The Flying Pussyfoot, Limbo City, Wednesday

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Due to owning a business, Kathy sometimes got very weird, not-at-all-related-to-her-business offers from vendors trying to establish a working relationship. Most she tossed, but occasionally something really cool would end up in her inbox. Like a pair of tickets for a Murder Mystery Dinner, taking place on a newly-renovated luxury train from the 1930s. People would sign up, choose a character from the list of possible dinner attendees, and then show up and ride the train around Limbo City for a few hours, having dinner and trying to solve the whodunnit.

Kathy had been charmed from the start and had pretty much decided to go immediately. The question of who to take was answered when she spotted that one of the characters listed was a "rich rock star."

That made it easy.

One conversation of 'You don't have to dress up and you can bring your guitar!' and 'pleeeeease, it sounds like a ton of fun!' later, and Kathy and Dante had their tickets and were waiting to board the extravagant train cars of The Flying Pussyfoot for four hours of delicious, murdery fun!

[For the poor sap who agreed to this]

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"Do we have to get up now?" Kathy mumbled, trying to push herself up. "Ugh."

Her stomach rumbled. "Maybe not so ugh."

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Dante laughed softly.

"We still have dinner," he said, getting up to his feet. "And a murder to solve."

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"It was the butler," Kathy grumbled. "Always the butler."

She caught a look at herself in the mirror. "Oh my god."

She didn't just have sex hair. She had sex face, too, her makeup announcing to the world she'd just taken it hard and well.

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"I should probably head back first anyway," Dante said, patting her on the back. "Stall you a few more minutes."

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"What're you going to say?" Kathy asked, trying to finger-comb her hair. "After all, you were supposed to be on a call or something, right?"

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"I'm gonna say work emergency that a lot of shouting managed to fix," Dante said, smirking at her.

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Kathy groaned, giving up on her hair enough to bury her face in her hands. "There's no way we're getting away with this."

She wouldn't have traded it for the world.

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"Eh, we add ambiance," Dante said, flashing her a winning grin.

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"Oh, is that what the kids call loud fucking these days?" Kathy asked, unable to ignore that grin.

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"Ambiance," Dante agreed, doing up his fly and reaching for the door.

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"I hate how easy it is for you to clean up and just saunter on back there," Kathy called after him, glad she had her purse nearby. There was her lipstick in there, at least, and makeup wipes. Maybe she could salvage something.

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Dante's laugh followed him all the way into the restaurant.

"Work emergency solved," he announced to the table as he sank down into his seat.

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If there was one saving grace to the whole thing, it was that the ambient noise of the dining car - which was finishing up the second course by now and nearly onto the third - had probably drowned out most of the noises they'd made, especially with most of an empty car between them and the bathroom.

"Oh good," said the old lady he was sitting next to. "And, uhh, have you seen Miss Li? She went to go get a wrap a few moments after you left and never returned. You don't suppose something happened to her, do you?"

Everyone was caught between amusement at their antics and a kind of excited speculation since this was, after all, a murder mystery. Had the first victim been claimed?

No. She was just trying to get rid of the evidence of how far her mascara had run without wrecking what remained of her rouge and foundation, dammit.

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"I saw her going through her luggage back there," Dante volunteered, pointing her thumb. "I think she maybe lost something."

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"Oh no, the poor dear," another lady clucked. "Maybe someone should go fetch her. She's going to miss dinner at this rate."

Considering the number of bobby pins she was currently picking out of her hair to reposition, that was a grave possibility.

Damnit, she was shaving her head.

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"We'll just have to ask them for a lid to keep the food warm until then," Dante offered, and motioned at the waiter to do just that.

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Kathy slipped back in about halfway through the main course, murmuring soft apologies for being gone so long. "Suddenly I didn't feel so we'll," she said, giving them all a small, embarrassed smile. "I needed to lie down for a bit and let my stomach settle."

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"Shoulda said," Dante said, smiling at her. "Didn't have to go digging around for some painkillers or whatever, I have some."

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"I was hoping it would pass a bit faster," Kathy said, incorporating that into her story. "Besides, I hadn't expected my motion sickness meds to sink down to the very bottom of my bag."

She caught the eyes of several women and exchanged a knowing smile. "Doesn't matter how small your handbag is, something always manages to get lost, huh?"

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"Pockets," Dante said sagely. "Whole fuckin' untapped market, dresses with pockets."

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Literally every other woman at the tables cooed at him for that insight. "Oh you're right about that sweetheart," one woman said while another added, "oh a rockstar can understand but the fashion industry can't." "Oh but they can release another girdle improvement every year, can't they?" a third demanded.

Kathy gave Dante a look of droll amusement. Apparently he had fans for life now.

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Dante grinned sunnily at her, and reached for her hand under the table. Gave it a squeeze.

Hey, he'd picked up a few things from someone.

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Kathy was just going to roll her eyes at him - she knew very well who he was parroting, thank you - but she squeezed his hand back.

"Oh thanks to whomever asked the waiter to cover this," she said, removing the dome to reveal a still-steaming ratatouille. "I appreciate it."

"Oh that was that nice young man," A gentleman across the table said. "He spoke to the waiter and suggested it."

This time the look Kathy shot Dante was surprised and appreciative. "Thank you."

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"Nothin' sucks worse than a cold meal," Dante said easily, and withdrew his hand so he could shove a fork full of food into his mouth.

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//I can think of things that suck better,// she murmured in Korean.

"What was that, dearie?"

"Just Korean grace," Kathy lied, baldly and with the prettiest smile.