The Causeway and Points Beyond, Wednesday Evening

[glacial_queen]

Karla wasn't sulking. Not at all. That would be ridiculous. Sure, just because her boyfriend of two years had left three days before their anniversary and then hadn't called at all today was no reason to be upset. Neither was the fact that when he had finally gotten around to gracing her with a phone call, it was to ask if Karla would run down to the Causeway and check the Bee for something he'd forgotten after a hurried and half-mumbled 'Happy Anniversary'.

So Karla was down on the other side of the Causeway, looking for her stupid boyfriend's stupid car so she could find whatever stupid thing he'd been looking for. It wasn't like she had a gift burning a hole in her pocket or anything. "This is bloody ridiculous," she muttered to where Nemi was perched on her shoulder. "You hear me? Abso-bloody-lutely ridic--"

The rest of what she had to say was swallowed up by an inarticulate cry of delight. There was Warren, lounging against the Bee, holding a bouquet of irises.

[For the gentleman what was mentioned and up early for lake-related SP. I'M ONNA BOAT Y'ALL! (Well, not right now)]

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[wwiii]

And Warren drew in a little breath at the sight.

"You wear that dress well," he murmured, stepping forward and slipping his hands around her waist. "It fits okay?"

The way he ran his fingers along her sides was maybe an attempt to make certain that the sizing was correct, yes.

[glacial_queen]

Sure. Sure it was.

"Fits like a dream," Karla promised him, not mentioning the bodice was a bit loose. She didn't need to draw attention to the fact that she had smaller-than-average breasts, thanks.

...She really needed to start vanishing her special bras if Warren was going to keep surprising her like this.

"So, be honest with me. Did you really pick this out? Or did you hand off my size and color preference to someone and hoped for the best?"

[wwiii]

"Actually, I pestered the coven for your measurements, and then told somebody what I wanted to see in a dress, and had them make it specifically for you."

So there.

Granted, butterfly wings hadn't been quite what he had in mind when he'd told the dressmaker to make wings out of sapphires and diamonds in the back. But he could follow the logic that led to them, and had to concede that they probably worked better this way than some weird attempt at gemstone feathers might have.

[glacial_queen]

"So you've been planning this for awhile, hmm?" Karla asked. "Hoping to beat me in the anniversary gift contest from last year?"

If so, this was an amazing entry for it. "I love it. Makes me feel beautiful, love."

[wwiii]

"You don't need the dress to be beautiful," Warren assured her, reaching for her hands. "You're breathtaking, you know that?"

He was a shameless flatterer.

He was also being totally honest. So that helped.

[glacial_queen]

Karla gave him her hands and gladly. Was now the right time for his gift? Should she wait until dinner? After dinner?

It was burning a hole in her pocket, but she wanted her gift to be perfect.

"It's probably how happy I am right now," she assured him. "I feel like I'm glowing and could walk on air."

[wwiii]

"You could walk on air," Warren pointed out, squeezing her hands and then leading her toward a table set for two on the deck. "But I think that would be difficult to explain away to the serving staff."

Again, Warren didn't speak nearly enough French for that.

[glacial_queen]

"Literalist," Karla chided, sitting down at the table and smiling up at him. "I am trying to be all poetical for our anniversary."

She stuck her tongue out at him, then got to the serious business. "What's on the menu. You mentioned crepes, I remember."

[wwiii]

"Pretty much anything," Warren replied, smiling as he held her menu out to her. "Crepes, of course, though we'll probably be saving those for dessert. As for the main course..." He glanced at his own menu. Ah. Right. "Well, this is all in French, but if you need someone to translate what's in this stuff for you, I'd be happy to."

Again, his French was not exactly great, but if a Worthington couldn't comprehend a hideously expensive list of French cuisine, then there was no hope for them.

"I hear the coq au vin is to die for."

[glacial_queen]

"Cock o what?!" Karla asked, scandalized. She atleast had the common sense to keep her voice down, so only Warren would hear. "You'd better mean some kind of rooster!"

Sorry, Warren. You just couldn't take this girl anywhere.

[wwiii]

"It's French for rooster, yes," Warren replied, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from just flat-out laughing. "But they tend to make it with chicken, these days. In a red wine sauce."

Really, he'd been half expecting that after spending so much of the summer around the boyos. He'd almost be disappointed if she hadn't reacted like that.

[glacial_queen]

Well, if he didn't mind that she wasn't fit for decent company, who was she to worry about it?

"I like chicken," Karla said slowly. "And red wine. We could try some of that. And what's this pate dee foy grass and ess-car-gotte?"

The sailor pouring their wine winced and fled at Karla's pronunciation. Look, it wasn't her fault she didn't speak or read French? She was from another world, okay? She read what she saw!

[wwiii]

"Pâté de foie gras," Warren corrected patiently, "and escargot. The first is... well, the force-feed a goose of a duck, and the pâté is a sort of meat paste made out of its liver."

So, not the kindest meal.

"Escargot is snails."

[glacial_queen]

Perhaps Karla's Kaeleeran sensibilities at play, but she didn't seem all that concerned about the inherent cruelty in the food process or about eating liver, either.

Snails on the other hand..."Ew. Snails sound disgusting. And also, what you read is not what they printed. There were way more consonants than what you just pronounced."

[wwiii]

"Actually, I think I might order the escargot," Warren mused, looking over the menu. "I've heard good things about their quiche, too."

He glanced up at her with shades of a mischievous grin on his face.

"And the cuisses de grenouilles."

[glacial_queen]

"I've had quiche before," Karla said, wrinkling her nose at him for being a brat. "But you're going to tell me what the kyooss--quee-whatever that other thing is."

[wwiii]

"Cuisses de grenouilles. Frog legs."

Warren was the biggest brat. Ever.

"It's kind of like slightly fishy chicken."

[glacial_queen]

"...That's disgusting."

Way to be culturally open-minded there, Karla. "What is that about a frog that suggests it's good for eating?"

She was going to judge you so hard if you ordered it, Warren. And probably make you brush your teeth before you kissed her again.

[wwiii]

"It's meat," Warren replied with a shrug. "There are some cultures that eat insects and spiders, and others that eat dog meat, and horse. Frog really isn't all that weird. It isn't like they just yank the legs off and serve them as they are."

He tilted his head thoughtfully, and then shrugged.

"Either the frog or the snails," he mused. "As a side-dish to the main course. Which, I promise, can be something a little more familiar to your delicate palette."

Because Karla just screamed delicate.

[glacial_queen]

SHE WAS A DELICATE FUCKING FLOWER!

"...Frog legs," Karla said, if he was going to make her choose. Because Warren was terrible and didn't deserve her present. "You are awful and don't deserve me."

[wwiii]

"And yet you love me anyhow," Warren replied, beaming across the table at her. "What does that say about your taste, anyhow?"

Aw. Warren had been kind of looking forward to the escargot. Maybe next time, once he convinced Karla that frog legs were not some sort of culinary punishment sent to earth from Hell itself.

[glacial_queen]

"That you're pushing your luck," Karla said, but leaned over to kiss him anyway. You know, before he en-frogged himself. "And that I'm surprisingly generous and kindly to go along with it."

[wwiii]

"Someday," Warren said, leaning forward to meet her in that kiss, "someone from Kaeleer is going to insist I drink the yarbarah. And I'm going to remember tonight and I'm going to point out after the fact that I didn't sit there going 'ew ew ew' about it."

Even if it was absolutely disgusting.

[glacial_queen]

"Bet you will if no one heats it up first," Karla advised. "Otherwise it's pretty thick and sludgey. And if you don't say 'ew' after you drink it, then there's something wrong with you."

Like his tastebuds were all broken from having to eat Karla's food.

"What other, non-gross, stuff is there?" she asked. "Like...boo-ill-a-base?"

[wwiii]

Really, Warren would probably survive the experience and earn the respect and wonderment of all the Blood for just that reason. It was hard to say 'ew' about anything that went into his mouth after her cookies.

"That would be a sort of seafood stew," he offered. "Bouillabaisse. The recipe might have octopus or sea urchin in it, but it's not bad."