Elliot chuckled. “No, starlets don’t really have any sway with me, Mr. Nightingale. I’m more attracted to the brainy types. The kind who know how to keep a man on his toes, if you know what I mean,” the surgeon admitted.
He followed Sam to the elevators, listening to the blond heir talk. It was no wonder the Nightingale family was at the very top echelons of society – they certainly had a way with words.
“What would I like…” Elliot repeated the question slowly, thinking it over. “It’s been a while since I’ve eaten anything but leftovers at home, but I’m told that, psychologically, the second option someone gives is the option they want themselves. So let’s go with Greek. I’m quite partial to pastitsio, after all.”
The doors of the elevator let the two men out on the ground floor of the GeneCo building, and Elliot let Sam step out first to lead the way.
“So where is this place? Walking distance, or…?” Elliot knew it was a stupid thing to ask as soon as it came out of his mouth. Walking distance. Ha. That was not a phrase that people like Sam Nightingale ever said, he guessed. There was probably a car waiting for them just outside.
“Good choice.” He couldn’t help but feel relief at the choice. Sam had been craving a well-made gyro all morning. “But I’m afraid it’s a bit out of the way. A friend of mine owns a hole-in-the-wall restaurant on the other side of town... and I don’t fancy walking that far in these shoes.”
He proceeded to poke a bit of fun at Elliot, a grin forming on his lips as he flirted. It was getting hard for Sam not to grin whilst around the surgeon. “Looks like you’ll just have to get used to being chauffeured around, Baldwin.”
Sam opened the glass door to the front of the building, holding it to let Elliot pass through. He let his eyes linger over the other man’s back as he passed before drifting downwards just a bit. It wasn’t a long look, but it wasn’t a short glance either. And he didn’t exactly avert his eyes all too quickly when the surgeon turned around. So what if he was eyeing his employee? Elliot didn’t seem to mind all that much. In fact, it seemed more like a game forming between the two of them -- a cat and mouse strategy where neither of them knew which role they were supposed to be playing yet.
All Sam knew was that at this point, he really shouldn’t touch. Although... that was more of a guideline than a hard rule.
They approached the black car parked at the curb and Sam’s driver opened the door for them to enter. “We’re going over to Fifteenth Street,” he told the man before taking initiative and leading Elliot into the backseat of the car.
Sliding over and stretching out, Sam pulled his phone from his jacket pocket to send a quick text to the owner of the restaurant they were headed to. Once finished, he replaced it and turned to Elliot, watching his reaction to the situation carefully. He didn’t know much about him aside from what he’d been told by the man himself and what had been unearthed in his background check. Deducing it was always Sam’s favorite part, though, and he found himself absolutely fascinated by the brunette.
“Tell me about yourself, Elliot,” Sam prompted, leaning back in his seat, legs falling open just the slightest touch as he relaxed. “Did you grow up here? What branch of surgery did you do?” He asked the questions almost rapid-fire, curious to hear the answers to them. “I’m sure you’ve got a whole host of interesting stories living up in that brain of yours.”
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