A little further down the line... “Who are those from?” Barnabus enquired, rather more sharply than he had meant to, eyeing the large bouquet that was on Delphine’s desk. She flinched at his tone, accustomed though she was to it from Mr. Penderghast. “Sorry. I’m so sorry - stressful meeting,” he apologised. How could he have snapped at her like that? Jealousy was such an ugly emotion. “You have an admirer?” he forced himself to smile.
Over the course of his life, there had been a few pretty girls who had turned his head. But that had been all it was. It hadn’t lasted, or formed into any deeper attachment. And thus, when his sister had brought an extremely attractive young witch to interview as his secretary, he had thought no more about it, despite the fact that he had found her very pretty - that was fairly well an undeniable fact, that anyone with eyes could have confirmed. Delphine Arbon was beautiful. But he had assumed that would be of little consequence. That, as with the girls of his past, his attraction would fade over time. It was really of the utmost inconvenience that it had not. Perhaps it was for the best, if she was seeing someone else. He was her employer. She was his secretary. It was horribly cliche, for one thing, and just a bad idea all round. Although he didn’t want to take to being snappish with her, but he wasn’t sure that he would be able to keep up the same manner towards her. He thought of their lunches. The long talks they had… If she became another man’s fiancee, could he continue to treat her as his intimate acquaintance? And, if not, what did that say of how appropriate his behaviour had been until now?
“They’re from Effie,” she replied. Adding, with a slight hint of embarrassment, “For my birthday…”
“It’s your birthday?” They were just from her sister. Thank Merlin! “Today? How dare you try to keep such a thing a secret! I insist upon taking you out to lunch.” And talking to you, admiring you… Wondering why you don’t realise how I feel for you. Was it her limited experience with men, he wondered? Did she presume the relations they had to be the standard between employer and employee? During her first few weeks, when she had questioned his kindness, he had - whilst not directly claiming it as such - compared it to brotherly regard. The truth was though, that his feelings towards her were not what they should have been as a brother, nor were those of an employer. But there was a close fellow of that first feeling, when extended to beautiful damsels that were not in one’s family, and that was playing the white knight. This was the role he had been aiming to fill ever since first meeting her. For all that she was proving more than capable of looking after herself, he wanted to save her from something, even if it was just boredom, or self-doubt, both of which he had no doubt plagued her constantly in the office.
Delphine smiled, delighted by the offer. Certainly it was not novel. She and Barnabus had lunch together rather frequently, and had become rather firm friends in the months since she had started, but she was not about to spoil the moment by pointing that out.
“There’s a new Japanese place, just opened up. Perhaps that would add a sense of occasion?” he offered, lifting her coat from the peg by the door and holding it out for her. She agreed, and they headed out for lunch.
She sat, staring at the menu, the unfamiliar names not accompanied by sufficient explanations for her to really know what any of them might be.
“Is there nothing you like?” Barnabus asked, noting the frown she was directing at the menu.
“Oh, no. Um... “ she bit her lip.
“Would you like me to order for you?” he offered, correctly guessing the problem this time but avoiding directly showcasing her ignorance. He was so good at that. It was one of the things she liked best about him - that he could naturally make a person feel calm and comfortable. He never made her feel stupid for the myriad things she did not know about the world.
“Yes, please.”
He uttered an incomprehensible string of syllables to their waiter and Delphine waited, trying not to look too nervous. When it arrived, the food looked delicious. There was sushi, which she recognised but had never tried, some small dumplings, something that looked like peas in their pods, and a seafood kind of salad thing.
“Salmon sushi, chicken gyoza, edamame, and ebi sunomono,” Barnabus educated her, punctuating each name with a gesture of his chopsticks, “You may take first pick, or we can share everything.”
“Let’s share,” she smiled, taking her own chopsticks and holding them rather helplessly.
“Like this,” he smiled, slowly placing each finger so she could see.
“This?” she queried, trying to imitate his grip.
“Almost,” he adjusted her hand slightly, and hoping that she didn’t notice his hand was shaking slightly. “There - perfect.”
She tried, but the chopsticks kept crossing over themselves, or the food slipping out from between them. In spite of his best efforts at education, her attempts were not particularly successful. Even with the help of a slight sticking charm to the tips of the chopsticks, she could not help feeling that the meal was a most inelegant affair.
“I’m sorry,” Barnabus apologised, as they stepped out onto the pavement, “I fear you haven’t had an enjoyable birthday lunch.”
“It’s me who should apologise. I must have looked so crass and clumsy. You must have been so dreadfully embarrassed to be seen with me.”
“I don’t believe anyone could think anything of the sort about you. And it seems that you’re the one whose cheeks keep turning red. No, I fear it is I that have embarrassed you - however misplaced I think that emotion is, none the less you feel it - and on your birthday no less. And why should you know how to use chopsticks? It’s hardly the backbone of good etiquette. I just… I grew up in the city. Growing up, the nearest Japanese restaurant must have been a hundred miles from you.”
“Yes. It lends itself to gaps, I suppose, where I grew up…”
“Everyone has gaps. Yours are just very different to mine, but I’m sure there are a great many things you know that I do not.”
“I sincerely doubt that.” As usual, he was trying to be kind. He was so good at being kind, but he was a well-educated boy from the city. She was quite sure she had nothing of intellectual value or life experience to offer.
“I am sure of it. And I look forward to finding out what they are.” He hesitated, before shoving his hands firmly in his pockets, trying to ignore the desire to place a friendly, comforting arm around her shoulders. “Back to work then?”