[The toe of Rafe Alieri's dress shoe catches, briefly pulling at silk before he skims to cover more territory. As brazen as he is like this, she has to imagine his restraint is legendary - control in most endeavours, a leash wrapped tight around desire until he lets loose the hound. The compliment is sweet, genuine, and deliciously warm spoken in his mother tongue, similar enough to what she knows that it draws an almost shy smile from her.
Evelyn would very much like to hear the rest of that list, and the emphasis has her thinking he isn't expressly here for something quick and dirty. She supposes they wouldn't be having a late dinner were that the case, anyway.
The arrival of the meal is a welcome respite and smells like a Godsend. There are ingredients she recognises through sight and smell, but the preparation is utterly alien and looks more tempting than she can describe. Under normal circumstances culinary explorations of this caliber would run a pretty penny - particularly for foreigners - but he takes to it like someone accustomed to eating in such a fashion every night. Whether he actually does remains to be seen, but-]
It's busy.
[The easy answer, and one she makes as she notices the flash of silver in his hand, a knife that doesn't belong on the table but in a gentleman's jacket pocket. Evelyn refrains from pointing it out and continues, snapping open her handbag. The fish are fraught with little bones.]
There are similar neighbourhoods of different groups - Jews, Italians, the Chinese, among others. The city is very old, but in its age I think it has life rather than austerity. As with anywhere, the docks are full of rowdy sailors and the streets are more and more crowded with automobiles.
[With a small but elegant flick, the blade of an ivory-handled knife darts from her hand and she prises a thin rib from the filet, delicately setting it aside.]
Its singular advantage over American cities is that it hasn't suffered the influence of the temperance union.
[ London must be a little more than just busy if the gentlemen of that town are out packing steel. A lot more for the ladies to apparently be doing the same. Rafe had tried to be slick in his motions, as if it's just another bit of cutlery out the kitchen and nothing to worry about, but then... Oh. Oh, then there's a matching blade in Evelyn's hand and Rafe can't help but stare, his foot going slack against her calf.
The description she offers is taken in a haze as his mind reels, blinking stupidly as this posh little dame with an estate in Mentmore and only some distance from the King of England handles her knife with poise. A hell of a lot more poise than anything Rafe's laying claim to before he snaps back to the conversation and out of the sudden desire to feel that edge press against his throat.
Shit. And he thought that nose was gonna be the death of him. ]
Fair enough, although. You can't deny there are some advantages to the teetotalers.
[ Taking a cue from Evelyn, who clearly has no qualms showing off hers, Rafe spears a piece of fish on the tip of his knife and pops it in his mouth. He takes his time to chew it, and even more time to delicately dab a napkin at his mouth before he continues. ]
Without the local drum, where else would I be finding company like this?
[ There is some small amount of satisfaction to be had in the way the pressure against her calf suddenly freezes, lessens, and very nearly retreats. It's a variety of shock, but a pleasant one. She might even hazard to call it delighted surprise, based upon the loft of his eyebrows and the sudden sharpness in his pale eyes. That very same hunger she recognised across the little table in the gin joint. What a delicious tête-à-tête she can drop offhandedly when she gets home, to her no doubt amused brother. I met an Italian today, she'll say, hanging up her coat in the foyer. Terrifically handsome. Probably dangerous. I startled him so badly I thought I might have broken him. ]
I suppose you wouldn't have met me at all.
[ Evelyn says, tone light and airy. Careless, in the way that the aristocracy is wont to be. Of the two of them, Rafe has the better hand, the greater advantage. He knows the city, knows how to pander to women, but doesn't yet know what sort of dalliance he may be entering. Or perhaps he does, and enjoys the thrill of a challenge. Perhaps he already knows the extent of her interest. It certainly isn't as though she's being subtle.
Evelyn taps the tip of her knife on her plate, a quiet tink tink tink as she mulls over his statement, the circumstances. ]
Judging by your laissez-faire attitude on the subject, however, one has to wonder. How often is it that you get raided by the Treasury Department? Run afoul of the constabulary?
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uncalendula) wrote2017-12-07 11:15 pm
no subject
Evelyn would very much like to hear the rest of that list, and the emphasis has her thinking he isn't expressly here for something quick and dirty. She supposes they wouldn't be having a late dinner were that the case, anyway.
The arrival of the meal is a welcome respite and smells like a Godsend. There are ingredients she recognises through sight and smell, but the preparation is utterly alien and looks more tempting than she can describe. Under normal circumstances culinary explorations of this caliber would run a pretty penny - particularly for foreigners - but he takes to it like someone accustomed to eating in such a fashion every night. Whether he actually does remains to be seen, but-]
It's busy.
[The easy answer, and one she makes as she notices the flash of silver in his hand, a knife that doesn't belong on the table but in a gentleman's jacket pocket. Evelyn refrains from pointing it out and continues, snapping open her handbag. The fish are fraught with little bones.]
There are similar neighbourhoods of different groups - Jews, Italians, the Chinese, among others. The city is very old, but in its age I think it has life rather than austerity. As with anywhere, the docks are full of rowdy sailors and the streets are more and more crowded with automobiles.
[With a small but elegant flick, the blade of an ivory-handled knife darts from her hand and she prises a thin rib from the filet, delicately setting it aside.]
Its singular advantage over American cities is that it hasn't suffered the influence of the temperance union.
no subject
The description she offers is taken in a haze as his mind reels, blinking stupidly as this posh little dame with an estate in Mentmore and only some distance from the King of England handles her knife with poise. A hell of a lot more poise than anything Rafe's laying claim to before he snaps back to the conversation and out of the sudden desire to feel that edge press against his throat.
Shit. And he thought that nose was gonna be the death of him. ]
Fair enough, although. You can't deny there are some advantages to the teetotalers.
[ Taking a cue from Evelyn, who clearly has no qualms showing off hers, Rafe spears a piece of fish on the tip of his knife and pops it in his mouth. He takes his time to chew it, and even more time to delicately dab a napkin at his mouth before he continues. ]
Without the local drum, where else would I be finding company like this?
no subject
I suppose you wouldn't have met me at all.
[ Evelyn says, tone light and airy. Careless, in the way that the aristocracy is wont to be. Of the two of them, Rafe has the better hand, the greater advantage. He knows the city, knows how to pander to women, but doesn't yet know what sort of dalliance he may be entering. Or perhaps he does, and enjoys the thrill of a challenge. Perhaps he already knows the extent of her interest. It certainly isn't as though she's being subtle.
Evelyn taps the tip of her knife on her plate, a quiet tink tink tink as she mulls over his statement, the circumstances. ]
Judging by your laissez-faire attitude on the subject, however, one has to wonder. How often is it that you get raided by the Treasury Department? Run afoul of the constabulary?