First Date: Order dinner for the chara above

Cyrus isn't even sure how he had gotten into this predicament. His stomach is too full to recount the past events that brought him here, all of his energy focused on digesting the food already in his stomach. He's eaten everything that had been given to him, all of it having been am expensive rarity for the man. Everything, that is, except for any tomatoes. He doesn't have time for fresh fruit and vegetables, and he had forgotten how much he dislikes tomatoes. Even so, there was an incredible abundance of food for him to eat besides tomatoes. 

Why is he being fed so much? Why is it all of such a high quality? Why can't he stop eating!? If it hadn't been for the good food, Cyrus would've abandoned his so-called date a long while ago. He's like a wild animal that has been tamed with a treat.

Although, he's struggling. As Sol raises his arm, Cyrus blanches. He doesn't even know what lobster thermometer and rice friend shrimp are! But, there's no doubt he will eat it. In all of his years of being an unstoppable hunter, being wined and dined is what will be his undoing.

^{Congrats Sol you have successfully destroyed Cyrus by giving him something other than instant noodles and frozen dinners}

eadie

Sol admits he might have a bit of a predicament, here.
When he originally set out on this date with Cyrus, he hadn't planned on digging too deep into his wallet. But this marks the fourth course so far, and truthfully, he's curious to see how many more rounds the other boy will accept.
It's not often that Sol gets to take someone so mysterious, so interesting out for dinner. The mask the blond boy is adorned with, the sword on his back - those are his primary fixations, but he can't help but be mildly entranced by his soft-looking face and piercing ruby gaze. Something about this boy... I want to know more!

He can't help but stare, barely touching his own plate himself. He doesn't even think he's hungry anymore. Yet, when the waitress walks by again, he raises his sleeved arm once more to flag her down.

"Ma'am, ma'am! Could I get the lobster thermidor, with a side of rice pilaf and your fried shrimp?"

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RosyWindFox - heya, just so you know, this is an in-character game! you should be posting with the character that is responding!
as there isn't a character attached to your post, i'm gonna go ahead and respond to the person above you. if you would like to edit your post with a character, i will be happy to give you a response as well! it's just difficult for anyone who wants to post after you to, well, reply, if you don't have a character attached to your post!

-

Sol tilts his head with curiosity at the gentleman across from him, staying quiet in favor of observing his patterns, his pink eyes wide and expressive as he drinks him in. The attitude and chattiness of Fitzgerald intrigues him. Normally, in these sorts of situations, Sol was the one running his mouth and making a scene, but he is more than happy to let Fitzgerald dominate the conversation. The change of pace is welcome, for him - having to carry the weight of conversation in most situations can be such a bore!

Patiently, Sol waits for the other to settle down, rhythmically turning and twirling a sugar packet in one hand while his head rests on his other. The amount that he was able to figure out about this man in the past few minutes, from his body language to his choice of words, is honestly quite scary - or would be, were he not already very used to reading people in this way. I wonder if there's anything more to him, he ponders, finding himself a little disappointed in himself for now being bored, but optimistic nonetheless.

When Fitzgerald places his order for the both of them, Sol doesn't move or visibly react; in fact, at this point, he looks more like he's about to fall asleep. In all actuality, however, he is quite awake! The proximity of himself to the cafe's windows is just casting a harsh glare, now, mildly aggravating his photophobia and causing his eyelids to droop. That, and he tends to get lost in thought when there isn't anything of interest going on in front of him.
At the very least, he doesn't protest the other ordering for him. Had he any problems with anything on the menu, he would not have agreed to meet at this particular cafe in the first place.

"Hmmmmm," is Sol's reply when Fitzgerald questions him. He flutters his lashes shut and gracefully tucks a few strands of white hair back, tugging down at his mask to reveal a soft smile. After a brief pause, he continues.
"I would be inclined to agree with you! I must say, you truly do have good taste."
He lets the other take credit for the choice of venue, despite having been the one to subtly plant the suggestion in his mind in the first place, and returns to his thoughts.

I may be a firm believer in seeing things through to the end before making a judgment call, but I have a feeling that I won't be seeing this one again. Oh well, I suppose I should try to learn as much as I can, in that case!

Not too long after, his order arrived. Somehow, it looked both appetizing and unappetizing at the same time. What an accomplishment!

Fitzgerald, as he had demanded like the stupid sweet tooth that he existed to be, was in a cafe with whom he suspected as his blind date. Regardless of whether this was true or not, they had such a mysterious air around them, one that made him tilt his head and raise his brow at them. It seemed that they were total opposites: Fitzgerald being the loud, obnoxious party animal, and this fellow being more inclined to staying reserved while also making each word they said was succinct. It's almost admirable, in a way, the youth thought to himself while leaning back against his seat.

Of course, there were the commonalities that the two shared as well. The young man could count on his fingers at least a few traits that they both possessed, such as their disdain for personal questions and their love for all things cute and fluffy. Alas, this almost led to disaster when they had previously tried asking him about the presence of loved ones at home, and the aristocrat almost burst into tears as he thought of... Guess what... His dog. He did genuinely love his precious pooch, but without further context, his reaction and answer just made him look like a fool. Not that he expected the other party to understand this, but...

Whatever.

He looked up at the waiter with a pout when he saw the fellow approaching, at once ceasing whatever chatting he had with his intended conversation partner in favor of beckoning them over with a "yoo-hoo" and a wave of his hand. Fucking show-off. Fitzgerald seemed so infinitely proud of his charisma at that moment that he didn't feel the need to replicate any of that, instead sighing and looking over at the napkin and utensils while waiting for the waiter's arrival.

"Oh, finally," the youth grunted while looking into the waiter's eyes, probably trying to deliver a death stare while also showing off his inherent aristocratic superiority. He brushed some dust off the table before holding his hand up on his chin. Tracing his fingers on the patterns on the tabletop, he added more delicately, "You know... The service here is a bit slow... Do you mind speeding things up a bit? You know how I'm a busy man with a tight schedule..." His eyes traveled to the white-haired individual to see if they'd agree before looking back at the waiter.

"But, that asides," Fitzgerald stated firmly with a huff, "I'll consider this impatience mutual and get this damn order with. I know you're just itching to serve your next batch of customers." With a roll of his eyes, he requested with an almost mocking flutter of his eyes, "How about... Can you provide me one of those chocolate milkshakes? The ones with the chocolate syrup, the chips, everything you have in that chocolate cabinet of yours. I want your confectioner to work their ass off for this order." With a giggle, he then waved his hand aside as if he was bluffing; unfortunately, knowing Fitzgerald for five seconds would lead one to realize that this young man was totally serious.

"And... For the charming fellow sitting across from me," he continued with that same obnoxious coy tone from earlier, "I have a feeling that they could use one of those pastry cream-filled eclairs. Make them as sweet as possible. Cover them in that chocolate syrup if you can. I want this thing to be drenched in flavor... And yes, I can pay for all the extras. Everything, even. Don't worry about the additional expenses, sir." Finally, he was done. Fitzgerald gave the waiter a wink and a quick farewell, "Thank you, and toodles!", before sighing and leaning back against his seat and asking the other party, "So, enjoying the atmosphere here so far? I have to admit that it's absolutely impeccable for a blind outing..."

OKAY. TIME FOR A FOLLOW-UP. rest in piece these asshole men.

It was a fancy restaurant, way too fancy for the two occupants. It was coated in golds and browns, with a giant chandelier to compliment them. In the back, at one of the circle booths, was Taka and his guest. His arms were spread out on the back of his side of the booth, one wavering leg over the other, and a shark smile on his face. "Ya got a lotta guts ta try'n break into my building, kid," Taka started. "Normally I'd feed rats like ya to my dogs, but there's somethin' about you I like. Ya got... confidence. And skill. Ya made it through a few of my locks before my guys got to ya. That's skill, alright." He leaned forward, clamping his hands together. "I'll cut ta the chase, Lockpick, I want ya workin' for me. You ain't got much to do anyways, yeah? You'd fit right in with my group."
The waiter came before a decision could be made, setting down several plates filled with fancy food. Taka leaned back in his seat once more and waved a hand dismissively. "Take your time'n eat some food before ya go makin' life-changing decisions." He looked at the food then up at the waiter. "The hell is this, anyway?"
"Turkey Bolognese Polenta Nests, sir," the waiter explained. When the mobster gave him a curious (and slightly offended) stare, he cleared his throat. "Simply put, sir, cornmeal with cheese and turkey."
"Huh. I ain't ever gettin' used to these menus," Taka muttered before smirking at Wren. "This restaurant belongs ta me, ya know. Several of 'em. It's a perk for workin' for me. Ya get fancy ass food for free."

Like with his last trip here, Taka rested both arms across his side of the booth. Brown was on hell of an interesting lady, he had to give her that. He'd heard plenty of rumors, some saying she was a monstrous beast that ate men whole, some saying she turned into a wolf every full moon, and some simple as day murderer rumors. Glad to see he wasn't dining with a dog, and by the way she talked, that last bit was the truth. She seemed proud of her deeds, too, by the way she showed off the empty room. Red eyes glanced at the empty tables. Yeah, he was sure her being her contributed to them being to scared to dine in. He was sure his own presence didn't help.
Suddenly, she slammed on the table to get the waiter's attention. Taka raised an eyebrow at her and let her order for the both of them. When the waiter scurried off in fear, she turned her attention to him once more with their previous topic. Taka gave her a shark smile. "I asked ya hear because of them rumors," he admitted. "I think ya know that by now. But it's interestin', ain't it? How much fear and rumors can warp what people think of ya? I got a few urban legends goin' around about me too. People see my scars and think of all sorts'a ways they came about. No matter how crazy it gets, it all ends the same way, with me bein' a monster. Guess I wanted ta have a chat with someone like me," he snickered.
"Monster ta monster."

   - oh hell yea!! I love this follow-up.... I can definitely see a solidarity dynamic between these two, and... I love that tbh.... :")))

The real shame about being in a restaurant was that Brown had little to no control over the food. Though, that wasn't really a "shame" for anybody except herself, given that... Well... Some of the legends surrounding her did involve with her tampering with the food she prepared. "Delicious but deadly" was a common description for her food according to those tales, and Brown found that a particularly catchy tune as she hummed to the man sitting across from her.

Calling him a "date" was a bit of a stretch, since he was technically married, but... He was indeed handsome. And powerful. Place special emphasis on "powerful." Brown thought of herself as honored to be even dining with a man who wielded such considerable influence, one that almost rivaled hers in terms of infamy, and had the flickering hope that this dinner could serve as the background for a favorable political negotiation. She, after all, could use those connections for leverage later on...

"So," the woman spoke to him calmly, while holding her head up with her hands, "it still puzzles me as to why you would invite me, out of all people over for some food, but..." A giggle came out of her before she fluttered her eyes at him. "I can see this going somewhere. Politically, of course. The rumors of myself killing a man, or several, may be ambiguous at best, but think of the repute... People already fear me, cower underneath me whenever I come. Can you see?" Brown stretched an arm out to indicate the completely empty tables surrounding theirs. "I basically destroyed the dinner rush in the restaurant just by being here, you know!" the woman ringed heartily, "Nobody likes to mess with a figure who has so much distortion surrounding her that the truth is impossible to find, dear..."

Such merriment temporarily came to a stop when Brown saw a waiter pass by, and she slammed her hand down onto the tablecloth as some weird, immensely impolite way of summoning them over. What the fuck? She gave the poor waiter a scowl as they scurried over to the table, though she did shoot the mafioso a glance to see if he was paying attention. Hopefully he wasn't, because Brown's gesture likely made them just one wrong move away from being banned from this damn place for life.

"Oh, do not worry about the little punch," the woman cooed to the waiter almost mockingly, "It was just to get your attention, but... Yes, I am ready to order now..." A smile was pursed onto her lips as she assumed a more formal posture, a stark contrast from the slumped shoulders and casual look that she had adopted just minutes earlier. "I can take some... Lobster thermidor, please... And make the lobster medium-rare. No vegetables allowed. I want the damn meat, and only the damn meat." Watch your profanity?

She glanced over at the man before quickly interjecting before he could offer his input, "As for the lovely man seated across from me... He can probably tolerate some escargot roasted with garlic and herb butter!" This was said with way, way too much enthusiasm. Probably because the woman had the feeling that the dish would be so bizarre that he'd be thrown off, and the escargot would go to her... Goodness, she loved escargot and its decadent richness. Though at the same time, she did want to make this entire ordeal fair for later on... Her eyes narrowed as she watched the waiter scribble down the order then take off.

 With a sigh, Brown offered coolly, "So... Back to the topic from earlier... Fame is a weird thing, isn't it? I must wonder, dear sir... Has it ever gotten into your head before? It is a cruel question to ask, but... Perhaps we can stir up some discussion while we wait... Wouldn't that be a damn wonderful thing?"

it's time for a follow-up. rip Aaron again wheeze.

The waiter fidgeted nervously as Nana perused the menu, squinting at the options. It was clear that he was afraid of the oni, and his coworkers were not much different--they could be seen clustered near the kitchen, shooting furtive, anxious glances over at the table.

"Let's see," Nana said, for the third time. "No bugs?"

"We don't have any bugs," the waiter said. Again.

Nana clicked his tongue and flipped the page. "And you don't serve vermin..." The waiter looked close to fainting.

Nana closed his menu decisively and handed it to the waiter. "I will have seven cheeseburgers, each with an alarming amount of onions. I want you to be uncomfortable putting those onions on there. I want the chef to be like "hey, isn't this too many onions?" and then keep putting more on."

"Okay," the waiter squeaked.

"And for the kid--" Nana paused, thinking. What did human children eat? Bugs? No, they'd already determined that wasn't an option here. Something for kids... "This guy," Nana said, gesturing to the teen he'd roped into joining him for dinner on the basis that he might "need a human shield" while eating, whatever that meant--"he'll have the pasketti with chocolate sauce."

"Sp...spaghetti with--" The waiter stammered, starting to write the order down.

"Pasketti! With chocolate sauce. Thank you, that will be all." Nana clasped both pairs of hands together on the table. "I tell you, this place has the best service. I mean, it's no Denny's... But you ask for a grand slam? They REALLY slam it. All over the table! Bam!" Nana tore open a sugar packet and poured it directly into his mouth. He crunched on the sugar as he spoke. "The pasketti here is good. Made of real skettis!" The waiter hurried past, and Nana's foot shot out to trip him. "Ha, good old Jeremy. Always tripping over nothing. Hey, you gonna eat your sugar packets?"

(reserved for reply? :J Nana will eat anything. Anything.)

Dudley smiled from across the booth. He'd found Nana at the beach with all the crabs, but instead of throwing them back into the water he was... well, he wasn't sure what he was doing! They were all surrounding him while he talked. Something about a powerful army? Either way, there were a bunch of crabs there. And, as a crab himself, Dudley felt obligated to go there too.
And now here they were! At Red Lobster! He couldn't remember exactly what lead to this happening, but he recalled feeling hungry after seeing so many crabs. He would've eaten one right then and there if they hadn't come here. Or had he already? He didn't know!
"The crab legs here are really good!" Dudley blabbed. "And the rolls are really good too, but I love the crabs! Even the lobster tails! I ordered a bunch of each! If you can't eat them it's okay, I'll take care of it!"

OUCH. this is a bit long. I'm going to spoiler this for the sake of making this post easy to scroll past. :")))

Smithson is now related to Jared, 19... jk jk but like. it's totally IC for him to not be able to read in anything besides English, so ty gala for this idea hgsdfvgdsfv-

here's your follow-up....

This wasn't really so much a date as it was a "thank you" to the older gentleman for saving her butt in a sticky situation earlier, but nonetheless here Ume was at one of her favorite restaurants with Smithson. She glanced over, noticing that he was having trouble reading the menu and unfortunately, it had no accompanying pictures to show him what exactly the food was. And then, oh doy, it hit the young girl. He didn't know how to read Italian! As she was about to ask him if he'd like her to read the menu to him, the waiter arrived, asking the two what they would like.

"Um...I think I'll go with the pizza margherita." She answered (in Italian, of course), knowing you can't go wrong with pizza! Probably. Oh well. If he has a problem with it, it's not him that's forking over the cash for it.

Maribelle didn't go on outings such as this, and really, she hadn't been to a restaurant in quite some time. Not since she was living with Otto, anyhow... Could this even be called a date, actually? Oh, whatever happened to poor Zhilan?

The girl eased back in her seat, simultaneously looking both bored out of her mind and sad. She hadn't been listening to Ume either, it seemed, as she busied herself with staring down the aisle of booths, every now and then glancing out the window. She fidgeted a lot. She fidgeted too much. And, when the waiter approached them, she initially grunted at their question. How rude! But, when they stood their, tapping their pen impatiently against their chin, she perked up, dragged out of her thoughts.

"Oh..." She cleared her throat, and then glanced at Ume. "You just want the pajata?" Without even waiting for a response, she faced the server, and told them, "Give us both rigatoni con la pajata, and... I don't know if you even drink-- does this place let me drink?" She was old enough to drink back home, but... here..? Could she even have a sip of wine? She hesitated and crossed her arms. She remained sulking in her seat, as she then forced out, "Just give us pajata, yes, and with... give her sparkling water, I just want, uh... the... raspberry iced tea..."

Whether Maribelle was going to pay for this or not was up for debate, as despite being a noble, she was quite broke.

As she watched the waiter scurry off back to the kitchens, she finally spoke to Ume-- probably for the first time ever during this entire dinner. "I still need to learn Italian, or work on learning it. I don't have the books or the lessons for it back home, so I guess I'm entirely on my own there." she grumbled, "You probably know this shit way better than I do. I just... I just know the food..." Don't say the shit word. This is too nice of a restaurant to say the shit word in.

"I just know you like pasta, I guess." she added with a shrug, "And... fashion, I guess, and I do too, I just... wouldn't wear a skirt like that." What's that supposed to mean? "Or, the entire dress in general, with the... the sleeves like that... I mean, I guess you look pretty, but I don't like it."

Good fucking luck, Ume...

HERE IS A FOLLOW-UP.

  "Say, is this the kind of place you like to go to? It's rare that we ever actually went somewhere," Lucien remarked with a smile, rather unfazed by any glowering. He might have been used to it. "You remind me a bit of... two people. Yes. Neither of them are the type to show up at a simple little restaurant. But- you were here first, do you like the sea? And do forgive me- I could pay, if you'd like."

  He'd been the one to seat himself across the table from her though, despite the fact he could have chosen to sit elsewhere. Such was the curse of a social being. It could have been worse, he figured. He elected to ignore the thoughts that said otherwise, anyway. 

  "I see you've gotten a drink already. Someone else once mentioned something about a mint tea with honey to me... you would not have something to say about that, would you? Well... would be a bit rude to brush them off too..."

  Lucien did not seem to mind the fact that he was talking without stopping for anyone else to get a word in- perhaps calculated. If she was in fact similar to the two he had in mind, he could bear to keep it this way. He'd been glossing over the menus before him as he spoke. He figured he may as well not waste time... maybe he felt slightly threatened by her presence. Either way, he simply kept his sweetest, most disarming smile he could.

  "If you don't like this, then it's fine. Blame me, and order something else, not out of your own pocket, of course." And with that, he leaned back and waved a hand to catch some waiter's eye. To them, he said, "A rosemary salmon plate for her, then... the roasted duck. And a mint tea with some honey, if you would." 

  He glanced back toward her, where he thought he'd seen the remnants of a cherry stalk in her empty drink. He figured a sweet fish would not be a poor guess- and it wasn't like he had much to lose anyway. He was probably the only one in this place not ordering seafood...

how cute,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, heres a little follow up.........