(no subject)

[extendedmetaphor]

Or, perhaps, somewhere, they did go for that drink.

There was a lot that Irwin was still trying to adjust to. The weather, for a start. The lack of palpable history is disconcerting. He's refusing to address the dinosaurs.
And then there's Dakin. Of course, there's Dakin. Inevitably. Irwin might have been the only one who was actually surprised.

They skirted around it for a few weeks but, in the end, it just felt inevitable. That he'd find himself waiting for Dakin with a drink in front of him.
It was just a drink. And everything would be fine.

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[thesubjunctive]

It was just a drink.

Though that, of course, depended on whether or not you went in for euphemisms. Dakin quite liked verbal fig leaves and and for him that single drink could mean a great many things.

To ensure that at least one of them happened, he had prepared a lot. From the highly impractical for the heat leather jacket to his hair to his jeans, everything had to be right. Scripps had mocked the whole process mercilessly, but it was like a soldier preparing for battle, really. He had to be thorough for his best chance at an eventual victory.

By the time he appeared at Irwin's side, ordering his drink with a casual smile at the bartender, Dakin felt about as fucking prepared as he'd ever been in his life.