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This wasn't the first time that Evelyn had been to the Space Needle, although she was beginning to think that it was worth a fight to ensure that it was her last. It seemed as though each time she took a step within a certain radius of the darned thing, misfortune was hot on her heels, daring her to come closer and doing a fine job at warding her away. This time, along with every visit prior to it that she could remember (with notably less than fond memories) were marked by more than a few things colliding with the metaphorical fan and a generally sour mood only squeezing a nice squirt of lemon juice into a freshly received cut. Her very first visit to the odd structure having been an attempt on her parent's side to open her up more to the city with it's supposedly spectacular views. Even if she hadn't been completely closed to the idea of leaving home – home then, home now – and biting at anything that dared to try and tell her to think otherwise, she imagined, the towering building really wouldn't have done much to make her feel any better about the city and its rainy sights. If anything, to a small, suggestible mind, the idea of a UFO-like structure that served purposes she... still wasn't entirely certain of even now was more terrifying than exciting. Paired with the fit she'd pitched and the way they'd been promptly kicked off the premises for such unruly outbursts, and it certainly didn't leave the memory very high on her list of things worth remembering. There were times in between, she knew, but the latest stop here she could recall had been with her mother. Surprisingly, out of the bunch, it had seemed the most tame, second only to now, unless the day continued spiraling downward as it had been since stopping here. A nice walk, pleasant, if not trivial chatter – and then rain. Lots of it. Unexpected, yet enough to ruin a meal, then a set of clothes, and then an entire “girl's day out”. Come to think of it, she couldn't recall a time, excluding today, that her mother hadn't been present with her here. Oh, how she wished she was with her now. The sources of her problems every time before this had been out of the hands and in the hands of what must have been a terribly vengeful god (or, at least, one that enjoyed watching black-haired chefs suffer on a bi-monthly basis), but this one found itself standing apart in more ways than just the lack of either parental figure. She'd been wrong, specifically by another person, and had since been left to deal with her aggravation (and the strike to her already pitifully small ego) entirely by her lonesome in a place she despised. She'd have left immediately, really, had some bothersome part of her, deep down as it was, demanded that she stay around on the off chance that he ever bothered to show up. Realism had already dawned on the rest of her, though. She'd been stood up, the co-worker who'd insisted so heavily on taking her out for a date not even bothering to show up himself, and there wasn't a chance on Earth that he was going to show his smug face around here now.[break][break]

Another mental battle of tug of war over whether or not the pros outweighed the cons of staying here at this particular time (they really didn't) was avoided, however, by the sudden sight of a familiar face across the way. Her attention had been initially caught by the sight of two love birds doing as love birds do – that is to say, being agonizingly sweet and being a scene that was generally painful to watch for any onlookers – and the fact that, while she didn't think she would quite be that nauseatingly romantic, she could have easily been doing this same thing with the man who'd failed to show. She almost didn't recognize, at first, the face of the man she recognized to be Emilio, uncharacteristic as his current behavior (and foreign language? That was a new one) was. In fact, regardless of how many hearts might have filled his eyes in some sappy love comic, the display she was watching didn't... look natural. He'd been so serious when they'd met, the entire foundation for the reason that she could tolerate him and even considered dropping in to say hello if he was a handful of yards away, and the stiff never quite blossomed this much, in love or no. Thankful was she that they were turned the other way, lest they catch her watching from afar for what started as a moment or so and stretched on into minutes at a time. It was like watching a professional actor at work, so dedicated to the character that it was almost impossible to tell which personality suited him or her better. And – well, if this was what a bit of romance could accomplish, uncanny as it had been feeling, she couldn't help but think that maybe a bit in her own life would do her well. But then they were kissing (and she was turning her head, because that was not what she had come here to see) and parting ways, the nameless boyfriend disappearing into the crowd off to the side and the one she vaguely knew being left behind. She expected some peaceful transition of elation to some dull amount of happiness, or at the very worst, a look of blankness. Not only was the shift of expressions near instantaneous, however, but the look that it left behind was anything but pleasant. More reminiscent of what she had know, maybe, but even then, something seemed more than a little off – and curiosity was demanding that she place her finger on why, exactly, that was.[break][break]

“Emilio,” she called, although the effort to muster a false smile was more trouble than it was worth. In lengthy strides attributed to long legs, she cut the distance between them first in half, then in half again before she was standing close enough to not have to scream over the bustle of people to allow him to hear her. “Didn't think I'd being seeing you of all people here, especially with your... boyfriend.” What she didn't say was that they seem awfully close for someone never mentioned. Not that she would have expected him to spill his entire life story, but anyone that openly affectionate has cause to gush about their significant other – or at least make it known that one exists – at any given opportunity. He was an outlier for certain (but something screamed from deeper down that “outlier” wasn't the right word for what she was trying to beg down.)

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There it was again; he's bounced from amour to vexation in one moment, and the moment she'd called his name and caught his eye, there'd been somewhat of an emotional rebound. It wasn't as though she hadn't seen close friends do just the same thing, being gloomy one second and cheery the next now that their companion was with them, but she didn't think that she'd left that spectacular of an impression on him. At the very least, he hadn't on her, and it was only a good memory that had allowed for her to recall his name and the fact that the scene playing out before her didn't exactly fall into line with how he remembered him to be. It was... uncanny at best. No, no, not at best. At best, it was impressive. She'd heard of people who had little control over their emotions, flip flopping between opposite ends of the spectrum at the single drop of the hat, or those who had tempers so short and powerful that a single word could send them from frolicking through fields to declaring a need for murder from one moment to the next, but this didn't appear to be either of those things, both in the fact that neither expression was exceptionally powerful and that he'd shifted from something negative to positive before her very eyes. What it reminded her of, she realized shortly after, was the shift in attitude and countenance of an actor beginning their scene. She, herself, had never been very good at the art, but when she was a young girl, her mother had taken her to see plays put on by those of real talent. Pulled strings, as well, had allowed them to meet with the ones on stage bringing the stories to life on an occasion or two, and even back then, she'd been fascinated by how someone so sweet in a tale could be so prickly and conceited in their own persona, or vice versa. Similar were the cases, maybe, but even then, she didn't quite think that was what was going on here. It wasn't as though there was exactly anyone to be putting on a show for here, right? Unless one counted that prior (and, might she add, a bit touch obnoxious) display of affection as a “show,” but if that was the case, the number of people actually trying to pay attention were far too few to make it any successful. The faint smile on her lips faded into something far more neutral, mind struggling and ultimately failing to get a solid understanding of everything that was going on and the motives behind them. More confusing, as well, was that she was this concerned about he and his affairs at all. Undoubtedly, the solution, should she ever actually find it, would be far less interesting than the setup implied it to be. Maybe, she thought for a moment, that this was a mystery better left unsolved.[break][break]

“Is there a problem with me having a boyfriend?” If Evelyn had planned to desist, though, the chance was stolen from her by the sight of Emilio's frown and the look of discomfort that had fallen upon his features. Oh, no – that wasn't how she'd wanted that sentence to come out at all. She paused for a second to try and come up with how to phrase her excuse, but nothing that sounded rational came to mind, and all she managed to offer him was a staccato: “No.” It wasn't that she minded who he dated, or that he dated at all. It was that this boyfriend seemed more than a little fishy to her for reasons she wasn't exactly sure of how to explain. Before she could even try to put that into words, though, he'd added a little pointedly, “My personal life isn't your business, if you're interested in asking questions.” Oh, darn it. It was clear that at least some offense had been taken here, and it wasn't just at the fact that offense hadn't been her intent that had frustration at herself running bone deep. If she'd been wanting any kind of answers, there was no way in hell that she was going to get them by asking politely now. Again, her mind flooded with the questions of what to say and how to say them – would an apology do? no, no, of course it wouldn't; maybe some snide comment about how his romantic life didn't seem very “personal” out here in public, though that was as characteristic of herself as it was a sure fire way of getting a kick in the shin – but not a chance was given to fully settle on a remotely definite answer for either one. Maybe he just had a thing for not giving people the proper amount of time to decide and give a response, or maybe time was just passing her by faster than it was everyone else when she tried to use what allotted time she did have. Either way, she hadn't been able to make so much as a sound outside of that of her breathing before his voice was dropping beneath the volume of the crowd and he was the one explaining things to her. “Look, this probably looks bad, all lovey dovey one second and then irritated the next. The guy did some terrible things to my girlfriend so I'm just trying to get her some just revenge.” Well, that... certainly did explain the behavior, and the idea of getting revenge against someone who'd done some terrible thing in the past to a love one was definitely something she could put herself behind. With one of many questions answered, though, she couldn't help but find herself craving explanations for the ones remaining uncertain more than ever. What, exactly, was done to the girlfriend was something she wasn't so invasive as to ask, but knowing why someone did something didn't exactly explain how they did it.[break][break]

“I'd offer my help,” the chef said after a moment of contemplative silence, “but you look like you know what you're doing.” In the moments that followed, though, she regarded him with a look of open curiosity – not because of doubt toward the truth of his words, but at the sudden question of whether or not this was the extent of his acting capabilities. For a second, she thought of her own plight, different from his false personality from moments before as it was, but while she discarded the thought immediately, the initial question on her tongue couldn't be stopped so easily. “You're really good at putting on a face. Can you do more than act like a love-sick puppy dog?”

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“You're right. I have this well under control.”[break][break]

Eyebrows rose briefly, diluted shock coloring her features as he said his words. Evelyn couldn't quite pin what about it caught her attention – the lack of hesitation, perhaps, or maybe the vague shadow of dismissal that hung over each word like a cloud – but whatever it was, had he not had her full attention before, he certainly would have had it then. The entire thing seemed, again, out of place for his character... although she would be the first to admit that she hadn't pegged him as the type to so underhandedly get revenge before now despite how blatantly obvious it seemed to be then. She never claimed to have a talent for reading people before, only harboring enough to get her by, and she wouldn't start doing so now. Arrogant little shit, isn't he? she thought to herself, but the words were harsher than the emotions behind him. If anything, the whole thing had the initial jolt of surprise melting into something more befitting of amusement, brow dropping slightly to pull the corners of her mouth in the opposite direction in the opposite manner. At the very least, he was being honest with her – surprisingly so – and in the modern age, she was beginning to find that honesty was as much a godsend as it was hard to find.[break][break]

Keeping with this new found fortune, she was pleased to find that he didn't think much of her leading question outside of what was being asked at its core, probably thinking it to be the start of small talk or finding its roots in something equally menial. Better still than Emilio's reaction to it, though, was the answer he had to give to it. “Yeah, I can do more, I guess.” Score. This was, of course, no way a guarantee that she could squeeze what she wanted out of him, but it was definitely a step in the right direction. She'd come across people of his art that spent their time perfecting only one kind of character – or, well, knew of them, she supposed; she couldn't recall a time before now that she'd ever bothered to pull this kind of stunt, and therefor had no real reason to ask the extent of an acquaintance's acting talent – and if that was the case here, it simply wouldn't do. She needed to learn the complete opposite of the show he was putting on now, and she definitely wouldn't be able to get it out of him if he didn't know how to do it himself. So lost that one step in a mountain climb, though, was she that she didn't quite catch the fact that he'd proceeded to go onward with his answer, explaining further something that really could have been cleared up in a simple “yes” or “no.” Still, she'd humor him long enough to catch the tail end of his schpeel; believe it or not, she was actually a bit fond of him and what he had to say, and blatantly ignoring his words wouldn't get her anywhere in terms of both gain and morality. “...ople also see what they want, filtering out the things that don't fit into their ideology or fantasy. Any decent actor can fool an idiot and people are bigger idiots than you might think.” Did they? Filter out such things, that was. For a moment, she pondered the idea only to realize that, while there was a difference between traits and words, she'd been essentially doing the same thing just moments before. Instead of letting the shame settle in where it would refuse to leave, though, she drowned out the emotion with a retort: “Oh, believe me, I'm more than a little aware of how dumb most people actually are. In my line of work, you start to see people's real colors.”[break][break]

Her company watched his cellphone and then the city beyond as she regarded him in silence. Jumping right into this sort of thing would make her seem desperate and, worse, betray the fact that this was a planned plea for help rather than a spur-of-the-moment idea. … Er, well, more of a mixture of both; not as though she'd purposely tracked him down for this purpose, but either way, that was information she'd rather keep locked up for her mind only. Still, with his silence and her silence combined, waiting for “the right moment” grew agonizingly painful, and no more than a minute or so of stone-like standing passed before the raven-haired woman finally caved. “Any you're really good at? Like a happy-go-lucky kind of guy – or the sort of guy who could drop kick you into Florida?”

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