“Cole,” the name was meant to come out as a question but it fell harshly. So that was the fucker’s name. He might have seen it somewhere on the forum, a very brief period where he tried to skim old posts and immediately got overwhelmed. He’d have to check again when he had a chance. Despite knowing the man’s name, Rosalie didn’t look nearly as appalled as he was feeling. That didn’t bode well. “He’s too old for her,” he replied with a slight scowl. “She’s just a kid. And he’s… eighty.” Generalizations, he had them in spades.
There was another moment of panic, briefly distracted by this new attention to her lips and then immediately worried what this flash of hesitance meant. Soon enough she was back to talking, chattering away easily. Here and there were a few questions meant to spur her own, but as if reading his mind she answered them before he could open his mouth. Her choice for literature made him chuckle. That was definitely far from art. “An okay choice? Sounds more like destiny.” It was a small and admittedly bad joke but it was too ironic that she favored literature and ended up in a building full of characters.
The rest of the ride to the restaurant passed by quickly, almost too quickly, and once they arrived he offered her his hand once more to lead her into Bella Sotto. He briefly left her alone to speak in hushed tones with the maître d'. There was a little bit of discussion, a question or two and some name dropping. Curiously enough, none of them starting with ‘Stefan’ but thankfully he hadn’t told Rosalie his last name. A few moments later they were be walked to a quiet corner of the restaurant. He wouldn’t let the waiter hold out her chair, choosing to do it himself before sitting down. “Do you ever think about going back?” Not that he wanted Rosalie to leave, nor was he encouraging her. “It’s like you… you light up when you talk about it.” A huge grin bordering on goofy. “New York seems great so far but the way you talk about Paris, doesn’t seem like this can compare.”