just saying no... That was a thought. "Well... Good for you." She said with a shrug. "Really, dating is awful. You saw the highlights." She made a face, taking a generous sip of her wine. Wine made her chatty, she noted to herself with complete self awareness. Normally, she didn't talk this much. "I should try that. Not dating."

✧･ﾟ* ☾

Lida sensed right off the bat that Duke had such IMPECCABLE timing. It could have resulted into a little or big accident if she hadn’t been so quick to stop him from colliding with the woman in front of them. The skeptic look on the other’s face was enough for Lida to know that this may be one of those encounters where she might have to be extra apologetic to get others off her back, even though she didn’t want to. However, she had to be mindful of her actions since the last thing she wanted was for such news to go straight to her parents. “Again, apologies for that.” she repeated with a sincere tone. “He’s aware of when to stop at least. I suppose he got a little too excited, especially since it’s a new scenery for him.” 

Margo cocked her brow and looked down at the little dog, a skeptic air to her gaze. She wasn’t he was aware of when to stop, but she had enough decorum not to say it out loud. “It’s fine.” She said, finally, waving the woman off with a quick swish of her wrist. It wasn’t as if Margo would hold anything against a dog, definitely not when she was dressed in sweats and simple gym shoes. No harm no foul. “Honestly, don’t worry about it. He should just count himself lucky that he’s cute.” She said, pushing a well-practiced polite smile to her face. 

.

Georgie held her glass up for the woman next to her as in a salut manner to her words as they were. “Any deal that allows me to drink the double for the price of one? It’s one to go.” The brunette snorted taking a sip of her drink. “Well, it depends if your aim is to get drunk on wine or just a good time, because that will definitely inflict on how much wine you’ll be needing tonight.” Georgie couldn’t help but notice that much like herself, the other was sitting alone in a bar and talking to a complete stranger when she could be there enjoying the day with someone else like the majority of people in the town were doing. “I might be taking on a very wild guess here, but not a big fan of the day too?”

.

She smiled, reaching forward to clink the woman’s glass with her own in agreement. “Here, here.” She toasted, taking a rather generous gulp. The heavy taste on her tongue soothed any thoughts of lamenting she might have had before. Because Margo didn’t lament about anything to anyone. That was perfectly preserved for the confines of privacy. “Well... isn’t getting drunk a good time?” Margo offered, shrugging her shoulders, deciding that either way, she needed something to take the edge off.

She hummed at the question. “Not so much that I’m not a fan, just never really found a reason to celebrate.” She glanced around, gesturing lightly at the festivities around them. “I mean, who doesn’t love romance? What about you?”

-

The awkward date going on at the table next to him had been hard to watch. Caoimhín had needed a pint for a while now, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away from the car crash that was happening. The woman was beautiful, familiar, but beautiful and the guy was a complete narcissist who only knew how to talk about himself. When he eventually left, the young man couldn’t help but look over at her, a look of shock and empathy on his features. “Where the hell did they find him?” He asked, voice a pitch higher than normal from the surprise of the other man’s behaviour. “I apologise on behalf of all men for that pricks carry on.”

“Not sure. Though I think when I found out, I won’t be surprised.” Margo told him with a scoff. What had her father always told her? When people show you who they are, believe them. She idly tapped the skinny stem of her wine glass with her nail, a heavy sigh heaving it’s way through her chest. “Why are you apologizing? It’s not your fault he’s clueless and rude.” She paused as she started to take a sip, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Unless you’re allso clueless and rude, in which case, I’ve kind of had my fill.”

A day of shopping led Serina to an evening of indulgence. Sitting right at the bar was a rarity for her, but it seemed she was safe to blend into the crowd that filled up Le Comptoir’s space. She had just been reading up on the tapas menu when the woman popped up beside her, ordering a pinot grigio with haste. Eyebrow had raised up until she’d heard the reasoning along with the warning that she should heed and she couldn’t help but giggle. “But if we feared going to things due to failure, how would we ever learn?” Serina bantered back, though looked back to the bartender before she said, “Pour another glass, keep it cold.” She looked back to the woman, “That one will be on me, I’m sorry you had a bad experience, which red flag did they possess?” 

Margo snorted, a smile akin to exasperation and interest splitting across her face. “I guess you’re right about that. Touché.” She had personally never truly feared doing anything, her parents would never allow such a thing. Whatever she set her mind to, she did, and she did it well., Though most of her motivation was  because she feared her parents’ disappointment. That outweighed whatever superficial fear that she might have entertained. The woman took the glass the bartender offered at the other’s request, raising it slightly. “Thank you.” She said, quickly taking a sip. She sighed heavily, her jaw fixed tightly as she recounted the details of her date. “I think it would be easier to tell you what red flags they didn’t have. Obliviousness is definitely top five though.”

Despite a co-worker bailing, Lincoln still took it upon himself to make a stop at Le Comptoir before heading back to Palais-Bourbon to retire for the evening. It had been a rather long day at work in the 10th arrondissement, and as much as he truly did enjoy his job, there were prominent instances where breaks were much needed. Right now, being one of those times. Once approaching the counter inside the establishment, Lincoln took a seat on one of the stools, and before he could even begin to look for the bartender, he heard a female voice urgently ask for a Pinot. “You can take hers first.” Lincoln insisted, a light laugh emitting at a following remark. “Merci for the advice, but trust me, I avoid it as much as I can.” He shook his head. “— DIdn’t go well, I take it?”  He asked, despite that being evident.

She shot the man a grateful, if not a little forced, smile, sliding into the seat beside him as she waited for her drink. Her “date” had effectively ruined her mood, souring what little patience and politeness she possessed. “Thank you.” Margo said to him with a small sigh, watching the bartender pour her drink in front of her. “Good, you should. In fact, I recommend it.”  Her lips pursed, a small grimace rising to her face at his words. “No, no it went great. Between him ordering for me, trying to re-explain my job so that I would have a better understanding, and only managing to talk about himself the entirety of the conversation? The guy was multitalented, what’s not to like?”

          Marcel had been in a remedial funk as of late, a sense of life repeating itself become near noxious as he carried on with a near quotidian and mundane routine. He had resided here for several years now and despite the perpetual flow of tourists to keep things more sprightly, Marcel was consistent at clocking in to close to eighty hours per work week and he was close to a vexing bout of execrable burnout. With that, a smidgen of small talk with a stranger was welcomed, a grin jumping upon olive mien, “My mother would jump at the opportunity to set me up in a blind marriage if given the chance. Unfortunately for her I’m married to my work, it seems.” 

In a way, Margo was also married to her work. From sun up to sundown, it was unusual to find her not working. Lunches were usually business meetings, dinners were spent schmoozing potential clients, and when she wasn’t answering emails or calls, she was going over the dozen reports that had piled up on her desk. Perhaps that was why her assistant seemed adamant in setting her up with someone. “Your poor mother.” She drawled sympathetically after the glass of wine was sat in front of her. She quickly swopped it into her hand and took a healthy sip, sighing in relief. “At least work won’t leave. Or talk. Or plague you with their little insecurities.” Margo made a face. “Honestly, I think you might be on to something.”

—

Micayla bristles at the affectionate name Margo used for their father. Once again, the painful reality that Micayla had never had that kind of relationship with the man who raised them, if you could call it that in Micayla’s case, was blatantly obvious. “That’s for sure.” she bites out, trying desperately to keep the wound that has never really healed in her 33 years of life, from opening up and dragging her back into that dark place of insecurity and doubting her worth. “If there was one thing he taught me, it was that sentimentality isn’t something you should waste your time on.” The bitterness she still felt towards how he made her feel all those years very easily seeped into her words. It was clear that he had never shown any sentimentality towards his youngest daughter. 

Despite the obvious conflict between the two, it sometimes took Micayla by surprise how similar they still were. Their similar love for books a small reminder that they were in fact sisters with a whole part of their lives as shared history. Micayla slid her hands down her back, honestly just looking for something to do at this point. 

“Business has been good.” she responds, nodding a head a bit as if that’s actually what Margo asked about. She’s unable to force herself to talk about her personal life with someone she’s known her whole life yet still feels so uncomfortable with. But then her older sister is apologizing and Micayla is torn between wanting to let Margo know exactly how she felt about not only the radio silence from her sibling - not that she would have reciprocated any communication, anyways - but her moving to Paris as well, and just about their relationship in general. But the Harris sisters didn’t only share their love of books, they also shared their need to at least appear like they had everything together. And Micayla wasn’t about to go into all that here, surrounded by hundreds of strangers. Instead, all she offered was a simple, “Yeah, I suppose we’ve both had pretty hectic lives since coming to Paris…” her voice trailed off, leaving room for the fact that there was so much more either one of them could have said in that moment. 

The edge in Micayla’s voice wasn’t lost on Margo, and if she was being honest, she didn’t blame her sister for her feelings. Their father pushed the both of them in opposite directions in order to craft the future he so desperately wanted. Margo wondered, for a moment, if he knew just how much damage he would leave in his wake. She wondered if he knew that he was crumbling whatever relationship his daughters might have had with one another. If only Margo had the words to tell Micayla she wished things were different. That she wished she had never been the ‘golden child’, with all those expectations crushing down on her. 

The only thing she could do was blink at her sister. “Come on, Mic.” She said with a heavy sigh, rolling her eyes slightly in exasperation, instead of lamenting with her sister’s opinion like she should have. “Don’t be like that. Can we have one pleasant conversation, please?” That was, perhaps, asking a lot, but perhaps she had something to do with that as well. Margo and pleasant weren’t exactly always synonymous.

“Maybe we can do this again sometime?” Margo blinked at him for a moment before she remembered to respond, pushing a smile on to her face. Be nice, Margo, be nice. “Maybe, that’s definitely an idea.” She shot back to the man as he put his jacket on, not making a single effort to follow him. With an awkward wave, he was off, and all niceties and gestures of politeness melted off her expression. She turned to the bartender, tapping her fingers impatiently. “S'il vous plaît! J'ai besoin d'un verre de Pinot Grigio aussi vite que possible. {Please! I need a glass of Pinot Grigio as fast as you can pour.]” She leaned forward on the bar with a heavy sight, only briefly turning her gaze to the person sitting beside her. “Never let someone set you up on a blind date. It’s setting yourself up for failure.”

—

Gathering herself, Micayla froze upon hearing the biting voice of none other than her older sister. She closed her eyes briefly as she inwardly sighed. This was not a good way to run into her sister of all people. The youngest Harris thrived in environments where she was in control. Seeing her sister was enough of a wild card as it was, let alone seeing her when she was utterly unprepared for the interaction. “I mean, I live here just as much as you do, don’t I?” she couldn’t help but retort back. After all, just because Margo had already chased her from one country, didn’t mean Micayla had to let her do it again. She paused, folding her arms over her chest as she glanced around them, noticing the stupid puppy who had caused this run in was happily trotting away with its’ owner. She couldn’t believe she was jealous of a puppy. 

Deep down, she hated that this was how things were with Margo. There was a time where Margo was her favorite person in the whole entire world. Now, all she saw when she looked at her sister was pain over years and years of never measuring up. It was hard, but she didn’t want to cause a scene, didn’t want anyone who possibly knew her from Le Rouge, getting any idea about how her personal life was, so she let out another breath, forcing the iciness from her voice as much as she could when she asked. “So are you enjoying the festival?” She attempted to make small talk. It was a pathetic attempt, but at least it was one. 

She had to bite back the almost instantaneous urge to retort something smart back to her sister, but was quick to hold her tongue. They lived in the same city, but as far as either of them were concerned, they led separate lives. Margo felt a tug at her heartstrings, remembering that it was her fault that they were like this. She had been the distant one, not Mic. She was supposed to be her big sister, the person that she could rely on and Margo simply... wasn’t that. “You do.” Margo decided instead, pushing a polite smile on her face. “I just didn’t think this was your thing. Daddy didn’t raise us with a lot of sentimentality, you know.” She inwardly cringed. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea, bringing up their father in their first conversion in... hell, she didn’t even know how long.

Margo buried her hands in the pockets of her coat, feeling oddly exposed. She was the type of person who always held it together in public, since she was a firm believer in emotional breakdowns taking place in the privacy of one’s own home away from prying eyes. This seemed like an emotional situation, one that she didn’t want to be in with so many people surrounding them. But it wasn’t as if she had much of a choice. “I am.” She said with a nod, gesturing to the booth they were standing in front of. “I could never turn down a good book. Romance aside...” She said, shifting from one foot to the other. “What about you? How have you been?” Cringing once more, this time outwardly, she took in a breath and fixed a determined gaze on her sister. “I... I’m sorry I haven’t reached out since I moved here. Just with work and...” I didn’t think you’d want to see me.