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“Does attending a private dinner at an individual’s place of residence count as a date?” Neuvillette took a sip of his water, savoring the refreshing taste as it whet his palette.
Across from him, Furina inhaled her tea, spewing it spectacularly back out her nose and into her porcelain cup. She heaved air back into her lungs in deep gasping breaths, much like a fish out of water, and dissolved into a fit of coughing. It was quite a spectacle, drawing Neuvillette forward in his chair as he offered her his cloth napkin.
“Are you quite alright? Have I said something offensive?”
“N-no! Not at all. I was merely caught off guard by your abrupt question. Ahem.” She patted her face and nose dry and wiped at her watery eyes, clearing her throat to shake some of the post-choking hoarseness that was attempting to settle there. She’d long since set the teacup and saucer aside, the beverage ruined by her own surprise aspiration. “Are you asking on behalf of someone else?”
“No. I am referring to my own present circumstances.” Neuvillette corrected her assumption blithely, settling his goblet of water back onto the table beside his empty bowl of soup.
“I see. In most cases, I believe it might, but that depends entirely upon the intentions of the parties attending.” Furina folded her gloved hands together, taking a moment to assess him with a shrewd gaze. “Would you like this, uh, dinner to be a date?”
Neuvillette’s lips pressed to a thin line, gaze drifting to the napkin on his lap as he turned his own feelings over again and again. “Yes, I believe I would like that.” He shifted in his chair, leaning forward incrementally more. “My concern lies in the potential for misunderstandings, should the other party involved not realize that was my intention. I thought it obvious, but there are many things I often misunderstand in conversations or fail to glean through subtext.”
“Well, consider me surprised! I didn’t know you fancied anyone at the moment. Is it someone I know?” Furina, in turn, scooted closer in her own chair, caught like a fish on a hook by the prospect of good gossip. “They must be quite the refined charmer to have caught your discerning eye, monsieur.”
Neuvillette’s mouth twisted as he pictured Chef Wriothesley in the kitchen that Saturday evening, slightly disheveled in a rugged way, dressed down to his t-shirt and slacks. No, refined wasn’t necessarily a word he would use the describe the man. Handsome? Certainly. Charming, cunning, witty, sharp-tongued, and kindhearted? Absolutely. He was a natural leader who charted the course for the kitchen unfailingly every night he was there.
“It is someone you know, although I’m not sure my first choice of descriptor would be refined. At least, not in the way one might refer to a gemstone. Perhaps an argument could be made for the refinement of steel into the fine edge of a knife – well-worked with care and forged through hard labor and determination, refined into something undeniably as stunning as it is functional.” He nodded to himself, pleased with his analogy.
Furina was gaping at him like a fish trying to flush water over its gills.
“Have I said something strange again?” Neuvillette’s fond smile slipped from his face.
“No, not at all! I’ve never heard you wax poetic about a person before! Hell, I’ve only heard you talk like that about water and wine.” Furina laughed brightly, undeniably entertained with their conversation as she pulled her dessert plate closer. The cake upon it seemed particularly well made, two thick layers of light sponge cake with fresh sugared strawberries layered delicately in airy, vanilla bean sweetened whipped cream. Tragic that it was likely too sweet for his preference.
“I do find myself quite taken with this individual.” Neuvillette agreed with a thin smile of his own. “Let me ask you this, though, Miss Furina, as a follow up to my previous question.” She nodded eagerly, her entire being attentive to him as she shoved a bite of fluffy strawberry shortcake into her mouth. “Would it be considered uncouth for the front of house manager of a restaurant to sleep with the head chef?”
Neuvillette watched in muted horror as Furina made a distressed face, pounding on her chest briefly before she dove for her teacup, taking several large gulps of tea to presumably help wash down whatever had gotten lodged in her throat.
“Miss Furina, do you require assistance?” He made to offer her his napkin again, but she frantically waved him away.
“How dare you say –!” She struggled in a deep breath, a single finger brandished accusatorily in his direction. “Something so bold, right after I took a bite. I’m starting to think you’re trying to send me to an untimely demise with your words alone this afternoon!” The dramatics were as much a part of her as the white hair atop her head, and Neuvillette let her indulge as he sat back down, taking another sip of water.
Crisp, with a hint of minerality that lingered on the tongue. Delightful.
“I wish nothing but many prosperous years to you,” he corrected gently, on the off chance she genuinely started to believe him out to get her.
“What do you mean, ‘would it be uncouth’ if you slept with Chef Wriothesley? Of course it would be uncouth!” Her hand collided with the surface of the table, jostling the porcelain place settings, much to Neuvillette’s dismay.
“Oh…” He answered eloquently, sitting with her words and judgement. This was not the answer he’d wanted, but perhaps the one he had anticipated and simply not desired to acknowledge himself. He was, perhaps, being a little selfish in his endeavors.
However, Wriothesley started it.
“Oh?!” she echoed, too loudly for his taste.
“You’ve made your point; there is no need to make a performance of it,” Neuvillette retorted tartly. He folded his hands upon his lap, sitting back in his chair to once again manifest space between them.
Perhaps he’d incorrectly judged that Furina would be sympathetic to his plight. Navia might have been a better choice; however, she’d been mired in the thick of her own romantic plight as of late. He’d not unduly burden her with his own woes, especially about her direct supervisor and friend.
Furina abruptly sat back down, managing to look sheepish and simultaneously on the verge of exploding into another outburst. “I’m sorry.” Neuvillette sighed, gesturing for her to continue. “If I had known you meant Chef Wriothesley when we started this conversation, I would have navigated it quite differently. Neuvillette, he’s the head chef of Romaritime! Your head chef, the man keeping the entirety of the kitchen operating on the day-to-day. What if something goes wrong? Or it gets distracting, for either one of you. Are you not the one who said, years ago when we started this, that you liked to keep your personal and professional life separate?” She’d calmed significantly, no longer drawing the eyes of nearby patrons at their favorite café.
“I did,” he agreed, frowning as that little bit of advice came back to bite him in the ass. “However, that was years ago, when we were first conceptualizing Romaritime. Everything was more... tenuous, back then. Wriothesley has been head chef for over three years now; Romaritime is as much his as it is ours. I believe him to be capable of enough maturity to put work before emotions should it come to that.” Neuvillette pursed his lips. “I do not appreciate your assumption that something will inevitably go wrong, for the record.”
Furina’s expression crumpled as she reached across the table for his hand.
“I didn’t mean it like that. I realize now how it sounds. I am merely concerned for you, especially if you’re holding a candle for a back-of-house hooligan.”
“He is not a hooligan,” Neuvillette defended with a stern look.
“I beg to differ! Show me a chef who doesn’t have an incurable vice or a rap sheet a mile long. I dare you.” Her petite arms crossed stubbornly over her chest.
He was really beginning to regret broaching the subject.
“That does not make them unlovable, Furina,” he argued, jaw tense at the implications of her statement.
“You’re correct, but it does make them hooligans.”
Neuvillette groaned, realizing the trap he’d walked himself into as soon as the quirk of her lips turned smug and self-satisfied.
“My point stands, as do my concerns. Neuvillette,” her tone turned serious once more, both hands coming to cradle one of his own. A laughable sight, considering how small hers were in comparison to one of his. “It is so rare for you to find interest in another. Are you going into this with the intention of a fling, or something more? Because we both know how rowdy kitchen folk are, and how most of them treat relationships. Chef Wriothesley is no exception to that rule.”
Neuvillette winced, unable to refute the validity of her claim in the face of years of evidence. Line cooks were notoriously ungovernable, as were servers, and there was a flourishing hookup culture that existed amongst the various fine dining restaurants in the city.
“Your concern is... appreciated.” Neuvillette took another moment to collect his thoughts, struggling to voice the very real feelings he’d been grappling with for the better part of half a year. “I do not see myself being satisfied with a fling in this instance. My interest runs deeper than surface level,” he quickly proceeded, cutting the argument he could see Furina building before it could start. “That being said, I have very strong reason to believe that Wriothesley may feel similarly.”
“Such as?”
“He is the one who asked me on a date.” Lilac eyes blinked, and heterochromatic blue blinked back. “To his house. To cook me dinner. Personally. Also, he greatly resembled a kicked puppy when he assumed I was rejecting his offer, but politely accepted the perceived no.” He raised a single eyebrow, giving her a moment to marinate in the evidence presented.
“You bring an interesting point to light,” Furina mused, framing her chin between the L of her thumb and forefinger, and he appreciated her willingness to continue to contemplate the topic. Furina often made snap judgements and decisions, but if given time, Neuvillette had learned that she didn’t hold fast to those initial impressions and allowed her perceptions to evolve with the introduction of new information. One only needed the patience with which to hold lengthy conversations.
“Let’s assume this to be true, then. Chef Wriothesley has a crush on you.”
“Crush makes it sound so… juvenile.” Neuvillette made a face. “I am in my forties, and he’s nearly there himself, if I recall correctly.”
“Fine, fine. He’s romantically inclined towards you, then. What of value does he bring to the table in a serious relationship for you? And don’t knock this question because it seems shallow!” She held a finger aloft, silencing his quickly blossoming protest before it could even bud. “This could be emotional support, financial, whatever it is you think is important in a relationship.”
Neuvillette pondered her query, trying to pinpoint exactly what it was about the other man that attracted him so. It took him the better part of five minutes and several sips of water before he had his answer.
“He brings a levity to my life that I have not possessed since I was a child. There is a certain charm that he wields that is capable of making me laugh and setting my heart at ease when we are together. That, and he is more than attentive to my preferences, and has made sure that I eat while at work, despite my dietary restrictions, on innumerable occasions.” Neuvillette nodded to himself, satisfied with his answer. “Finances are not a concern, not understanding my demanding work schedule is also not a concern, and he is certainly not lacking in appearance in any way.”
“I see your point. And, hypothetically, if he’s not interested in anything serious, and he does want a fling?” She softened her tone, as if to cushion the inevitable emotional blow from such a reality. Neuvillette forced himself to examine the sharp stab of hurt that lanced through his chest at such a potential scenario.
He opened his mouth to respond, and closed it once more, before trying again.
“Should he want nothing more than a physical relationship, then I will honor his wishes and see where it goes. I am capable of keeping my feelings to myself, and if it becomes too much a burden to bear, I will politely terminate any such connection we have.” He picked at a loose thread on his outer coat, intentionally avoiding Furina’s imploring gaze.
“Neuv…” she started.
“I know,” he interrupted, piercing her with his lilac gaze. “This is a risk I am willing to take. I simply wished to gauge how well any news of this leaking into the public might be perceived. Clearly the answer is that it would be a top-tier scandal.” Securing his glass of water in hand once more, he took a hearty sip and placed it back just as regally.
“That is probably true, I’m sorry to say. But, if it’s any consolation, despite my initial shock, after hearing what you’ve said about your feelings, I hope with all my heart that you are correct about Wriothesley. It would be nice to see you with someone who brings you joy and companionship.” Her genuine smile wavered imperceptibly, but it was gone so fast that he dared not try and discern what had caused it.
“Thank you, Furina, that means a lot to me. Now, to bring back my original question, with the additional context. Do you think he thinks this is a date?”
“With what you have said, absolutely, and you should dress accordingly.” Her spoon was lifted on high, well above her head, brandished more like a baton rather than a utensil. “WE SHOULD GO SHOPPING!”
Neuvillette sighed, his shoulders sagging with the prospect of being dragged around to multiple potentially crowded stores all in the same afternoon.
“Must we?”
“Yes! I insist. Do you want this head chef to fall ass-over-teakettle in love with you or not?”
Neuvillette flushed at her description, and the immediate affirmative he felt at her question. “I would not phrase it as such, but... yes."
“Then we’re going shopping right this minute. I know you have immaculate tastes in suits, but I know someone, and she knows better than anyone. She’s an expert in the art of seduction via clothing, I swear! Where is our server? I need the bill, stat. So we can get a move on before the stores close!” Furina’s spoon flew about, thankfully devoid of food as she gesticulated excitedly.
“Seduction? When did this become about seduction?” Neuvillette inquired, bewildered as he was swept up in the typhoon that was Furina’s enthusiasm.
At least he had her tentative approval, and the reassurance that his upcoming evening with Wriothesley was, in all likelihood, a date. Now, he only needed to proceed as normal for the next week at work.
Surely that wouldn’t pose a challenge.