Work Text:
"I still don't get how that can taste good " Mike hummed, his eyes briefly following the waitress as she walked away. "Basically just cream with biscuits. But I'll try it. You've been awfully nice to me, I suppose I can do that much for you." He shrugged, playing with one end of his scarf.
He was wrapped in it almost up to his cheeks, looking a little out of place in the fancy restaurant. His most elegant clothes weren't enough for this place, but Simon never seemed to mind him sticking out like this. They were opposites, the other's outfit crisply pressed and well fitted. It made his wrinkled face and white hair look regal.
"And I'm so glad to hear it, my boy." The old man smiled, showing off a couple missing teeth. "Once you've tried good tiramisu, you'll never want to come back. I remember when it started becoming popular some few decades ago, I fell in love instantly."
"Careful, you're making my expectations really high here." Mike chuckled, glancing out of the window. He could appreciate the choice to put a café so far up, even if the view of London never stopped being so damn... gray. Like the city was choking in its own nature. "Anyway. How did the exhibition opening go?" He asked, trying to change the subject. His social skills were still rather clunky, but talking like this helped. He didn't have to worry about being judged.
Simon laughed softly. "Oh, it was just grand. Lots of people came, there was wine... but there's no point just talking about the art, you really ought to just come by. The subject of the paintings would appeal to your taste."
"Is that so?" Mike tilted his head, leaning forward a little in interest. "I don't think you've mentioned it yet." Their past couple meetings were filled with explanations and advice from the older man, with little chatting involved. Simon seemed to be more curious about Mike's life than interested in sharing much about his own.
The man nodded, his expression lit up with a spark of excitement. "It's our patron, of course."
"Out patron. The Vast." Mike repeated the words he'd been turning over in his mind for days. His patron. The infinite. "You paint the sky?"
"I try to capture it the best I can, yes. I like to think I've become quite good at it over the centuries of practicing." Simon laughed as if it was a joke they were both in on. Mike wasn't sure if they were, but he supposed he did have more context for it than most people. "Some even fall into them."
"Okay?" Mike said, a little unsure how to take that. "I'd come, but... isn't your exhibition one of the fanciest in London? I need to eat this week." He shook his head. "Maybe next time?"
Simon waved his hand. "Don't be silly, my boy. I'll get you free entry." He said like it was nothing. "I think it would be quite a valuable experience. People get a lot out of being around art..." He trailed off, likely stopping a rant before it began. "No matter now. I will get you in, I just need to know when you have free time."
Mike chuckled humorlessly. "Everyday before four. Finishing college feels so weird, I don't know what to do with myself now. I'm probably going to look for a better job, my savings and shitty pay can only last so long." He shrugged. "But thank you. I'd love to come."
"A bit aimless, eh?" Simon tilted his head. "You know, it took me a while too to find my footing in life. It's worth it to go around for a bit, travel... really offers inspiration."
Mike scrunched up his nose. "Yeah, I don't think traveling's in the cards for me right now. Maybe when my savings look a little better. I wanted to go to Iceland eventually..." He mused. "Have you ever been?"
"Not yet, I'm afraid." The old man shook his head. "But I have heard it's beautiful. Lots of open space." He smiled fondly. "I ought to go sometime."
The conversation was cut off by the waitress coming over to the table. She placed an elegant glass bowl filled with tiramisu in front of each man. "Thank you." Mike nodded politely, looking down at the dessert before him. "You've hyped this up a lot, so I do hope it won't be disappointing." He hummed, picking up a small spoon.
"Oh, it couldn't possibly be. Come on, give it a try." Simon encouraged, already scooping up some of the cream from the side.
Mike mimicked the movement, pulling his scarf down to make sure it wouldn't get dirty. He brought the spoon up to his lips, finally tasting the dessert. It was cool and creamy, not too sweet. The hints of cocoa added a whole new dimension to the flavor, right before he was hit by light bitterness of the coffee and a mild burn of alcohol. He swallowed, sighing contently. "...okay, this is heavenly." He conceded.
Simon smiled proudly from the other side of the table. "Told you so. This is one of the best places for it. I found they care about the authenticity quite a bit, which I appreciate." He said, getting another spoonful.
"Thanks for inviting me here." Mike said after another bite, finally managing to give the old man a proper smile.
"Oh, the pleasure is all mine." Simon assured, waving his hand dismissively. He did that often, as Mike had observed over their last couple meetings. "I'm just happy to introduce you to this new world, my boy. I wish I had the same luxury when I first fell into it."
Mike nodded slowly. "I appreciate it." After then, they were quiet. Conversation still tired him easily, and he was grateful for the chance to have a silent meal with someone who understood him. A pretty damn good meal, at that.