ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ sᴘɪᴅᴇʀ (anotherwidow) wrote in crownplazaic, @ 2021-09-09 14:07:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread, will graham, yelena belova |
WHO: Yelena Belova & Will Graham
WHERE: restaurant and then the streets of Seattle
WHEN: [backdated] evening of 9/8
WHAT: date night goes horribly awry
STATUS: Complete
WARNINGS: mild spiciness, mostly blood and violence
Yelena has never been to Seattle. Nothing in the way of missions had her visiting the Pacific Northwest. Some people seemed to think that American cities did not have their own distinct personality the way elsewhere did - London, Paris, Berlin, Tokyo, etc. - but Yelena did not think that was 100% true. New York City did not feel like Los Angeles. Boston did not feel like New Orleans or Washington DC. Now that they were here, even if it was an alternate version of Seattle, the way she's heard about others talk about another time when the hotel brought them to New York City, she was looking forward to the new experiences only this city could provide. She was supposed to wait and go shopping for a new outfit with Zemo and Tom and whoever else were tagging along for the trip. However, when Will said yes to dinner, she had gotten a little too excited with making plans. Pleased he wasn't sick of seafood yet, Yelena secured a reservation at a quiet restaurant with a view. The plan was to start with coffee, move on to seafood, and see where desserts would take them... Tucked away in a small booth in the corner of this spot called The Pink Door, Yelena smiled as she looked around at the patrons dining at the other little tables spaced out across the room, dimly lit by candlelight. Real candlelight. The menu contained clams, mussels, and prawns. Seafood of a variety they didn't usually get from their own fishing. Soft jazz emanated from the adjacent room. She turned back to look at Will. Even though he made the point of saying he wasn't a complete hermit, she also knew that he's made the point more than once that he wouldn't want to live in a big city, given all the many sensory distractions. The large platter of raw oysters sat on the table in between them. Usually appetizers, but Yelena was enjoying them as a palate cleanser, after the rich flavors from the spicy tomato and white wine broth of her cioppino. She left off the horse radish, but with a squeeze of lemon, she picked up an oyster, used the tiny fork to unattach the meat from its shell, and let it slide into her mouth. "Are you doing okay?" she asked, chasing the delicately briny taste with a sip of a white wine that was recommended as a good pairing. |