#oftatteredwings.

"look, i know we both said that we weren't going to talk about work this evening... at my own request but you know, i'd actually quite like to try composing for a theatre production, when the writer's strike is somewhat resolved or if you have any up and coming playwrights that are looking." claire picked up her drink and took a sip. "i know it seems that i'm somewhat obsessive as of late-" that had always been the case when it came to claire "-but a lot's changing and i'd really like to give it a shot." she paused for a moment, eyes widening. "not that i brought you to dinner for a sales pitch because i didn't, i'm just quite bad at cooking. i can pay for it."

"excuse me." the woman hated bringing attention to herself, especially when it came to servers as she was worried about being perceived in a certain way. claire beaudelaire mcclain was well-renowned for what she did but kept everything private so felt like celebrity was a stretch despite her accolades. "i'm pretty sure that person just left with my order because i did not order a-" she pointed to the drink that looked to have whipped cream on it. "-that. i didn't order that."