I Need A Doctor, Call Me a Doctor [Hastie-Casual]

[DR. HASTIE LANYON]

Despite the occasional glance that (even if he could, Hastie wasn't quite sure if he'd want to stop) he shot at Aurora, Lanyon was rather proud of himself for keeping his eyes on the hallway for the majority of the way. The silence was rather unnerving, though. When walking alongside someone (despite them only recently having met) one would always much like to participate in idle conversation, no matter how unnecessary or silly it is. Fortunately, though, the stretch of time in which neither Aurora or Hastie spoke, was only very brief. In fact that was extremely lucky, as if Lanyon had needed to be the one to start conversation, he would have most likely ended up looking like a babbling fool.

“How do you like New York so far? You finding your way around alright?”
It was an ordinarily typical question, though Hastie couldn't seem to find any words to answer.
A simple 'fine' wouldn't suffice, obviously. 'Fine' was the sort of word that could somehow immediately end any conversation that could have been started. Much like the word 'shut up', in some aspects. No, 'fine' was a word reserved for people the Doctor didn't like. Which meant he certainly wasn't going to say it then.

The only trouble was, he couldn't think of any other words to say apart from 'fine'. Especially not when she was stood right there. Just... there. Quite distracting, really.
"Sorry, one moment." He smiled slightly, before dashing quickly into the locker room. He was only going to switch his white coat for his winter one, but chose to do so as speedily as he could. After all - it was spectacularly rude to keep people waiting. Though he darted back out soon enough - the typical-Doctor-coat now hanging safely in his locker - shrugging on his jacket.

"Well, I'm finding my way around." He chuckled lightly, choosing not to add 'not exactly alright, though', as it would make him seem rather pathetic. He also decided to skip out on the fact that he had already been hit by numerous cars within the few days he had been there. Or that he had somehow managed to get himself lost within the hospital not long ago. Because these factors made him seem so much more than pathetic, of course.
"I should probably get one of those books, with the maps."
No. No I definitely should not. Why did I say that?

They were approaching the door, and, much to Hastie's relief, a thought had occured which would allow him to change the subject. He, obviously, didn't have the slightest idea when Aurora had last eaten, but it was certain that she should do so, especially with an injury. It was necessary to eat to heal, see.
"You should eat something." He said, rather bluntly, closing his eyes briefly and mentally cringing at the fact that he had actually just said it. Lanyon wasn't having much luck with his words.
"What I mean is, as your Doctor..." He trailed off, beginning to feel a little more than ridiculous. Stopping, the Doctor reached out to open the door with one hand, though only when it was halfway there did he realize that they were automatic, and ran his fingers through his hair absentmindedly instead.
"Would you like to get breakfast?"

[laz]

She waited for him to dash into the locker room glad for the brief moment to collect herself. Breathe, Rory, breathe. she had to remind herself over and over again. When he said just a moment he meant it; had he sprinted? He returned wearing a winter jacket and a charming smile and all she could do was respond with a smile. He looked good. Rory tugged at her rugged sweatshirt with the hole in the shoulder and tried not to think about how disheveled she must look right now.

He began to speak as they continued walking. "Well, I'm finding my way around.” Which was guy code for “I’ve gotten lost a few times but, I’m not going to admit it to you.” Rory couldn’t count the number of times Robin had said it to her. But, instead of feeling annoyed like she often did when Robin made excuses, she found it oddly endearing. “I should probably get one of those books, with the maps." She felt the urge to reply “I can be your map” but, resisted. Oh if I were to be a map in his hands” she shook the thought from her mind. Curse you Romeo and Juliet.

Aurora couldn’t help but feel reluctant as they reached the front door. It was as if someone had told her that they were selling the Yankees to Las Angeles and she’d never get to see Derek Jeter play again. She felt her heart sink deep into her chest at the thought of having to say good-bye. At least she’d have an excuse to return in a weeks time. But, even that didn’t lift her spirits. As he pushed to door open for her she expected him to bid her good night and head off to the car park or the subway or hail a taxi or whatever it is that doctors do to get home. Instead, he said, "You should eat something."

She must have given him a puzzled look because a second later he added, What I mean is, as your Doctor…” Rory’s breath caught in her throat, what was he saying? He ran his fingers through his hair and finished his sentence, “Would you like to get breakfast?”

Was there a way of saying yes so that it sounded neither desperate nor apathetic? If there was Rory couldn’t figure out what it was. She paused for a moment, the only thing she could do was smile. She let out a soft laugh and without too much thought murmured, “I’d like that.” She nodded for him to follow her to the right. “I know a place a few blocks over that’s open this early.”

She turned away from him and started walking. Rory closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and smiled to herself. Then she opened her eyes, glanced over her shoulder, and slowed up for the good doctor to catch up. Perhaps this wasn’t such a bad night after all.

[DR. HASTIE LANYON]

Aurora had a lovely laugh.
"I'd like that."
Hastie grinned. He couldn't help it. A big, stupid grin that possibly made him look quite ridiculous. It was only breakfast, after all. But, then again, it wasn't really the idea of breakfast that made him so delighted. He was just grinning.

“I know a place a few blocks over that’s open this early.”
Looking quite possibly like an excited little boy on Christmas day, Lanyon bounded after Aurora, catching up easily with two longs strides, a chuckle and a simple word of confirmation.
"Great!"

He was vaguely aware that he'd left his bicycle somewhere around there that morning, though the larger percentage of his brain thought nothing of it. It was rather unimportant, really, being just a bicycle. Instead, the Doctor found himself concentrating somewhat on Aurora's hair. Because that, really, was a much higher matter of consequence.
She was also much more interesting than a silly old bicycle.
Obviously.

Lanyon most certainly wasn't intending to seem so much like a baby deer, but found somewhat of a spring in his step that hadn't previously been there - and was possibly enough to rival the great Bambi's itself. And, without really noticing it (it was probably just a subconscious thing), the Doctor managed to avoid standing on every crack in the pavement.
Though continuing walking, and keeping as much of his attention as he could harness on where he was going (Hastie would most likely want to remember the way to wherever it was they were heading, for future reference), he turned - only slightly - so as to address Aurora easier.

"So what do you do, then?" He asked, both with interest, and the intent of making small talk. Now that he really looked at her, and was walking alongside, the Doctor realized that she could quite easily be a student at New York University. What she was studying, though, he didn't have a clue. After all, he wasn't a mind reader.
Though, if she did attend the University, it would most likely place her age at around five or so years younger than he. And he did thoroughly believe that she did. Perhaps it was just a hunch, but to Lanyon, Aurora really did seem like the type. One of the people who would work to achieve whatever goals they wished to, instead of simply not bothering.
That's how he saw it, anyway.

But if she didn't, he would probably just take back all that he had thought, in all truth.

[laz]

"Great!"

Seriously, could he be any cuter? Aurora smiled; it’s all she did now. She’d known him barely an hour and she just knew that she wanted to be around him. He had this quiet energy about him that was intoxicating and smile-inducing. He followed her cue and was quick to catch up; what with his long legs and all. He stood a fair bit taller than her but, the way he tilted his head down and the way she tilted her head up, the gap didn’t seem so large.

If it wasn’t for the fact that she actually needed to pay attention to where she was going she would have continued to stare into those eyes of his. The pain in her legs was barely noticeable now that the pain killers were working through her system. She was too focused on the lightness of her heart to be preoccupied by a few bruises. The wind carried his scent around her. Aurora couldn’t quite pin point what exactly was so spectacular about the smell but, one whiff made her heart leap in her chest.

"So what do you do, then?" He broke the silence. She took a second to compose herself, so that she wouldn’t blurt out something stupid. The truth was, she was no doctor, she was a poor college student living in an abandoned loft apartment who spent the majority of her nights racing across rooftops and most of her days studying, painting, or practicing music. Aurora pursed her lips and responded, “I’m a third year at NYU. I am double majoring in Political Science and English.” God that sounds so boring.

“But, I also take Art and Music courses.” She added a moment later, hoping she wouldn’t sound so dull. How can you compete with a doctor? She glanced at her hands; they were calloused but, smooth. Most of them were from practicing the fingerings on her cello, the rest were from parkour. It was hard to distinguish one mark from the other; small patches of white skin. “It’s a lot but, I just like exploring things. My advisor calls me “infinitely curious” but, I don’t think he means it endearingly.”

She led him around the corner and down a few side streets. There was a nice diner that was open twenty-four/seven and had incredible omelets. Rory felt her stomach growl and mouth water. “I hope you’re not a vegetarian because Marty serves the best Chirico and onions in the city.”

[DR. HASTIE LANYON]

"I'm a third year at NYU. I am double majoring in Political Science and English."
She responded as he had partially presumed her to - proving his theory that she was at student at the University to be true. With what could only be called a mental-frown, the Doctor was rather irritated to realise that he was definitely, unnecessarily over-thinking things. But why?
"But I also take Art and Music courses."
Hastie had never really been very good at Art. It wasn't that he didn't have enough creativity for it - as, if he wanted, Lanyon was sure he had more than enough to make something... creative. But rather that he had never really had neither the time nor patience for it.
Plus he had a tendency to be quite clumsy, at times.

He glanced at her hands as she did, noticing the tell-tale marks on the skin. Though, to that he was really, honestly, paying little attention. Hastie was just a little more than a bit preoccupied by simply staring at her hands. Not even for a reason in particular. Just... staring.
“It’s a lot but, I just like exploring things. My advisor calls me “infinitely curious” but, I don’t think he means it endearingly.”
Her voice snapped him away from idle daydreaming (he really had no idea what had caused this sudden lack of attentiveness), and found himself unable to hold back another light-hearted chuckle at her words. He truly did seem to be chuckling an awful lot.

As he followed her lead around a corner (and down a few streets that he was sure he wouldn't remember particularly well - though would certainly try his best to. His expectancy was that at one point, he would possibly try to find the diner again, and all that would happen would be that he would find himself humiliatingly lost), Lanyon partially opened his mouth to say something before her next words caused him to stop the process. It was most definitely a good thing, too, as he wasn't even sure what he had been starting to say.
And Hastie never trusted that on-impulse-talk that infrequently, though annoyingly at the worst of times, managed to find itself uttered from his mouth. Because, most of the time, it was either unintelligible rambling, or just-a-bit-not-good.
“I hope you’re not a vegetarian because Marty serves the best Chirico and onions in the city.”
He replied with a grin, which was hopefully reassuring to say that he certainly wasn't. Despite, of course, a few weeks when he was five, and learned where it was that meat was from (having lived fairly nearby to a farm at the time, the thought put him off such food for a short while - then the cow bit him), Lanyon could safely say that he was most certainly not vegetarian. He didn't really believe it to be very healthy, in all honesty.
"Sounds great!" He was aware that he was repeating himself. And also that he hadn't said very much. And also that he really didn't have a clue what...
"Hang on, what's that?"

[laz]

He was quiet and that worried Aurora. Not that he needed to speak, he really didn’t, but, usually when a guy gets really quiet and laughs randomly it means he’s disinterested. It wasn’t like she was blathering on about pointless gossip or something boring. He’d asked about her and she’d answered. God, she wasn’t boring, was she? She was a student without a job who played the cello and could dance, amongst other things. Oh god. She was boring. Well, the things she could tell him about were boring. If she had begun to talk about her second life she’d probably nab his attention. Not to mention a jail cell.

Doctor Lanyon, Aurora paused. Fuck. What was his first name? What was she supposed to do? Call him Lanyon all night? There were only so many times she could say doc before it become obvious that she had no idea. He hadn’t specifically told her his name so it wasn’t exactly her fault but, still, if they were going to breakfast together and assuming things went as things usually go when you eat with someone and they talked, god, this was embarrassing. She continued talking, hoping she could think of some cool way of asking him without being terribly awkward.

He nodded some more, smiled a lot, and laughed occasionally. She liked his laugh; each time that sound passed his lips she couldn’t help but smile. “Sounds great!” he said again. His accent was far too adorable. He could seriously just stand there and say “sounds great” over and over and over again and she’d be enthralled. But, he went and said something else, “Hang on, what’s that?”

The boy had probably feasted on Haggis his whole life and never once heard of the Portuguese sausage. She took a breath, “Think of it as spicy sausage, grilled up with onions and served with eggs.” She turned the next corner and they came to the big flashing neon lights of the diner. “I’m going to order a side of it, so you’re welcome to try it.” Her mouth was already salivating just thinking about the meal. She led him up the metal stairs to the front of the old dining car turned restaurant and pushed the door open.

She was greeted by the intoxicating scent of eggs, bacon, and coffee. If Aurora could eat breakfast for every meal, she would have. The cook at the grill lifted his head at the sound of the door opening and a wide grin passed his lips. He muttered a hello and waved Aurora to her usual booth. Sliding into the red cushioned seat, she passed a menu over to Doctor Lanyon. She’d been here so many times over the years that she’d practically memorized the thing. “Marty can we get a couple of coffees?” she called out the man covered in the greasy apron. Turning back to Lanyon she asked, “Would you like some juice or something?”

[DR. HASTIE LANYON]

“Think of it as spicy sausage, grilled up with onions and served with eggs. I’m going to order a side of it, so you’re welcome to try it.”
He seemed quite unable to rid a lingering smile from his face as he followed Aurora up the stairs. The diner they entered was so typically (in Lanyon's opinion) American, and different (at least to him it was, having never set foot in an American diner before), that he found it quite hard not to immediately take a liking to.
Hastie looked around as he settled in the booth opposite her, taking the menu and immediately flipping it open. He had not previously realised that he was actually quite hungry - having been earlier distracted. Excessively.
He still rather was, in all truth, but perhaps the atmosphere of the diner was allowing his brain to work rationally for a few moments.

Nevertheless, if Lanyon had been granted just enough time to look over the menu, had been presented with rational thinking (if only for a short space of time) - he was definitely wasting it. Because Hastie was staring fixedly at Aurora over the top of the menu.
And in those moments, for the first time in his life, Doctor Lanyon simply thought: "Who needs rational thinking?"

“Would you like some juice or something?”
The question had certainly caught him off guard, and the man was sure that he had only heard part of it (the part he heard most likely being wrong) - and so took a few moments in deciding how he was going to answer.
"Huh? Uh... Oh. No, I'm... Uh. Fine?"
Nice one.

He lay down the neglected menu, simply deciding that he would just order whatever she did, and refrained with all his might from burying his face in his hands. Oh, how he envied the men who could talk easily. Who didn't stumble on their answer to every question asked, just because they were nervous!
Because he really was quite nervous.
Unfortunately, Doctor Lanyon (like most people) was not without his typical nervous habits. And, somehow, he managed to present two of these at the same time. Three - if his ridiculously off speech counted.
Hastie's left hand promptly moved to brush through his hair, whilst his other began to tap out the tune of a song by The Smiths - completely of his own accord. He was rather fond of The Smiths.

"Oh!" the Doctor exclaimed, sitting straight up and grinning like a cat, "Oh, you don't know my name yet, do you?"
And with that, Hastie began to chuckle lightly - the way a person would who knew a secret joke.
Oh, God. His name.

[laz]

"Huh? Uh... Oh. No, I'm... Uh. Fine?" Aurora watched his grey-blue eyes peer over the menu at her and she had to crack a smile. She was by no means a science major but, she could tell something chemical was happening here. And not in that cheesy romantic way that people talk about in movies. It was like a formula. Doctor Lanyon smiled and the crinkle of his nose caused a reaction to bubble in Aurora’s stomach which curled her lips into a ridiculous smile. And then he’d smile at her smile. It was a truly vicious cycle but, Rory didn’t care.

The diner looked as it always had; run down, beat up, and slightly dirty. But, it was as close to home as Rory had these days and she loved every inch of the place. From it’s fading red cushions to the slick nineteen-fifties style countertops and barstools to the old juke box with the cracked glass on the far left side. There were so many fond memories in this place that Rory couldn’t help but smile every time she walked in. She’d been doing an awful lot of smiling in the last hour which was certainly uncharacteristic of her. Not that she wasn’t happy, she could be, but, most of the time she was busy dealing with more serious matters.

While her thoughts began to wander to those Saturdays so long ago when her father used to buy them an extra plate of chocolate chip pancakes to share a soft tapping noise started to tug her back to reality. It was Doctor Lanyon. He was mindlessly striking his fingers against the counter in a familiar beat. The words came out softly, “A punctured bicycle on a hillside desolate will nature make a man of me yet ? she half sung the lyrics half spoke them. “When in this charming car, this charming man. Why pamper life's complexity when the leather runs smooth on the passenger seat.”

She paused, had she just started singing? Oh god. “The Smiths.” she coughed, “Good band.” Thankfully he spoke, “Oh, you don’t know my name yet, do you?” She was rather glad he addressed that little fact, she was far too embarrassed to ask. Rory gave a smile, another one, bit her lip in thought and replied, “Would be quite helpful unless you want me to just call you Doctor for the rest of the night.”

A waitress appeared at the table side a moment later and Rory unblinkingly ordered, “Two eggs over easy, wheat toast, and a side of chorizo and onions.” Aurora glanced over to Doctor Lanyon.

[DR. HASTIE LANYON]

She started to sing.
Well, half-sing, but it was singing all the same. And he wasn't even really listening to the singing, to be honest, he was just listening to the words. And Lanyon was instantly chuffed to know that she knew them.
Really, honestly, chuffed.
And, although she was only half-singing, if Lanyon had enough rational thinking (there is was again, that unnecessary necessity) to notice, he would probably note that she was quite a good singer, in his opinion.

"The Smiths. Good band."
"Great band." the Doctor replied, talking through a grin spread through his face. She had already picked up on the chemical cycle (though of course he didn't know that) but it was definitely unlikely that Hastie would also do so very soon. After all, he didn't even have enough of a straight head to pay attention to the menu, never mind scientifically thinking.
Though it was what he did for a living, really, anything to do with that had seemed to fly from his head once it was no longer necessary to help Aurora.

Fortunately, before he could make a fool of himself on this topic, an opportunity arose to help make himself more of one regarding another.
His name.

“Would be quite helpful unless you want me to just call you Doctor for the rest of the night.”
He laughed at this, though was rather reluctant to tell her, to be honest. It wasn't that he didn't want her to know his name (in fact he was quite surprised that he hadn't blurted it out already - nerves, see), but rather what her reaction would be. Most people laughed. And, though the laughing never bothered him, as he himself thought it to be quite a ridiculous name, some small part of him hoped that she wouldn't.
Maybe he just really hoped that she wasn't 'most people'.

He opened his mouth to reply (but with what, he didn't know - Hastie's brain seemed to be completely out of the conversation) but was promptly cut off when Rory ordered. And after she did, both she and the waitress looked to Lanyon.
"Uhm, I'll have the same." He was still grinning, somehow, despite feeling ridiculously awkward.

The waitress soon left, fortunately, and so Hastie continued with whatever it was he was about to say. Placing both hands flat on the table, he leaned forward in a secretive manner. His grin had faded slightly, and his tone quite unusually serious.
Perhaps he was honest when he thought that he didn't really want her to laugh.
"You have to promise not to mock me."

[laz]

"Great band."

A doctor with good taste in music? Was that possible? That was like hitting the jackpot. If Aurora hadn’t already felt a pull toward Doctor Lanyon than his love of the The Smiths certainly got her attention. Now it just solidified the fact that she liked him. Aurora had a habit of disliking doctors. Not as people but, just the profession in general. She’d met more than her fair share of doctors over the years and all of them had been very nice people but, there was something about hospitals and those white coats that always put her on edge. But, Lanyon, there was just something about him that was so different from everything she thought she knew.

He was humble and kind of bumbling but, in a really cute sort of way. Obviously, he had to be intelligent or he wouldn’t have passed his medical exams but, he wasn’t constantly boasting about it. He was sweet and gentle and had wonderful taste in music. Aurora noted down the things she found endearing about the doctor in her mind and kept coming to the same conclusion: he was too good to be true. Yes, he had all these wonderful traits but, he was also so human. Lanyon was down to earth, flawed, and quirky. It was absolutely wonderful.

She suppressed a grin when he mumbled, "Uhm, I'll have the same." God he was just too cute. Aurora stopped herself, how much did she really know about him? She brushed the question away quickly, did it matter? Couldn’t she just let go of control for just this once? Yes, yes she could. Learning his name was not as difficult as she had originally suspected, in fact, he was just about to tell her. And then he added, "You have to promise not to mock me."

Aurora took pause. Could it really be that embarrassing? She contemplated all the possible names that he could possess… Madison? That was both a girl and a boy’s name. Bartholomew? Gaylord? Tierrainney? A dozen others came to her each more ridiculous than the rest. It couldn’t be that bad, could it? And if it was there had to be a nickname that he had to hide from it. Not that Aurora cared… he could have been called vomit and she’d still find his eyes the most intoxicating color she’d ever seen.

“Lay it on me.” [/i] she smirked taking a sip of her coffee. “I promise not to laugh. And if I do…” she paused to think about it. “If I do, I will pay for your breakfast. Deal?”

[DR. HASTIE LANYON]

“Lay it on me.”
Without realising it, Hastie copied Aurora's action, taking a sip of the coffee, and managing to hide his grin with the cup.
At least, he was pretty sure he was hiding it.

“I promise not to laugh. And if I do…”
She paused, and the Doctor raised one eyebrow ever-so-slightly. He really was quite pleased that she seemed to be taking the effort in getting him to trust her. Though, of course, no effort really needed to be made.
“If I do, I will pay for your breakfast. Deal?”

Lanyon chuckled, locking his eyes to hers briefly. Oh, how he hoped that she wouldn't laugh! It was probably ridiculous really, for him to think such a thing. Aurora should have as much freedom to laugh as she liked. But... it was just something that made him want her not to.
He wasn't going to let her pay for his breakfast - or even her own, for that matter - if she laughed. It didn't matter, in all honesty, whether she found his first name as humorous as others seemed to (it had truthfully taken years for Hastie himself to find anything wrong with it - but when he did he had simply joined in with any laughter, as he did personally think it a very silly name. Especially for a Doctor - though, as a pediatrician, it didn't really matter too much how silly his name was - and it could even be hidden by his title), but there was just that something there. Still there.
And he couldn't quite place what it was.

Lanyon was careful to avoid accepting the deal, continuing the conversation with what he should probably have simply said in the first place - to avoid now looking like what he presumed was a complete and utter idiot.
"My name's Hastie Noah Lanyon."

Surprisingly enough, the man had only ever thought his middle name to be out of place. It just didn't seem to fit correctly, for some reason. And, however odd his first and last names were, it was always the 'Noah' he would find the strangest. More often than not, he would also question why his parents hadn't chosen to simply name him 'Noah' - perhaps just switched the first and middle around.
Though one thing was definitely certain in regards to his name. He had never met anybody with the same one.

"You know, on second thoughts, it's all right if you laugh." Hastie grinned at her, though was unable to stop from mentally frowning.
What? He hadn't meant that at all.
Oh god, he hoped she wouldn't laugh.

Though, above all, he thoroughly hoped that he wasn't just imagining this. Perhaps Aurora had absolutely no interest in him at all. He was quite sure that it was blatantly clear that he quite liked her (quite was obviously a ridiculous understatement), but didn't really care if it was so much so that there may as well be a neon sign flashing above his head.
What was truly surprising, was that Lanyon had to try extremely hard to stop himself glancing upward to check.

[laz]

He paused again, sipping from his mug. He was genuinely embarrassed about his name, she thought. It couldn’t really be all that bad. But, the way in which he labored over it made her so damn curious. Was he nervous because it was an unusual Scottish name? Or was it something so ridiculous that he was bullied all throughout his childhood and desperately feared her rejection. Perhaps both were true. And if he did fear her rejection that meant… her heart swelled in her chest.

She leaned in, her eyes softening as he finally spoke, "My name's Hastie Noah Lanyon."

She bit her lip lightly, hardly hearing his words as they passed his lips. Everything seemed to slow for a moment. She gazed deeply into his eyes; he was the most genuine and honest person she’d ever met in her life. Aurora had to sudden urge to reach her hand across the table and take his hand. There was just something about this guy that had her all kinds of twisted up inside. If she had her way she would just sit there for the next few hours staring into those eyes. That’s all she wanted; all she needed. Just looking at him filled her up with so much joy that she thought she might burst.

It was the strangest sensation; she hardly knew him, hell, she was only now learning his name. And yet, she couldn’t control the way her heart skipped and her lips curled when she was around him. He added, "You know, on second thoughts, it's all right if you laugh." which was probably because she hadn’t reacted to his utterance. Aurora took a deep breath and a smile overtook her lips. She didn’t laugh, she just grinned. He was the most adorable creature she had ever seen.

“ ‘Son of the austere man’” she took another sip from the coffee mug. “It’s British.” She bit her lip nervously again; it wasn’t exactly a typical response but, it’s the one she gave. Years of reading had taught Aurora many things; one of them was that characters often have names that mean something to do with their personality. Although, this doesn’t always apply but, that’s not the point. She’d stumbled upon “Hastie” in a book a few years back and casually looked up the name online. Hopefully, he wouldn’t find that terribly weird.

“You had me worried for a second there,” she smiled, “Hastie.” Aurora spoke it out loud just to hear how it sounded on her lips. She liked it. It was unique and soft; a bit like the guy who sat across from her now. “It suits you.” She grinned in her cup as she took another sip. She meant the comment in the most endearing way possible and as she continued to stare into his eyes that desire to hold his hand washed over her again. Thankfully, two platefuls of food arrived on the table and prevented her from doing something potentially embarrassing.

[DR. HASTIE LANYON]

He didn't really want to pull away. If it was possible, or allowed, or just not a-bit-weird-to-do-so, he could quite possibly stay like that until the end of forever. But it wasn't any of those things (as far as he knew), and so Hastie reluctantly leaned back in his seat, grip tightening slightly on the mug of coffee.
Her reaction was a positive one, really. She hadn't laughed, only grinned. And he was quite certain that she wasn't doing so because of his name - which put him in a very good mood indeed. Lanyon was unable to suppress the urge (even if he had wanted to) to grin straight back.

" 'Son of the austere man', It's British."
The Doctor let out a light chuckle (it was far too near to a giggle for his usual liking, but of course Lanyon didn't notice), just a little bit disbelieving at first. This certainly wasn't the response he had expected, though of course he wasn't going to say that he didn't like it. At least she hadn't laughed, as promised.
As promised...

Oh blimey. He was on the verge of blushing.

Quickly lifting his cup to take another sip of coffee (though he ended up never actually drinking it, just resting the rim against his lips for a moment as he thoughts desperately of something to respond with), Hastie shuffled slightly as he became aware that he still hadn't looked away from her eyes.

"Am I allowed to ask how you know that?" He spoke the words with a laugh, mind elsewhere as always.

And he was quite sure he hadn't blinked, either.
In fact, now that he thought about his, Hastie's eyes seemed to be somewhat fixed in place. Stuck, somehow. But not trapped, for they were comfortably settled.
He was also becoming aware that he was over-thinking the situation far too much.

Damn nervous habits.

“You had me worried for a second there, Hastie."
Lanyon coudn't help but grin at that. In fact, he found himself recently unable to do anything but grin at a lot of things. Especially when those things were mentioned by Rory. Especially around Rory. Especially now.
"It suits you."

Hastie Lanyon was then allowed to duck his head, unwillingly breaking eye contact as a plate was set before him, and an identical one in front of Rory. Lanyon bit his lip as he stared at the food, not really looking at what was there.
Because Hastie Lanyon had, at that precise moment, blushed.
Ridiculously so.

[laz]

Her eyes flickered from her hands to his face. She loved the way his eyes flickered whenever he smiled. It was one of the reasons she couldn't stop looking at him. Usually, she found her gaze darting around the background behind a person or off to the side; anywhere but their face. But, there was something calming about Hastie's pale blue eyes and constant smile that shed any piece of doubt or inhibitions that she normally had. For once, Rory felt at ease. It wasn’t as if her walls were crumbling down; it was as if she had never had walls in the first place. She felt… safe.

Hastie smiled again when she awkwardly defined his name, asking, “Am I allowed to ask how you know that?” She bowed her head a little bit, biting her lip, and glancing back at him bashfully. Rory opened her mouth to answer but, two plates appeared before them. She casually thanked the waiter and picked up a fork. Her stomach growled and her mouth watered as the spicy scent of the meal wafted to her nose. “You can ask. I’m just not going to tell you.” She gave him a mischievous smile before scoping up some Chirico and onions onto her fork.

She closed her eyes as she chewed; she was either desperately hungry or this was the best thing she’d ever eaten. As she opened her eyes again she could see the blush coming to his cheeks. God, he was just too adorable. “I’m a closet bookworm.” she admitted. “My dad used to read stories to me at bedtime and he would always tell me these little anecdotes about places or people we read about. So, one night we were reading a novel and one of the characters was named Hastie. And he told me, the Hastie was a British name meaning son of the austere man. I have to admit I was a bit more curious about what austere meant at the time but…” she trailed off, taking a forkful of egg and carefully placing it in her mouth.

Rory never spoke of her father. It was too sore of a subject to bring up casually. She took a moment to think about it; had she really felt comfortable to bring him up in front of a complete stranger? She shook it from her mind, figuring that Hastie wasn’t a stranger or at least she didn’t want him to be. “So you are from Scotland, right? Are you’re parents here too? Or do they still live across the pond?” She took a sip of her orange juice, no longer aware of the pain beginning to prickle at her fresh wound. No, all of her attention was on those big blue eyes.

[DR. HASTIE LANYON]

Having not previously realised just how hungry he actually was (continuous shifts at the Hospital took their toll, eventually), Lanyon tucked into the food presented with an eager grin. As expected - Rory had used the words 'best in the city', and despite seeing them displayed in the window of every other cafe in New York, they sounded extremely trustworthy when she spoke them - the 'Chirico and onions' was nothing but marvelous.
He would definitely be attempting to remember the route here, at a later point.
In fact, as Hastie lept his eyes fixed (certainly hoping that his constant gaze wasn't uncomfortable) on Aurora, sat at the other side of the table, he rather liked to think that maybe, maybe he wouldn't have to.

“You can ask. I’m just not going to tell you.”
Usually, when the Doctor grew distracted (much as he was currently doing by her eyes), he could tend to lose any sense of the world around him. But instead of floating around like untethered clouds, every word she said was absorbed by his current fog of a brain (in this situation, he didn't seem to mind the haze).
“I’m a closet bookworm.”
Delighted, this was something like what would cause Lanyon's ears to perk up if he were somehow a puppy. He had always loved literature, and through University had been determined to squeeze in if just a little bit of reading time between his studies. Nowadays, he rarely had any space in which to do the same, but the information had now persuaded him to pick up a book as soon as possible.
“My dad used to read stories to me at bedtime and he would always tell me these little anecdotes about places or people we read about. So, one night we were reading a novel and one of the characters was named Hastie. And he told me, the Hastie was a British name meaning son of the austere man. I have to admit I was a bit more curious about what austere meant at the time but…”
Not able to stop smiling as he listened intently to her speech, the man couldn't help but think what similarities his childhood had held to hers. Though it had been his mother the one to read to him, as his father concentrating mainly on passing along every possible medical skill he knew to the boy. Even now, Hastie wasn't sure if he had told him everything - but any niggling thoughts were always temporarily ceased by the memory of Mr. Lanyon sincerely confirming that he had in few of his last breaths.

His head cocked to the side as she trailed off. Being aware of every word meant that he was also very aware when she stopped talking. Settling for waiting patiently until she wanted to continue, Hastie continued to transport forkfulls of the Chirico-and-something to his mouth. It really was delicious.

“So you are from Scotland, right? Are you’re parents here too? Or do they still live across the pond?”
The Doctor's hand paused temporarily as his brain worked in an attempt to process the questions. The first was an easy one to answer - Lanyon had originally been born in Bath, but, yes, had spent many of his years in Scotland. The second also along the same lines. No, they were not here too. And the third? Well, they were still across the pond, anyway.
He settled the fork down on the plate, cradlign his mug of coffee between two hands again.

"I was born and raised in England, actually, until I was twelve. Then we moved to Scotland, yes. So that's the reason my accent's a little bit muddled at times." Chuckling in accompaniement, the man took a light sip of his coffee, index finger tapping thoughtfully against the mug.
"My parents have passed away," Hastie silently shunned himself for bringing up such a topic, but after the words left his lips he decided he may as well continue. Though he would be leaving Holly out of it, for the moment. The truth would out at some point - but ideally not until she asked about the wedding ring in his wallet.
"It's one of the reasons I moved here, actually." He shot a lopsided smile her way, just-a-little-bit lost in her eyes.