First Date: Order dinner for the chara above

Posted 4 years, 9 days ago (Edited 4 years, 9 days ago) by damascus

Your character is on a first date with the character above. Your job is to order dinner for them. Keep it simple or make it weird! Get creative with your orders.

1. First, post ordering for the character above you. *Please do not be intentionally antagonistic: i.e. ordering pork for a known Muslim character, etc. I'm counting on you guys to be respectful and use common sense for this one.*

2. Next, the character below you posts and orders your character's dinner.

3. Respond in your existing post (1.) to the meal that you've been presented with!

The idea is for it to go like this:

1. "I'm first"! // "Ew, what is this "haggis" stuff? Sheep? I could never eat a sheep, they're so fluffy!"

2. "And as for my date, they'll be having the haggis with tatties." // "I love pasta, how did you know? You DID read my Tinder bio!"

3. "I'd like the steak, and for the gentleman, your largest bowl of pasta, please." // "Is... is this even cooked? Whatever, I'm starving..."

etc...

Rules

-- It is advised to at least look at the character's profile first.
-- Feel free to describe the ambiance of the date, how it's going, how the couple met, whether it's a blind date or they're old friends, etc.

-- Claiming posts is allowed, as long as you edit it within six (6) hours. Please do not sandwich posts--allow three people to post before you go again. (This rule voids if the thread has stalled for 24 hours.)

-- Once again just as a general "duh" warning: No racism, homophobia, transphobia, xenophobia, etc. Bigotry gets you banned. I will try to keep an eye on this thread, but once again... be respectful and use common sense before posting.

-- Please keep it SFW as this is an all-ages thread.

First poster gets a free dessert! :P (IC glitch pwease ignore, start with the first poster!)

Ace X. Scholl PicklePantry

Ah, to be young and in love. It seemed like lately there were more and more young people going out on dates! That was great! One such young one was Lucien, sitting across from him from a small, round table.
"So you want to learn how to date, huh?" the waiter beamed. "Good! I'll teach you the basics! Eh, I'd rather call this more of a mentoring than a mock date, though. But! You already have a good personality. You're always smiling, always cheerful, and you've got a nice attitude. That's good, it makes people feel comfortable around you! And you seem to be good at starting conversation, which, let me tell you, can be a rare trait with people," he laughed before motioning towards the snacks and food on their table.
"Next is food. If you're going to order for your date, you're saying you know them enough to know what they want, and that's going to be a LOT of pressure. If it's someone you've known, then yeah, you may know very well what they want. But if it's someone you barely know but are still set on ordering for, start with basic stuff. Like what I have here. Now, my cafe doesn't offer much in terms of dinner, but we serve sandwiches which can be eaten practically any time of the day. We've got your basic BLT to some fancy ones." He gave a playful wink. "Now if I were to order for someone like you? A cheerful guy trying to help his family out... You'd maybe want that basic sandwich, the ham and cheese. Cheap, simple, tasty, probably reminds you of home." He leaned back and held his hands up. "But that doesn't mean it's automatically you're favorite. It's best to always end the order with something like, "Does that sound good?" If you get it wrong then at least you can adjust. And since we're at a cafe, you'll want to drink something only a cafe like mine would have!" He gestured to a latte with a picture of a heart drawn in the foam. "We specialize in latte art here, so it'd be great to show it off to your date. It'd make them feel special, and they're tasty too."
Ace smiled wide. "I hope this info was of any help. I feel like you've already got the gist of it down, so you should be more than fine on your own! Good luck!"

Ace the entire time KEKEKEK

Otto Alkaev II Vapor

Otto, of course, went above and beyond when it came to Ace. He found himself admiring the other man, even if he was absolutely not admiring him back, and so he offered to take him out. As friends, he reassured the other party, once they arrived at the all-too-extravagant tavern. They took a room off to the side for themselves, away from most of the bustle within the main dining area, though some of it could still be heard. A glass, candlelit chandelier hovered above them. The table was blanketed by a white sheet. Otto was sending choice looks Ace's way.

He just liked redheads.

"You were right when you mentioned that I should take a break. A break with a lover is something that appeals quite well to me in particular." He leaned back in his seat, taking in a short inhale, and then puffing it out lazily. "And, as you also said... love is a remedy for many things. It's a shame that not everyone can see it that way."

Shut the fuck up, old man.

"So..." He trailed off, thank the gods, when he noticed a waiter passing by them. He lifted his hand, flagging the woman down. He leaned in to murmur to her, "Cheese and asparagus plates for the both of us, please, my dear. He would also like the roasted lamb. Make it pink, and bring it with rosé champagne..." He trailed off as the waitress turned away from the two of them, jotting down the order.

With that, Otto returned to the other man, and barked out a warm laugh. "Don't worry. I'll pay for everything. What kind of man would I be if I didn't? Goodness knows, I'm not sure if you should even pay for all of this, considering your... what? You work as a barista? Ah, I've not been to a cafe in quite some time..."

"..But, I do hope you will like this dinner, since it is coming out of my own pocket. I hope you like wine, at least." The man then scoffed. "It's so good to leave home, anyhow... As I said, I've been so busy lately. Busy, busy, busy..."

[i was forced to change his icon please don't kill me.]

otto is going to die tonight, here's a follow-up

Still such a pleasant atmosphere, Otto found it to be, though he certainly had enough wine by now that he was drunk, even if only slightly. He gave Seung-Cheol a wide smile, but one that wavered. Alas, it wouldn't be so easy for him to begin waggling his tongue-- or, at least, on such matters that the younger man was likely expecting. Instead, he brought his next glass of wine to his lips and took a long sip that at this point seemed arduous for him to attempt. He didn't love himself when he was drunk and incapable of proper thinking, but right now, well... He felt at peace.

Except for when he thumbed at his face. His vision blurred at its corners, though he had yet to give in.

"I'm pleased that you feel the same way, dear sir." Otto responded, his voice a polite coo. "Though, whether or not I might be indifferent towards you later depends on the actions of tonight, yes? Which means you shouldn't bore me." The man barked out a laugh, and then pressed his back against his seat.

"The same goes for a partnership..." He fell silent shortly after. Seung-Cheol's mannerless display did not go unnoticed, as the lord eyed the other suspiciously, before his eyes fell before the meal offered to him. A good, roast duck. Deciding not to mention the other's sudden unrefinement, he plucked his fork from the table and began to poke at the duck's golden-brown skin with a hum. "I suppose," he remarked, "I think I prefer pinot noir with duck over merlot, admittedly, but you've excellent taste regardless. And, I have to thank you... My gratitude is paramount, you see. You've been both a gracious host and a gracious guest."

Otto stabbed his fork into the well-cooked flesh. He looked back up at Seung-Cheol.

"We can split it." he said, "And, though you might want to pay, just remember that I have enough money to spend. I would be happy to tend to most of the costs... Goodness knows the wine isn't cheap." Another chuckle. This time, his free hand covered his mouth, concealing both the laugh and a brief yawn.

He didn't waste much time before diving right back in.

"So," he began, "This partnership you've proposed... What would you bring to it?"

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Walker (Human) kafkaesque

Walker couldn't exactly do much except knead her fingers against her palms as she eyed the younger man. Technically, they were supposed to be here to discuss the contents of that letter, one mentioning an ore. Or... Something along those lines. She bit down onto her lip while glancing off to the side, her brows knitting together while the woman attempted to recall what exactly it suggested. Was this the one meeting they were supposed to have? Besides, they did both arrange for this to be made; it wasn't like they'd have anything else to do if one suddenly adjourned the meeting.

However, even with such a major event planning to precipitate, she supposed that she had to make small talk to ease both parties into it (though mainly herself).

"I... I have to thank you for your kindness back at my house," the woman remarked with a sigh. Her voice was unusually gentle for someone who was used to being so stoic, but even then, there was that airy tone that caused her to shift in her seat. "And the playing of the lute, too. It is a remarkable instrument, and even more so when plucked with the right fingers." And as if on cue, her eyes drifted over to the man's digits, bony yet still well-defined. She really had no idea if they were the right build for a stringed instrument, but the matter was quickly dismissed in favor of more light comments. "I would love for you to visit my house more often, if only to play the lute for myself, or during parties. Though, of course, I do not want to burden you with such extraneous talk..."

She spotted a waiter pass by and was quick to call him over with a tap on the wooden table, as well as the gentlest wave of her hand. Whatever warmth the aristocrat showed to her companion faded as she eyed the waiter, whom she likely presumed as an inferior, though she wasn't cold by any means. Just closed off. The other party at least had the advantage of having prior knowledge of her; this waiter was a stranger to her, and so there was no need to be friendly. In fact, Walker could even argue that being friendly was actively harmful.

Once they arrived, the woman dipped her head before opining, "Oh, it is good that you are here right now. I was just going to start talking about the food." An empty titter left her mouth before she quickly covered it with her hand. Her eyes suggested a sense of unease as she looked over at the man, then at the waiter. "But... That asides, we are ready to order now. I assume that I will be responsible for the bills?" Her hand gently tapped against the table. "May I get the roasted squab with gooseberries and fennel salad, please? As for the man seated across from me, he can have the duck breast with the mint leaves and lemon-pepper mashed potatoes." She watched as the waiter notated the items, before giving them a nod and observing their departure. Then, it was back to talking. Goodness, this would be awkward.

As Walker faced the man, she couldn't help but ask, "By the way... What is so special about this ore you mentioned, sir? I do not think you mentioned it in your letter, but... Would it be like a fossil, or..." Her throat dried, and her words stilled. Whatever momentum she had from earlier was... Gone. "... Something else? I doubt we can negotiate much until the terms are set."

oh god. oh fuck. rip Walker tbh. a follow-up.

Immediately, Walker narrowed her eyes at the woman sitting across from her. This is the lady whom I was supposed to "marry" all that time ago, huh? it left a sour taste in her mind, given that she had to explain what had unfolded to her husband, when he asked her why she was late to the event; she winced just remembering how he looked at her with... Not anything irate or even indignant? Just something forlorn, as he couldn't bear to look at her in the eye. She knew that he thought he had no right to judge her - because it was outside of her control - but the aristocrat still found herself wondering nonetheless.

"I want to keep this short, because I know that my husband already thinks poorly of you," she grunted to the other fore-teller with a raised brow, "He would probably come after you if he saw you with me. Though I will give you mercy and not tell him of this... I think he would prefer me seeing other men over this. There is a reason, after all, why he refused to come along with me for this negotiation. Or conversation... I do not know..." The aristocrat laughed tautly before folding her hands together into a steeple.

She did raise a brow when she heard some noise, as well as the other party telling her that she had to go address something, but she said nothing. It was probably better that way anyway. Walker drew in a deep breath before giving her shoulders a shake.

Now she was left alone with her thoughts, and that was... Always an issue.

Her eyes were averted by the time the so-called issue was addressed, and she was so zoned out that she barely acknowledged the waiter that had arrived at their table. It was, indeed bizarre. Usually she'd be the one dealing with the orders herself, even on outings with her husband, but... This time was an exception. The somewhat faint reflection cast from the laminated wood was enough to draw in her interest, at least for a bit.

Walker snapped back into reality when the other party asked her something; it took her a moment, but eventually she answered, "Well... You see... My son... He is missing. He ran away from home a while ago, and nobody knows where he is. My husband and I hired a search party just to look for him, but-" She cut herself off, her voice suddenly becoming the slightest bit tense before she coughed into her sleeve. "- Nobody has found anything. And... I heard about your ability to tell the future, so here we are. Again, with great reluctance." She sighed and hummed to herself while the woman replied, because apparently she really had to be rude and not give a shit about other people's replies? Okay then.

However, what she did pick up on wasn't exactly encouraging. Her son, nowhere to be seen? That didn't make any sense. Something was wrong. With narrowed eyes, Walker turned to face the younger party before knitting her brows together.

"I can tell you are lying," she growled, "My son is somewhere, and you know it. Your powers give you such an ability, and to hide that from me is almost like perjury." Assuming that the middle-aged woman worked with law enforcement in the first place, but sure. "He could be hurt, in somewhere dangerous, or dead. I at least need closure. You do not help if all you do is just give me... Indecision, when I know you can do better." Her voice was initially angered, but it eventually softened with resignation as the woman let out a sigh. She was now quiet, and she didn't want to speak anymore.

It remained that silent for the rest of the dinner.

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Eclipse Constallis SpiritdragonRyuu

Eclipse sat in the chair opposite the green haired woman, he had made sure that all preparations for the meal was done ahead of time; he just hoped that she would enjoy this night with him. Entertaining and cheering up others was a way of life for the onyx skinned tiefling, however he wanted to make sure that everyone who shared his company left with a smile on their face. The room which they were currently in had black silk curtains which adorn the walls of the room as speckles of shiny gold weaved their way through the fabric, their star like appearance giving light to the room, imbued by Eclipse's own magic. The table cloth was also woven from a fine silk, it's colour imitating the purest of golds. The plates and cutlery before also had this golden colour to them in addition to small gems which had been carefully placed within the handles.

The pair sat there with their drinks, the bottom of the glass encased in gold and jewels in which the colours danced around the glass. It wasn't long before the food was brought out, platters of various meats, cheeses and fruits; all placed carefully on glittering trays of gold. He had specifically requested that goose was left off the menu for tonight. Beside them a gem encrusted bowl was placed holding a vast amount of salad, a mix of lettuce, spinach, tomatoes, cucumber and peppers. Smaller bowls of the same, though harbouring smaller crystals were place, their contents holding many types of sauces. Two gold and gem covered serving tray were placed down which had metal domes on top, this one holding warm pasta whilst the other had small meat based pastries which were hot out of the oven. Eclipse thanked the waiters and tipped them handsomely for their work.

"I hope this is to your liking and not too overwhelming, however I found that it would be indecent of me to merely limit you to a singular guess of your tastes on my part, so call this a good half way point." Eclipse said his voice carrying like a flowing creek. He raised his glass up to her and smiled. "Shall we?"

That was adorable ^.=.^

Follow Up:

Eclipse gave a charming smile at the woman in front of him as she hid behind her menu, he gave a soft chuckle. "No need to be shy about staring my dear, I don't exactly blend into my surroundings so I am use to it." He grinned. He listened to her explaining the yellow curry and the tea to him, as he did, he noticed that her eyes showed that her mind was racing about what she had said about not knowing what he would like. He had always been thankful for his abilities, both his magic and his observation skills. He gave a soft laugh. "There's no need to be upset with yourself for not knowing what I would like; people are complex whether they be human or otherwise, don't beat yourself up over it princess." He said with a wink. "Besides you have my utmost interest if you think so highly of the curry and the tea going well together, I am very eager to experience such a meal; besides I couldn't be more grateful that you took time out of your busy day to keep me company and order me a meal. But let it be known I will treat you out to a meal as well as a thank you."

He leant forward slightly "Anyway, it's nice to see a royal who has some daring to her when it comes to meals, not to mention you get bonus points for liking garlic, such wonderful addition to any meal or herbal remedy I say." He smiled happily before taking a sip from his drink. "So..." He said placing his drink back down. "...tell me about yourself, now I know that you have duties, as do we all, but I'm more curious about you....what sparks your heart with joy my dear, and of course, please don't feel pressured to answer something that makes you uncomfortable, and I am more than willing to answer any and all questions you may have for me."

Ennette PicklePantry

Ohh, a tiefling! The very word brought back memories of the one mysterious one that celebrated her birthday with her, a memory that easily made her swoon each and every day. And this man, he was just as handsome, it not more! Her eyes kept following his golden tattoos, the way they contrasted with his dark skin, it was so beautiful. Realizing she was staring, Ennette bristled in her seat and hid her face behind the menu. "Sorry!" she squeaked. Oh, stupid Ennette! Falling in love so easily? On the first date?! Ah, but what if this was it? Love at first sight, happening right now? What would their children look like...?
She squeaked again and bonked her menu against her head. Now's not the time to think such things! Focus!
"Ah, I'm not sure what exactly you would like," Ennette said with a shaky smile when she finally looked at Eclipse. What a horrible thing for a leader to say. You don't know?! You'll lead an entire country soon and can't even order someone a proper dinner? She gulped. "Th-The herbal tea here is very nice, though! And the curry I've had here is really great! Especially the yellow curry! I think it would go good with the tea, too."

Ennette stiffened, beads of sweat forming at her forehead. She was so cold, her hands were shaking! Every time Brown looked at her with those wolfish eyes she felt her heart stop for a second. The fear she felt, for her own LIFE, hit it's tipping point when she heard that word: grudge.
The princess cried out and hugged herself. She should have known! Oh, Brown was jealous! SHE wanted the kiss on the cheek! This wolf was nothing more than a lovesick puppy wanting her companionship, and she cruelly tossed it away! But look at what Brown did to make her feelings known, she made sure they were alone in a fancy restaurant-- in a romantic restaurant. And look! She ordered Ennette's favorite food: garlic (the pasta was a bonus). Surely only those that cared so much about her would know what food she enjoyed?
"I'm so sorry!" she sobbed into her hands. How could she do this? How could she be so oblivious to someone that only cared? Oh Ennette, you FOOL!

Brown (Human) kafkaesque

- dxfjhvgdfvdfjvds I love this tbh?? Ennette is so melodramatic in a charming way, and I actually feel bad for her since she's stuck with an asshole like Brown- :"))

"So," Brown started while giving the younger woman a sharp glare, "I heard you and my husband knew each other once." Wow! What a wonderful conversation starter!

She laughed bitterly before leaning back against her seat, not seeming to care about the fact that she was probably scaring the shit out of the other party right now. Her hawkish eyes traveled over to the fork as she hummed casually, "He was a wonderful man, was he not? Always so kind, easy to please... I heard you gave him a kiss on the cheek. He told me that a long time ago, when I was a young woman around your age. I bet you think I forgot that, and I would not blame you one bit."

"Nobody, after all, expects a housewife to hold a grudge."

The words were left to linger in the air, as they ought to be in the middle-aged woman's eyes, as the ambiance was finally able to be considered. In spite of the neoclassical columns, the baroque paintings, the atmosphere was surprisingly ominous. All the tables immediately surrounding the two women were empty, and even the diners located farther away ate with a hurried sense as they shot glances at the older woman. It was likely that they wanted to get this done with, so that they did not have to linger under the presence of a wolf, a potential cannibal for too long. Brown, of course, paid no such attention as she groomed herself and waited for the server; hopefully the other party could maintain the same attitude.

"Oh, there you are," she cooed to a fellow in an apron when they finally approached the table, "I thought you were a fucking coward like everyone else. How is everything going? Probably not too well, considering that you had the guts to see me." With a laugh, the woman leaned back against her seat and gave them a wave of her palm. "But yes, I will take the order now, even if both of us are noblewomen who know how to pay for food-" And with that, Brown gave the other party a dry look before coughing into her sleeve.

"I can take the lamb chops with butter, by the way. Make them medium rare, please. Leave them overcooked for more than a minute, and you will regret it." She grinned at them as they notated this, perhaps a little too hastily for someone of this caliber. "As for the woman seated across to me, she can have the garlic pasta with shrimp. And make sure to add extra garlic and cheese. I heard that it is usually bland without extras, anyway." With a scoff, she watched as the server nodded, then jotted down the order. Then, without really confirming anything, they skidded off to the kitchen. Pathetic.

With a sniff, Brown now turned to face the other party as she hummed, "So, back to the point. What I am telling you is that one should look unassuming, if only to make a fool out of others. Trust me; I know that for a fact, from personal experience." Particular emphasis was placed on the last phrase as she eyed the other party... Ominously.

*claps hands* time for... a (fucking god this is long fuck fuck fuck) follow-up... Roswell is playing a very, very dangerous game by leaning in like that.

also belated edit but I was listening to "what's new pussycat" on loop while writing this and it shows. I am so sorry.

As was expected for pretty much... All of their outings, Roswell had chosen the venue. Brown didn't mind that, because it would've been more awkward if she took him to a museum, and he spent more time making googly eyes at her than the actual exhibits. Still, as she looked over at him, she couldn't help but mourn the grey streaks that had been dusted black by coal, mostly because it gave off the impression that he was trying too hard to appear younger.

That, of course, didn't exactly give her the best impression as the woman ran her fingers through her hair and glanced off to the side. The restaurant was indeed like a middle ground; she couldn't see any paint chipping off the walls, but it was just... A little gaudy... On one corner, for example, there was a marble bust she could immediately recognize as just the slightest bit faux. Postmodern influence, she evaluated with a raised brow before sighing and folding her hands together.

"I suppose," she replied curtly, "At least one does not have to worry so much about the background rabble. I can hear my own words without having to yell, which is always a plus." Brown laughed crassly before leaning back against her seat. "I do wish the ambiance was a little quieter, though. I feel as if the music only serves as a distraction compared to everything else." She specifically meant the food and the decorations being sidelined, but... Roswell was free to take that how he wished.

Now focusing her attention back onto herself, the woman couldn't help but think, and that was a surefire way to let her get lost in her own thoughts. She wasn't exactly a daydreamer, but she also wanted to stay grounded. Floating up at any moment, let alone now, was going to make her pissed.

And hoo boy, did it do so.

Skinner would never do this, she reminisced quite bitterly, We almost always either ate at home, or at a party. And I usually ate the fucking leftovers the day after said party occurred. This better not be microwaved shit, or even the result of inconsistent firing on the stove's burners, or I'm going to choose where we go from now on. I already took a huge risk just giving up some of my control like that. I am not going to risk trying to remember all that, least of all now. I don't even care if he doesn't give a shit about the fossils; I just-

Thank goodness she snapped back into reality when the Crow brought up the painting. Almost sighing out in relief, Brown looked up at the ceiling, beholding the three greyhounds chasing the hare. She thought it could be symbolic, but no, it was just... Related to a dog race, apparently. What the hell is the hare there for, then? A symbol of fertility? Speed? Agility? Evasion? Difficulty? Woah there, Lassie.

Whatever awe the aristocrat had from the painting faded as she grunted, "Dog races, huh? I doubt I have ever been to one, actually. I do not usually concern myself with that type of venue whenever I visit the city. I just go here to deal with the fossil trade, or..." Her words trailed off as the woman glanced over at Roswell, albeit somewhat awkwardly (but not bitterly, funnily enough). "But that asides, if you want to take me to one next time I visit, then I would not mind. It would be interesting comparing it to what I have back at home. I do not really know how to explain them, except that they are... A bit like blood sports? But more controlled. There's no actual bloodshed, unless someone wants to fucking cheat, but there are - of course - rules against that. Think dog-fighting, but with more than just dogs." That's one way to describe it.

Brown's words were flat as she talked about her home's sports, probably because she didn't really give a shit about them. What she did give a shit about, though, was Roswell leaning towards her. She had enough experience to know what that implied, and she was very much unamused by it. Slapping this man was a very appealing option, but alas, all Brown did was lean back further into her seat, like a frightened canine. And yes, like a cornered dog, she'd snap if he leaned in any closer - or lingered for any longer.

The arrival of the waiter caused her to sigh and rub her arm as the space between them increased again. Unusually, though, she didn't bother to pique in with her order for two reasons. The first was that she had no idea how the menu worked and didn't want to risk ordering something of subpar quality; the second was that she was a little stunned, a little pissed from what had just happened. Maybe starting a fight wouldn't have been such a bad idea after all.

"It better be, if you're lifting it to such high standards," Brown grunted after the order was made. A minute after, to be more precise. She delicately twirled a strand of hair around her finger while looking over at the other party. "Not that I can evaluate anything for shit, of course. I don't think I've tried curry before." Then why say that? At least her words were coy, though her body language suggested that she was still on edge - and ready to start that one fight if needed. However, her coyness did outweigh her wariness at the moment, and she leaned in - ever so slightly - in Roswell's direction. Emphasis on "slightly." Was it a flirtation, or her getting prepared to punch him? You decide!

That strand of hair remained curled as she now asked with a frown, "Let me guess, you forgot something?" Ironic, considering that he was the one planning this out. "You better tell me now, lest I find out later and really kick your fucking ass."

Roswell van Breek fizzelston

Roswell drummed his fingers on the table. Obnoxiously. His hair was cut, by a professional for once, and rubbed with coal. To hide móst of his grey streaks. The ones at his ear had been spares, just in case Brown liked those. Roswell adjusted his necktie. He smelled of lard, musk, and a hint of roses. Expensive perfume. "Dis is different from all those gamblin' halls and pups wee keep happenin' to meet hu?" He asked Brown. With a teeth-baring grin. His eye scanned the room. It was a decent restaurant, classy even but not too snobby. A marble floor and high, painted, ceiling. With different wooden tables and candlelight. A nice middle-ground for them both, now that Roswell thought of it. His eye rested on the ceiling for a while. Inspecting the painting, a piece that resembles greyhounds chasing a single hare, with a frown. He started it for long, before finally daring to look Brown back in the eyes. "When they found gold 'ere, in Drakenburg, people emigrated by de thousands, " he said. "Dat was not do lung ago. Oi've maybe been one of those, fortune seekin' souls, " he admits with a more careful smile. "They had to entertain dose people, de new folk, in someway," Roswell said. His gaze drifing back at the ceiling. "Dats most loikly de reason why they cooked up de dograces, ever bin too one?" He asked Brown. "They are fun though, very exciting sports." Ha sports, nice way to name your gambling addiction. Roswell leaned a bit on the table, a bit closer to Brown. He eyed her. Her round sturn face, her soft locks of brown hair. Tin lips. Piercing eyes, strong jawline. He eyed it all. He pricked up when the ober approached them. Adjusted his necktie for a second time and rubbed his hair. Desperately trying to look under control. "Took yer long enough, " he told the waiter. Ok boomer. "Oi would like to have the asparagus with molten cheese and bacon," he said. His stomach made an approving growl. Roswell hadnt eat meat and cheese for two weeks and only the idea of the soft dairy made his mouth water. He tried to hide his grumbling stomach by pressing his hand on it. "For de lady, marquess Brown, " he said. "The mutton chop curry if yer will, with the crystalzed onions and ginger garlic please. Oh ànd some wine. Red, but not to fruity." Roswell said. Waving the ober off with his hand. Leaning back over the table in Browns direction with that thin, unmissable smile. "It's de best curry or at least of what Oi've heard,' he said. Then paused. He patted his belt, his tailcoat with no avail. Guess who happened to júst só forget his wallet.

Johnson (Human) kafkaesque

I came here to necromance, and I ended up making a super long post. I'm so sorry sfhejvgrjhfvrsfd- ;;

i'm spoilering my response in order to make this post easy to scroll past. u_u"

"I hope you don't mind the venue," Johnson told Roswell with a nod, before extending his good arm out to further show off the restaurant he had picked for their particular outing, "and consider it too fancy. I just want to repay you for the service you provided for me in that chapel of yours not too long ago." He chuckled gingerly, biting back the temptation to utter the word "chapel" in air quotes. The black canines scribbled around the walls made it all too clear to the man when he departed that the dwelling wasn't really what its toponym suggested, and it made the man... Wince, to say the least.

At least these surroundings were indeed calm and "rational" enough for the man to feel a bit more at ease, potential scandal from fraternizing with the infamous Crow asides. The walls and floor were specifically stylized in a neoclassical fashion, seeking a return to simplicity after the ornamentation of the preceding rococo areas. Various marble busts of important historical figures ringed the entire dining room, and if one looked up, the ceiling contained a simple fresco of a bird flock moving through the partially clouded yet still bright sky, as if this was taking place outdoors and not inside what was sort of a rich shelter from the relentless rain so characteristic to Drakenburg.

"But also, I suppose you can consider this practice for when you go out with my friend," he grunted with a raised brow, "which is likely a reason why you even agreed to this in the first place, with that slicked back hair and all. I bet you wish she was here right now instead of me, but she told me she wants to just keep it low for a bit, so... Who knows? Maybe she'll change her mind in time. You know how women are, always so fickle." With a hum, the aristocrat leaned back ever so slightly against his chaise, as he continued to speak.

"I'm just not going to order any alcohol for us this time, by the way. I wouldn't want to repeat the first time we met, you know. And, alas, I didn't write that letter you promised me, though I do remember her asking why I stayed in my house for so long."

With a gentle chuckle, Johnson waved away his words as if they meant nothing at all, as if this was just playful banter that was supposed to simulate what Brown would say if she wasn't one wrong word away from punching the thief. Okay then. Someone didn't really know Brown at all, and his name wasn't Roswell. Johnson's focus shifted over to an approaching waiter as he - again - used his good arm to beckon the fellow over and take their order.

"You see, it's best not to complain if they take a while. They have other people to attend to, you know," Johnson briefly hissed in advisement to Roswell, before looking up at the server and saying, "It's good to see you today. It's a shame it's raining outside, but alas. It is what it is. Mind if I get the crusted veal with the sunchoke puree and fennel salad, please?" He placed particular emphasis on the last word, while gazing at the waiter writing down the order. "Ans as for the gentleman seated across from me, he can have the bacon-wrapped scallops with the melted cheddar sauce, as well as a light beef gravy on the side." For a moment, Johnson glanced over at Roswell, then back at the waiter. It wasn't long before that part of the meal was completed, and Johnson waved the waiter off as soon as he was done ordering.

Then, he turned back to Roswell and stated with a sigh, "You know, my friend told me she didn't even mind the date with you. Just thought the venue was a little... Postmodern, for her taste? But you ordered her good food. The curry, if I remember correctly? I'm sure she told you already, but I'm telling you that she corroborated it herself with me. Not that she has a reason to lie to you in the first place." A careful laugh came out of the middle-aged man as he leaned back against his seat once more.

"I think once you get this practice round dealt with," he hummed while also subtly pulling back his sleeve to show off the laceration, which had by now mostly healed, "you should be good to go. She told me she wouldn't mind going for another round." And as if he didn't say that at all, the man sighed and looked down at the stitches, properly administered by a professional soon after Johnson had left the Old Chapel.

"It just depends on when she feels like stepping foot into Drakenburg again, really... And I frankly don't know when that'll be."

hdfsejvdgrjvd no, poor sweet Dragon.... don't look up to Johnson as a role model.... :")))))))))

bless you pickle for that sweet necromancy (though tbh it was kinda funny Johnson killed the thread for that long because tbh going out with him for a dinner is kind of a Yikes even if it's just platonic).... here's your follow-up- :3c

With a long, drawn-out sniff, Johnson eyed the... Youth? It was so hard to tell, really. He had the feeling that he was speaking to a child - and that wasn't figurative for once! Still, he did his best to try considering him like an equal, even if he really, really didn't want to. The other reminded him too much of his past wife - from the way he carried himself to how he seemed to shudder in front of Johnson's presence; the latter particularly tugged at his senses as he narrowed his eyes at the other party and huffed at him:

"You know that we're in a public place, right? It's more than just me who's looking at you cower like that. So sit up, lest people start thinking badly of us."

When he meant "us," it was mostly just the middle-aged man as he hummed and gently tapped his fingers against the white satin tablecloth. Johnson knew for a fact that he couldn't trust the other party with this type of affair, so he had to control as much of their interaction as he could - and this included the venue that they dined in... And you know what that meant?

The most fucking opulent shit that ever existed in this region.

If only to flex Johnson's own wealth, the restaurant in question was obnoxiously neoclassical in style - as it was a classic symbol of wealth and dignity in the aristocrat's home. Everything was pristine, from the shine on the marble tiles to the details that made the marble busts surrounding the restaurant's periphery all the more distinctive and realistic... As well as scrutinizing, as they - along with Johnson - watched the younger fellow suck in a breath and call for the waiter.

Under his breath, the middle-aged man grunted, "Good luck," like the supportive role-model he was. Not. He expected little to come from this, so little that he probably felt like he was going to need to intervene at some point - in case the other party ended up stuttering himself into tears.

"I'll just sit back and wait until you're done," sighed Johnson, "I want you to practice being more confident, though I want you to know right now that you're doing rather badly." He thought he was being blunt; objectively, he was being a dick. He didn't care, for obvious reasons,. as he glanced off to the side and continued to drum his fingers against the table.

At least he was so zoned out that he didn't hear the youth butcher the pronunciation of filet mignon (though he would've done the same thing under a similar circumstance).

The only time he even looked up was when he heard the mention of strawberry milkshakes. Wait, they have that here!? he thought as he abruptly sat up in his seat, unsure of whether to call over the waiter or just sit there and gawk at the other's choices.

"It's rather kitsch for such a nice restaurant like this to have milkshakes," opined Johnson apathetically, "but... I suppose that I trust the chef enough to provide the best milkshake ever. Right?" He chuckled wryly before giving the other party a thin smile. "Wouldn't that be right, sir? You did make the order, after all, so I'm placing a bit of trust on you to make sure this turns out fine. So, really, you only have yourself to blame if this sours."

Dragon PicklePantry

Dragon practically trembled in his seat, constantly mustering up the courage to stare at Johnson only to quickly look away when he saw that cold stare. Even though he was scary and mean, Dragon wanted to learn from him and become a true man. A manly man! He clenched his fists and pursed his lips. So he would! He already had the courage to ask him for some mentoring over dinner, and now he'd prove himself and order food for them both! Like a MAN!
"S-Sir!" he called over the waiter. Part of him wanted to run away right then and there. Not only did he stutter, but the waiter was actually coming to him! The pressure was really building up. "I-I-- Ah!" Suddenly, he realized a terrible fact: he's not human. He didn't eat human food, so he rarely did, and that meant he wasn't well-versed with what kind of foods humans liked, let alone what someone like Johnson would like. The waiter was coming in hot! He only had a precious few seconds to figure things out! Color-changing eyes hastily scanned the menu, beads of sweat dotted Dragon's forehead. Johnson was someone that didn't show emotion, someone that only had the best of things so...
"I-I'll have the... the..." He squinted his eyes as he tried to word out the dish. "The... Fil-let mig-none, p-p-please." He butchered it, he knew that. If it wasn't by hearing himself it was by the look on the waiter's face. Eventually, Dragon had to point to the dish to properly order. Before the waiter could leave, though, Dragon perked up. "O-Oh! A-And two of your finest strawberry milkshakes, too!" Again, another weird look from the waiter, but the order was placed. Dragon smiled proudly and looked at Johnson for his reaction.

(NP I know not all the posts here are dates but just to clarify please have Dragon's as more of a friend kind of dinner)
OMG it finally happened So SWEET

Marcus Marclyn

Marcus was at the bar of a restaurant just enjoying his drinks and his appetizer when he finally noticed a familiar face among this crowd. It was that annoying fairy child! The captain did wonder... What was a kid-? No toddler? Oh well, Marcus couldn't tell the difference, children are all just tiny useless beings to him. But what was that boy doing by himself in this restaurant, at this hour? It's past his bedtime. Should be home with its fairy family and asleep. Then again, it was a fairy child, probably a bait and lure some unsuspecting mother so it can harvest her soul. But then again, Marcus knew what lonely looked and felt like, it hurts. And the "kid" was showing signs of it. Marcus sighed heavily. Contemplated. He hates children, hates fairies. His brain tells him no, and to ignore it, but his heart tells him to go comfort the poor thing.

Marcus looks at the bartender, "Two strawberry milkshakes. All for that kid over there. He could use both of them." Nodding over to Dragon. But of course the other drink was for him. HUEHUEHUE. But the bartender won't know that. Ha! Yes, manpride and masculinity still in tact. It wasn't a totally loss to Marcus after all. He did miss the sweet taste of strawberry milkshake. "And two stakes, one rare and the other, medium rare." He smirks at the bartender. The soldier got up and made his way to sit with the kiddo.

(Marcus finally gets to have some strawberry milkshakes again. HA!)

Marcus observed Hala while she sat across from him chatting. The captain was certainly happy to see her again. She was so beautiful... And he enjoyed watching her. Something about her... Perhaps her helplessness or the vulnerability.. Whatever it was. He was drawn to her. And he was happy to see her become more talkative. Perhaps he'll get to see her personality shine this evening. Finally get to see her open up and be her. Even though it was hard to hear her over the busy restaurant. Something about her husband. He seemed like a good man. A great warrior. Marcus would love to meet and hangout with him one of these days. Maybe when he, if he ever, returns for his wife. Which was kind of in a spunky spot. Since Marcus was starting to take a like to this woman, even though she was married... To a very prominent man ontop of that.

Marcus leans over to Hala so she could hear him better. "You're doing great Mrs Hala. Nice job." Reaching over to pat her shoulder, reassuring her. "Seafood curry is an excellent choice, along with the fritter. I'm a man! I'm not picky with my food. Haha!" As he lets out a hefty chuckle. "And great choice on the wine." As he made the 'perfect' gesture with his hand. Even though Marcus did not like wine. He always thought of it as a woman's drink. Or some fancy person's drink. And he wasn't a fancy rich person or a woman. And he certainly did not want to be associated with any of those. Being feminine or a fancy person! But he didn't want to discourage Hala. He wanted her to feel comfortable and be happy for once. "Was that a smile I saw on your face earlier." Chuckling. "I want to see more of that from you tonight, Mrs Hala." As he leans back on his chair with a smirk and winks at her. "And we can definitely get some Crepes too. I can always fit more food in here." As he reaches to touch his gut, letting out another bellow of chuckles.

(MARCUS WILL CATCH AND KEEP HALA. T__T HE'S ALOT OF BAGGAGE AND DOUCHERY THO)

Hala Oidekivi Vapor

*throws hala at marcus throws hala at marcus throws hala at--*

"I think it's very sweet of you to join me." said Hala, her voice barely able to be heard over the sound of the bustling of the restaurant. It was packed tonight, and though this particular area was a bit difficult to speak in without, you know, having to nearly yell, she supposed nothing could be done about it. She had wanted to eat here, after all. She was so adamant about it. "I'm sure my husband would have liked it here, but... well, he's been so busy lately."

Honestly, she wasn't sure if her husband even liked seafood anymore. The smell of it was strong here.

Maybe she should have waited.

"I don't mean to be negative, of course." she added, "Like I said, it's nice to have you here."

She was a bit disappointed, sure, but she wouldn't let that discourage her from having a wonderful dinner, assuming that he felt the same way about this place. She managed a smile for him, though it quickly faded as she searched the room for their waiter. Her eyes skipped over several heads before landing on the one most familiar. She waved a hand to catch the waiter's attention, though doing so took a bit longer than she expected.

As the man approached, she looked back at Marcus and asked him, "Do you drink? They sell wines here, so I..."

She stopped when the server approached, notepad in hand, prepared to take their orders. Or, her order, actually. It seemed Marcus wasn't going to get much of a say in what he was getting, as she spoke up, still a bit exasperated from all the noise.

"We would like your seafood curry chowder, please, sir." she told them, "Though, I suppose he might also like the conch fritters, ah..." She glanced back at the man across from her, and then reluctantly concluded, "Then, a bottle of pinot grigio for the both of us to split... That will be all, really..."

She turned again to watch the waiter walk off, and in that moment, she felt as though she had just offended her companion's ancestors. She couldn't place why, really. Only that a feeling of dread nestled itself in the back of her mind.

"..I should have let you order for yourself." she said, "If you don't like the fritters, at least, then I'll eat them for you. Then, maybe afterwards we can get... Well, I don't know. Crepes, maybe?"

fun fact: doritos are easily flammable.

It was like looking into a mirror, and while some people would simply try to preen himself to be better than his reflection, Hala just... tried to ignore it to the best of her ability, her eyes shifted away anxiously from the woman before her, finding some solace in watching the waves break on the stony shore below them. Her thin fingers sat intertwined in her lap, only bothering to remove themselves every now and then to sip on the lemonade brought to her earlier. Being stared at sure was a feeling!

As she was so minor when thinking in regards to the noble hierarchy, she was certain that this dinner had more to do with the other woman's husband wanting an alliance with her own husband. Though the situation they both found themselves in was awkward, she had to consider that it was a good thing the men didn't go to dinner instead. Noel would attend, and then come home, and then do nothing for the entire night, and she didn't want his attention steered away from her for the brief time he was back in the province. Then again, this solution wasn't giving her the time she wanted, anyhow.

"Oh." Hala turned to smile back at Smith, and then nodded. "Oh, yes, honestly the scenery is fine, madame. I don't think I ever mentioned I grew up in a place... almost like this."

"And, don't worry about my time." She then added, awkwardly glancing away towards the twilit sea. "I'm a bit busy, sure, but if-- if I was absolutely swamped with work, I would have just rescheduled." She always kept a comically tiny notepad with her, tucked underneath her sash, but for now, her brain was totally empty, so notes weren't a problem. She could have a nice dinner, go home, and... I don't know. Die?

And then, she was quiet, listening in on Smith as she pestered that poor waiter. Ordering food is how you get your drinks spat into.

But, Hala was beyond pleased to hear the word "oysters". Raw oysters! She liked how raw oysters felt. She liked how they freaked out when she slapped them into her mouth, and they were always incredible with some hot sauce or lemon juice. Good thing she had her lemonade..?

"I don't think the food is bad," she reassured the other, "But, I mean, it's not like I really have an opinion there-- but how can you mess up with oysters?" And some crunchy, airy shrimp... and squiggly calimari... it all sounded fucking delicious... "But, I understand. I've never been much of an eater, either. I mean... I probably eat more than you, but..." She paused to bring her fingers down her hair. "I think the most I've ever eaten was a wedding feast some years ago. And then I got sick."

Please don't talk about that in a restaurant.

Smith (Human) kafkaesque

Smith, in all honesty, looked like she was about to cry, but then again, who could blame her? Her husband had told her that getting to know others - especially other nobles - was a very good, very smart idea, and... Well... If she didn't comply, he was just going to call her "meek" and "weak," which just so happened to create a haunting rhythm that continually played in her head as she fiddled with her fingers and stared down the other woman - despite trying too hard not to.

"I... I'm glad you accepted the request in the first place," she muttered, "Sorry if the handwriting didn't look too good. My hand isn't very steady when I'm nervous." Which was just a nice way of saying that she didn't have good handwriting at all, but... The young woman drew in a sharp breath before suddenly cupping a cheek with her palm. "But... Uhh... That asides, you don't mind the... Scenery, right? It's not the city environment that you're completely familiar with by any means, but... I hope it's better than something rural, at the very least."

She wasn't wrong? They were set on one of the outside seats overlooking what appeared to be a coastal view. The faint rumble of waves crashing against the shore could be distantly heard in the background as the tide receded for the night, though there still seemed to be a decent amount of natural light as the sun hadn't quite set yet. Clouds occasionally dotted the mostly clear sky; objectively, they were okay, but perhaps if they were scrutinized with a more judging eye, they'd be regarded as dull blue blemishes against a gradual transformation from cerulean to bright orange-yellow.

The young woman coughed into her sleeve, and quite abruptly too, before remarking somewhat louder, "I also hope this isn't too much of a constraint on your time, to be honest. You must be busy as a writer, right? Like... You at least seem like the type of fellow who'd need to get those ideas down right away, lest you forget them..." She sat herself up with mouth hung open slightly when she saw someone passing by. "Oh! That reminds me!" she exclaimed with a squeak before starting to wave her hand all too frantically, "The waiter should be here right now- Hey, you! Can you, uh, please come over here?"

After that outburst, which seemed to compensate itself by reducing Smith to a nervous shell of the confident woman she was for a moment, she timidly watched both the other party and the waiter, especially as the latter approached the table and asked for an order. Smith stared at the woman for a few seconds in absolute silence. Guess who hadn't tried asking who should be ordering, or paying, for that matter?

"Ummm..." Smith piqued in after what seemed like an eternity of silence, "Can... Can you give the woman seated across from me a seafood platter? Add a lot of oysters in it, too. Like... Extra oysters, preferably raw. You do have other oyster dishes, right?" She coughed into her sleeve before carefully pointing a finger at herself. "As... As for me... I can take one of the appetizers... Like... Maybe the stuffed mushrooms with cheese? I don't plan to eat very much..." After that, the woman just looked at the waiter almost helplessly while they scrawled down the order.

"It's not like the food here is bad," she - with a clearly stressed grin - attempted to reassure the other party, "It's just... I don't eat a lot in general. Does... Does that make much sense? Besides, I'm... I'm more of a talker than an eater. Like... I like talking in these types of environments, if... If that makes sense. Maybe while we wait, we can get to know each other better? I still uphold my regards for you from last time, miss."

*cracks knuckles* me, sneaking angst into an otherwise wholesome thread? it's more likely than you think. time for a follow-up for sweet Agnes...

"Dolls are scary, creepy," she remembered Johnson telling her with a scowl and raised hands, "They look into you and your eyes like they're the most damn interesting thing in the world, when that clearly isn't the case!" He then leered at Smith before clenching his teeth and shaking a clenched fist at her. "Do you understand that, Smith? That you can't just... Be exposing our son to this type of shit!? They're too soft and cuddly, and that's not what our son should be. Soft and cuddly people get taken advantage of in the political sphere all the time. It's better for him to be a tough son of a bitch than anything else- Not that you're a bitch, Smith, but... You get what I mean, right?"

A blank-faced Smith seemed to stare off to the distance - in the present - before muttering, 'Of course..." Yes. Of course.

Of course she had to be stuck with a doll in the hospice. Sure, he was appointed as a "visitor" by the aides, but at the same time... She had the feeling that she was somehow being punished for what she did in the past. Did Smith not love Johnson enough? Did she love him too much? Maybe he was right, and the dolls were representatives of a too soft, too corrupting force. The older woman wrung her hands together while trying to avoid looking into his eyes.

She did, however, look up at the bright white lights that illuminated the dining room. Everything was plain and chained to the ground to minimize the risk to the patients - or anyone in the room, really - but the monotony was occasionally broken by a food stain, or cracks resulting from an incidental punch or kick. Smith was a good patient. She'd never spill food, or try punching or kicking. She was supposed to stay still, like the only thing she knew how to do at times.

"The food here isn't bad," she assured him, "It's rather comforting, rather homey. Of course, but..." Smith glanced around for a second before leaning in with a blank face. "... It's nothing compared to what the chefs would make at home," she opined with a whisper, "I heard that they sometimes use 'mystery' meats instead of proper foods... like beef or pork... What do you think the meatloaf would be made of, by the way?" Smith bit down on her lip before leaning back against her seat and twiddling with her fingers.

"I'm... I'm glad that you came here, at least. There's not a lot of visitors during the eating hours, you know. It's mostly just because some of the patients are shier and don't like it when there's a crowd in any room, including the dining room..."

With a cough into her sleeve, she only raised a brow when the doll asked her to eat something. Of course she wanted to! Her stomach was growling, and her mind could only think of food - including that so-called "mystery" meatloaf. But... When it came to what exactly she could be served, her mind drew a blank. Usually that was done for her by the staff, for they had a set nutritional plan for each patient, and Smith's portions were always just a tinier bit smaller than everyone else's. That affected how much she ate, though. As for what she'd eat...

She was silent.

Smith eyed the doll as he got up out of his seat and went over to the phone, then coming back a few minutes later. She nodded at him, despite not exactly knowing what a milkshake tasted like. Her husband probably would've thought it was lower anyway.

"I can go with that," she muttered to him meekly, "I just don't know if the staff wants me to eat something so... Sweet... But I can try. They're usually nicer when it's the visitor ordering it anyway."

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