“Well, I wouldn’t mind if it was the truth, but since it’s not … it’s a bit awkward.” She tipped her head to one side, studying him, then smiled gently. “But this trip is not about me! It’s about what you want. So just ignore Michelangelo, okay?”
Picking up the menu cards, encased in plastic to protect against spills, she chewed on the side of her finger and pondered out loud. “Now, do I want my usual thing, or shall I try something new?”
His eyes didn’t leave her as she spoke, nor when she picked up the menu to make a selection. He continued to watch her casually. His menu remained beside his arm for a long moment before he finally turned his gaze down to it and picked it up, leafing through the words written there.
He had no idea what to pick.
His eyes found her face again. “There is so much to choose from here… do you have a suggestion, Summer?”
She frowned at the menu for a second. “Mmmm … try the veal marsala.” Another second of chewing, avoiding Fenrir’s eyes, avoiding Fenrir’s face. “I think I’m going to go with my usual,” Summer announced. “I can always use the leftovers when I get buried in code.”
Looming over them suddenly, Michelangelo plunked a glass of wine down before each of them, and a candle in the centre, beaming. “For the happy couple! On the house, because this girl, she is like a daughter to me!”
Summer covered her eyes again. “‘angel’, please, it’s okay. Can you just … ” She pressed her lips together, and Michelangelo interrupted.
“No, no, I understand completely bella! You will tell me what you want to eat, and I will make sure you have perfect solitude!” More beaming. Summer tried not to look at Fenrir at all.
“Now,” the chef said, whipping out a pad and pen, “what shall it be?”
Fenrir’s eyes snapped to the bottle when it was set on the table between them with an audible thunk. Those icy blue eyes trailed up to Michelangelo’s red face via his arm, then the flame of the candle that had also been brought. An amused smirk lit his features, eyes twinkling with innocent entertainment. He rather liked this fellow. A lively chap indeed.
His smile widened at Michelangelo’s words and Summer’s bashfulness. Oh what great fun this all was. His gaze jumped from one Midgardian to the other as the two interacted. They were promised privacy, and Fenrir had to hold back a jovial protest. This Michelangelo man was such a treat!
When asked what they would desire, Fenrir gestured with head and hand to Summer, smiling at her kindly. “Ladies first.” He offered.
Summer gave a little roll of her eyes, cleared her throat, and told Michelangelo, “I want the fettuccine alfredo. And can I get a soda, please?” She eyed Michelangelo. “You know I don’t normally drink.”
“This is a special occasion!” Michelangelo responded, scribbling. “One glass, bella, it will be good for you! What shall I bring you, my boy?”