Layland smiled when Cian agreed to meet for dinner. It wasn't much of a smile, but it wasn't false or forced either. He pulled a notepad and pen from his bag and nodded. "Good. Tell me your address and I'll come pick you up in about an hour. There's a small upscale place downtown I frequent and I was planning on going there. Make sure to dress nicely," he explained. He was still intent on his steak and shrimp and just because he was dining with a person other than his family or their friends for the first didn't change anything.

Once he got Cian's address, he slipped the notepad back into it's place. Layland nodded his head once politely, though his eyes sparked with curiosity and a small amount of excitement. "I will see you then?"

Cian stuttered out his address, shifting from one foot to the other a little. When the question as to whether or not Layland would see him came up, Cian brought up his head and nodded jerkily. "Ah, yeah... You'll see me... You can trust me." And Layland certainly could. Cian never went back on his word and made sure that, even if it was uncomfortable, he would do what he could to honor his promise. "I'll... I'll get going then... Get ready..." He hurried past, feeling his mouth dry a little more.

Had he seen a little excitement in Layland's eyes? No... That was Cian, hoping Layland had changed somehow. But it was the man's curiosity that wanted Cian to come along. He would wring the young man for every drop of information he could and drop him after that. This was a one time thing, Cian had to keep that in mind as he walked home. A one time thing and nothing else. He gritted his teeth, keeping his gaze on the ground and his hands wrapped tight around the strap over his shoulder.

Trying not think about why he was doing things like dinner with a guy he'd drugged, Layland headed for the parking lot between the science and main classroom building. After he dropped off some letters at the post office, he headed home. The mess inside was reaching new limits, but he had only small difficulty finding things he needed. There was nothing like organization to the clothes, books, paper, and other detritus, but he could remember where he last dropped things.

He picked up a voice recorder because he preferred the old fashioned device to apps you could get on your phones these days. They sapped too much energy from the battery and they he'd have to find his phone charger. Layland put that in his bag then showered and changed into a crisp white shirt with black pants and polished shoes. He didn't have much more time to kill after that, so he was soon back in his car on the way to pick up Cian. He parked outside the building then sent a text. 'Ready?'

When he got home, Cian deposited his bag on the couch and wandered numbly through the house, finding himself in a rather cool shower. He tilted back and forth under the falling water, breathing in and out carefully. He wasn't quite sure why he was still obsessed with Layland---the drug had to have worked through his system, how could its effects be crippling him still? Still, after so long. It hadn't been years yet---yet---though it felt like it. He only came back to reality when the water began growing cold, and Cian jumped out, drying while he went to his room to look through some clothing. He had few that could be considered 'weekend clothes', things that looked like they could be worn to bed or around the house and little elsewhere.

He pulled on a pale blue shirt an gray tie, black slacks and shoes, and his dark gray vest. It looked acceptable, at least, but at the same time Cian was sure a jacket might be overdoing it. As long as he could simply blend in. Going through to his kitchen to find a bottle of water, Cian's phone---something he used rarely, and really just to speak with his parents---buzzed on the counter. He gasped when he saw the message, running to the door and peering out. A car was there, and Layland was in it. His heart was racing, and Cian vanished inside to grab his wallet from a pocket of his bag, then hurried outside, locking his door and pocketing his keys. He somewhat awkwardly got into the car, shifting a little and smiling a bit at Layland, reaching for the seatbelt beside him.

Layland spent a second just watching Cian as he got into the car. A second long enough for the other to get settled and put on his seatbeat, which was really all Layland was waiting for. He drove in silence because greetings seemed out of place when they had seen each other only an hour earlier. The closest he came to a greeting was a nod of his head right when Cian got into the car. To Layland though, this silence wasn't an uncomfortable but one that was necessary between two people who would have nothing to say to each other.

The drive took ten minutes in all, and would have taken less if Layland was the sort to drive over the speed limit like every other moron on the road. The place he stopped in front of was small, but the beige brick and windows were all spotless. Orb shaped lights lined the roof over the second story with a fairytale elegance. "Come on. I reserved us a table in the corner so we should be able to talk freely." He led the way inside and smiled at the maitre'd.

The middle aged man greeted them. "Mr. Richard's, it's good to see you again. I've got your table ready. How surprising to see you with a guest." He led the way to the corner table and placed down their menus. "The waiter will be with you in a minute with the drink list."

Cian kept his gaze on his lap, his hands folded loosely in front of him. He didn't look out the window because out the window, glaring lights and people were there. His irrational thoughts on the concept was that he felt as if theirs were the only vehicle on the road, and people simply stared while they passed. Irrational though it was, Cian didn't like to look out the window unless he was the one driving. Then he had focus. The silence between them seemed strained in his opinion, though then again, he rarely rode with anyone. When they finally made it to their destination---a short ride that seemed to take an age---Cian got out and looked up at the building. It was quite the place, but he didn't linger, following the only recognized source currently at hand.

Inside Cian folded his hands behind his back, keeping a little behind Layland with his gaze at knee-height. He was glad that Layland had decided on a quiet, corner table, but doubted it was for Cian's good. He just didn't want to let others hear what they would no doubt talk about.

Once they were alone, Layland let himself smile freely. He was at home in fancy places like this. Ever since he was a child, he had sat in these kinds of stiff backed chairs and was smiled at with the best fake smiles a business could offer. He didn't open his menu and simply looked at Cian. "I brought a recorder so I can keep track of anything important we might discuss. I hope you don't mind." It didn't occur to him that this might freak out a normal person and even more so someone who was as awkward around people as Cian was.

A young waitress approached them and Layland asked for a glass of pinot grigio. She took their drink orders and walked away again. Layland continued on with what he'd been saying before as if there had been no interruption. "But we don't have to talk about such things right now. There's no point in ruining dinner before we've even ordered our meal, right? But I suppose if I don't start asking questions, I'll have no idea what to say."

When he sat, Cian folded his hands lightly in front of him. Glancing up, he widened his eyes at the recorder, and bit his lip. "Ah... I... don't mind, I suppose..." He said after a moment. He did mind, really, but hoped Layland would keep it to himself. There was little to debate---even if Cian objected he was sure Layland would hide the recorder somewhere Cian wouldn't be able to see. When a young woman approached for their drink order, Cian looked down a bit and asked for water. He didn't even want to think about alcohol, no matter how gentle it was. To act like a fool in such a nice place would mortify him later, if he could even remember it.

"Ah, okay..." He said when they were alone again. "Well... what do you want to know? I'm not sure how much I could answer..." He looked around. There were others nearby, but not within distance to hear what they were saying if they kept their voices rather low. And only occasionally did someone look toward them.

It was good that Cian agreed to the recorder. Otherwise, Layland would have to take notes by hand and who knew how much he would have to write. Writing was not conductive to a relaxing dinner at all. "Good. We should have about thirty minutes worth of space to talk on this things." He set the recorder on the table and clicked it on after a second. There was no reason to stall his curiosity any longer since he had Cian's approval to ask away.

"Well then, I guess I can start at the beginning. What you do is...magic? Is that how you yourself would define it?" he asked. It was hard to figure out just what questions to ask when he had so many. He always wanted to talk about the love potion, but he would save that until the very end so that when things blew up in their faces, they'd already be done eating. He had no doubt that talking about the potion would end poorly, even if it needed to be done.

Cian knitted his brow. Suddenly this sounded more like an interrogation of sorts, an interview that he hadn't prepared for. He shifted a little, looking down at his hands as they busied themselves picking at the top of the white tablecloth. "Erm... Yeah... I mean, I wouldn't consider it anything else. Telekinesis, while it may or may not exist, has its limits. And when I hear my parents speak of what my family can do, they refer to it as 'our magical abilities'. But they never go deeper than that. Maybe they knew I was listening. They'd never tell me." He sighed, shaking his head and falling silent as the young woman reappeared, setting two glasses on the table. He managed a little smile before she set down menus and noted that they would soon be visited again.

"I tried to do research on my own." He said after a moment, running his finger over the rim of his glass. "I got... some information. But not as much as I'd like." Cian grimaced inwardly. Was what he said useless to Layland? The man had only brought him out to talk about what he'd seen, but Cian couldn't help but feel as if he wanted to keep the man happy. Even if his version of happy was a stoic stare. He raised his head, watching Layland without quite realizing how critically he was observing.

Layland listened with intensity, the sort that left his eyes rarely blinking. He barely acknowledged the glass that was set down in front of him. Cian may not have had much concrete information, but since he himself had none, every detail was water to his desert mind. "It's telekinesis then? The sort of magic you do extends only to what can be moved with the mind?" he asked, barely waiting for Cian to finish speaking. He didn't know what other kind of magic there would be besides moving objects. He skipped asking if there was different magic though, considering it was a less important question.

"How did you go about researching?" he asked after a second, finally taking the time to sip his wine. Knowing that Cian had tried to do his own research upped Layland's respect for him considerably. Though Layland had quite a bit already after the parking lot magic show. The waitress returned and asked their meal order. He said his without switching his attention away from Cian. "I have to admit, this is quite spectacular. I never dreamed I would be entertaining the idea that there is such thing as magic."

He shook his head jerkily. "N-no, it's not telekinesis, I was using it as an example." Cian had such a had time keeping his thoughts right, but in this new place, it was just a little more difficult. "Telekinesis isn't magic, it's a form of extremely potent mental and physical energy combined to manipulate things around the individual---it can turn... things on and off... lift things, send things flying... but only in varying amounts. And only the most unique minds have the potential, so it's so rare that it's brushed off as science fiction." He breathed out, releasing the bottom of his glass before he accidentally crushed it between his nervous hands.

When the waitress returned, Can realized he hadn't even glanced through the menu, and slipped his hands under the table, snapping them and spreading them out. The noise hushed, the movement stilled, and he took the few moments he had to move through the menu given and decide on a grilled chicken salad. Before the movement in the room returned to normal, he situated himself in the same position he had before and gave his request with only the slightest tremor before returning his gaze to Layland. The man was staring, and Cian couldn't help but squirm a bit.

"Ah, I..." He bit his lip. "I searched back through family records and found that since the mid 1760s, my family has entertained magical abilities. Many were considered witches and burned or killed before they decided to keep it to themselves. No one that marries into the family can use it, only the root of the family name. The children of the couple can use magic, however. But... since the late 1880s there has't been a female born into the family. I don't know how it's relevant but I thought... it meant something." He shrugged shakily, sipping his water to take away the cottonmouth that set in.

Science and the unknown always fascinated Layland, but this was even beyond that. He was on the edge of his seat literally as he listened to Cian. The details of this magic ability helped to convince him. With the way the puzzle pieces were falling now, Layland found it harder to dismiss Cian's abilities as fairytale substance. "Very interesting..." he muttered, mostly to himself. Even though he was listening so intently to the information, he found it easy to feel alone in the room. Only the puzzle and the information existed. "This sounds less like magic now and rather a new science. Amazing really."

He sipped quietly at his wine, finally breaking his intensity. He fiddled with the recorder, anxious to make sure it was still recording. His fingers had a hard time staying still. The problem with recording like this was he didn't need to take notes. His fingers desperately wanted to though. Layland glanced up after another second, his brow furrowed at the last bit of information. "Genetics then? It's not my field of specialty, but even I can see that's strange. Not a single female...?" He trailed off, trying to understand the implications of that. He didn't know what to say. He should probably be sensitive, but he knew he was no good with such things, but he didn't bother.

Cian opened his mouth, then closed it again, shrugging a little. Science and magic really seemed to blur at a certain point, and it was the reason he didn't care to try to figure it out on a deeper level. "When they thought I was still too young to understand, they'd talk freely around me. They'd say the curse is forcing them to honor their end of the deal and that's why we don't birth female babies anymore. So it keeps us bound to our contract. But whenever I ask them about the contract they'd talk about, I'd always be told I must have dreamed the whole thing because they've never talked about a contract. But I even hear it nowadays, too. They whisper about it when they think I'm making my jewelry. They make it sound as if we entered an agreement with a demon. But any of our books relating to our power or the acquisition of that power has pages entirely scribbled out, or blackened to where I can't read them."

He picked up his water glass and watched the water move inside. Then with a simple movement of his hand, the water froze. "I'm not sure how you could call this science. Science doesn't immediately freeze water at a willful request. It doesn't send wind flying or rocks into the air at your command. It doesn't put together intricate necklaces and earrings and bracelets. But I don't know---That's why I'm an artist, not a chemist or scientist." With another wave, the water returned to its liquid state, albeit a bit colder now. He watched Layland's hand play with the recorder, then tore his gaze away to look out a nearby window.

Layland also didn't think this sounded like science. For a second, it did, but then enormity of what magic could do hit him. He eyed the frozen water in the glass and felt worried. Every description Cian gave seemed to both sound like science and laugh in science's face. He didn't know exactly what to do with that, but that was the fun in puzzles. He told himself that, but this puzzle made him more anxious that he wanted to admit. He worried that it might unravel the foundation his life was built on.

"I am a scientist though. I can find things out where others would simply not think to look," he said after a period of silence. "This sounds too much like a movie. A damn fairy tale. I don't know what to do with a fairy tale, but if there's even a foundation somewhere in science, I can understand it." He hesitated again, but he didn't lower his gaze even if Cian looked in another direction altogether. "If you want, I can try to help you find the truth."

Cian felt himself smile a little, then looked back toward Layland. "You have a true scientist's frame of mind... wanting the truth. That something I... I like about you." He grimaced and looked down, cursing himself. He'd almost convinced himself that this was an actual date, but kept repeating the same thing in his mind. All Layland wanted was to figure out what Cian could do and how he could do it. Perhaps how his power extended, where it extended, how strong it was, perhaps. He had to remember that. Cian adored Layland, and Layland could barely stand Cian. He blinked hard, returning his gaze up.

"I... don't know if I'm meant to know. I'm sure the pages I found were blackened and charred for a reason. I'm not supposed to know. Maybe it's so ridiculously fantastic I wouldn't be able to handle it. Maybe it's got devils and demons and black magics involved. Something that science can't explain and something that just isn't right or normal to people that think logically. Like you... But if you don't care about that I... I don't know, I mean, I don't even know why you want to waste your time on me or this whole thing." He sighed, cradling his head in one hand. It was pulling him in opposite directions, his adoration and love for Layland that wasn't even real, and his knowledge that Layland just wanted it all to end so he could get the real object of his affection.

Layland paused, dropping both of his hands into his lap. He tilted his head, focusing on how Cian said he liked him. Every time Layland heard such words, he got a surprise. He felt a little happy hearing them, which was surprising in itself. Then he reminded himself it wasn't really Cian talking. "You don't really like me though," he muttered without quite looking at Cian. He was saying this for himself. "It's completely irrational to like someone for a scientific mind. Therefore, you don't really like that about me." When he realized what he'd said, he closed his mouth and dropped his chin onto his palm with a frown.

He thought about the rest of what Cian said with the same frown growing in his mind. "Honestly, how can any truth not be meant to be known? That's just silly. I'm not the one under the influence of a love potion. I don't say things lightly. Ever. I offered my help, so why don't you just shut up and accept it already?" he complained with a roll of his eyes. It was so simple. Even if the whole puzzle screwed Layland over in the end, he was going to help Cian figure it out.

Cian opened his mouth, raising his head, and caught himself before he spoke. He wasn't even sure what he wanted to say. At this point he was caught in between two pains---knowing that all his words were taken very literally, not appreciated at all and probably not even fully heard, and stuck in a new place that he couldn't run away from and couldn't get up the courage to call up a cab or hail one that might be running if he wanted to leave before Layland. So he kept himself silent, studying the very slight imperfections in the glass before him and watching the water inside move and shift when he moved it even slightly.

"Everything I say to you is grossly misconstrued." Cian said, barely lifting his voice and not at all lifting his head. "Maybe there's a reason what I don't know hasn't been known. Maybe there's a reason there hasn't been a female born for the past several centuries. I'm giving you an easy way out and you're not taking it. Why do you care so much about my family, anyway? I know you only wanted me here so you could grill me about what you saw, I'm not trying to breathe more life into your offer than there is. But it'd be nice to be spoken to, for once, as if I'm an equal and not a damn fool."

He breathed in, feeling as if he had just come up for air from the deepest end of a pool. He so rarely spoke his mind that it felt odd to actually do so for once. And in such a new place, to someone he was conditioned to love, but know that the love was misdirected.

Layland shook his head at Cian, nearly tsking. But he stopped himself before he made such a childish noise. "I don't care about your family. I don't care about people. Isn't it you who's caring too much about the details? Help is help. Who cares why," he snapped in a quiet voice. The fact that someone could so easily disregard his words, actually talk back like this. Any other person would beg at his feet for the help of someone with the Richards name. "The fact is, as amazing as you are with your magic...stuff, you are not my equal when it comes to solving puzzles. I have no reason to talk to you as one." His voice dropped in volume and temperature, but when he realized his tightly he was holding his glass, he forced himself to relax.

He wouldn't cause a scene in a place like this. He definitely could not because the people here knew him and they also knew his father. Layland took a deep breath and calmed his voice again so he could continue to speak. "Look, I find you interesting. More interesting that anyone I've ever met, and don't you try to read anything into that. But I want to help you." He crossed his arms and turned his head away, still annoyed.

Cian calmed his curiously warring emotions by breathing in and out carefully, blinking at the glass in front of him and sending it sliding to the side in case it decided to fall in response to his upended emotions. "I find... you... to be..." He sighed, and looked up. "I find you to be childish and self-centered, relying on your name to get you to where you want to be, perhaps to get you out of trouble. I find that abuse of power and it's something I'd never resort to. I find the fact that you tried to drug someone rather than rely on your personality or abilities to attract someone. And knowing you'll never take my affection seriously just runs into every logical thought process I could use. Even the ones that tell me what I feel isn't technically real. It feels real. It might as well be real."

He looked down, cupping his head in his hands. "I have to use an alias wherever I go because people recognize my name immediately. You think you're the only one that can pull out their name as a free-for-all card? My parents were very careful about enrolling me here because of it." He closed his eyes, placing a hand on the jittering glass beside him. If he didn't stay calm---something he was so good at---it would fall, or shatter, or freeze. Something that he wouldn't have initially controlled. "Even if I did want your help, why would I take it? If you'll do little more than ignore what you've done to me---what you tried to do to someone else?"

Cian's words had all the force of a knife slicing into him. How could Cian get so close to the heart of him. Of course Layland knew these facts about himself. No one had the courage to say them to his face, but he heard whispers, half of which were whispers in the back of his own mind. He told himself everything he did was right and his ways had no fault. He was sure his father saw no fault in himself. Why should Layland. Right now though, he couldn't meet Cian's eyes. He dropped his hands into his lap where he twisted them into his pant leg.

"You think I don't know that?" he said coldly, quietly. The sort of coldness that came from his forcing every other emotion out of his voice when they wanted to explode out. "I am this person though. It's the kind of person that I have to thank for my achievements. Yes I tried to drug someone. Of course I tried to talk to her first and to woo her right, but I have no abilities to attract another besides science." He shook his head, completely unsure why he was being so honest. "I did say before that I was sorry and wanted to fix that. You act like you'd rather eat a sword that accept that though."

He caught the glass before it tipped, setting it down carefully. "At this point eating a sword would feel better." He snapped, shocked at his own boldness. "If you don't know how to interact with an artist you should have tried harder on someone else. "Your apologies are as hollow as the rest of you. Cold. Like ice. You think being the way you are gets you where you are? Being cruel, unfeeling, hateful to everyone around you? It isn't that---it's the drive that pushes you forward, the respect and not the fear you force others to feel in your presence, not the terror at throwing around your name breeds."

He breathed in carefully. He knew it had been too good to be true. That a simple, friendly night wouldn't happen. "I shouldn't be surprised anymore." He said. "Even if I haven't known you all that long yet." He pulled his wallet out, bringing out some money he didn't bother to count, but knew it would be more than enough for both of them. Before he stood, he spread a wave of his own energy out and utter silence fell around them once more. When he did stand, Cian leaned forward and set the money down. "I don't want to embarrass you, for some odd reason, so I'll leave without anyone else noticing. I guess I came out with the hope that... maybe I was wrong about you. But I guess I wasn't, for once." He stepped around Layland, feeling his heart racing painfully. No one was moving or speaking---they couldn't even see him until he got out of the room, at which time the dull chatter and clinking of plates returned to the environment.

He'd been worried about this---about leaving before him, being run out, or losing his nerve and running away. But this wasn't running away. It was leaving and retaining at least a little dignity. But no cabs were around, though he could see some pass with people in them. Sighing, Cian sat on the bench near the entrance, not necessarily feeling the urge to go home yet, despite leaving without even a bit of food.

Words choked in Layland's throat. He couldn't say anything before Cian walked away and he must have looked like some kind of fool. He imagined one of his father's women when he suddenly broke up with them and walked out of the restaurant. That stunned, useless sort of expression must have been the same as the one on his face. For a minute, he just sat there. What to do? He wasn't hungry anymore. He didn't want to be in a place like this where he had to keep his face polite and under control at all times. He didn't feel in control at all.

"Damn it," he muttered before pushing back his chair. He checked to make sure the money was right, then walked out before the staff could notice him acting so out of character. He expected Cian to already have gotten out of there. He was obvious a guy with means, so he didn't need Layland in order to get home. That's why he was surprised to see him sitting outside on one of the benches. Layland quickened his walk and brushed past, intending to ignore the other.

He paused for a second though, just looking at Cian. The urge to respond in some way overwhelmed him. "You say I'm the one misconstruing your words, but you also have a set image in mind of who I am. Nothing I do can change that." He continued walking without waiting for a reply and was soon driving away.

He didn't expect Layland to come out so soon, and couldn't find the nerve to do much more than glare his way. Cian only knew Layland by impression, and his impression was that the man jumped to conclusions. That when he wanted something he jumped to the easiest conclusion. He leaned forward, pressing his hands against his eyes and forcing himself to stand. He wanted to walk home, no matter how long a walk it was. He remembered it well---he just had to backtrack. Taking an inventory of the street, he hurried across, walking quickly down the same road he had gone down with Layland not too long ago.

What would he do with those recordings? Cian shuddered to think. Would he write every word down, review it, think about it? Would he send it to someone? To a whole slew of people? People who would discover his power, his family's power, to be real? No, that couldn't happen. Layland wasn't that cruel a man, no matter how much Cian wanted to think so. Layland's disposition was instilled in him from an early age, like Cian's own crippling shyness. He could only partially blame Layland, like he could partially blame himself. He shivered in the cool evening air, wrapping his arms around himself tightly.

Layland drove too fast. All of his thoughts were on Cian and what he said. Layland shouldn't have been all emotional over just words, but he hated this. This entire situation which he had started with his stupid ambition and now he had to fix it even though Cian refused to accept his help. Layland went to sleep early after that, not feeling up to doing much else. Not even making a copy of his recording sounded interesting. He would have to delete the ending of it anyway. There was no way the end of that conversation could see the light of day.

The next day, he didn't go straight to the lab in the morning as he always did. Instead, he headed for the art building. As much as he didn't want to see Cian and start another argument, he was beginning to see that progress could not be made if he didn't talk to Cian again. Layland had no intention of trying to fix a relationship that would never turn good. No, he just needed new data so he could create a cure and end the relationship entirely. He really regretted offering his help in any way now. A cure was the only chance he had left.