InsaneJournal

Nervous did not begin to cover it. Nora Alderton felt every movement of her body as she strode into Le Sorcier Affamé as if her joints were rusty sprockets in an engine, jerking and shaking his every turn. It was more than a little ridiculous, she knew, but with all the publicity her "relationship" with Madog MacDougal had garnered, Nora hoped there wouldn't be anyone lurking to take even sillier photographs.

Even more ridiculous was that Nora wasn't certain how Gawain would take to her new hair. Mina and Miriam had been inconclusive, and even if they had been one-hundred percent behind it, somehow Gawain's opinion ranked just a little higher (a fact which rankled her suffrage tendencies).

Then again, all of her worries disappeared the moment she caught sight of a familiar head of dark brown hair across the restaurant. The hostess, a fancy woman about Nora's own age, led her across the plush carpet to Robards, table for two, with swift efficiency. It was natural, she told herself, to allow that smile to steal across her face when they finally came upon him.

"Hello, sorry I'm a little late. I couldn't figure out what to wear, which is just -- stupid, isn't it?" Nora laughed.

Well, this was a familiar scenario.

Granted, this time Gawain knew who he'd be meeting that evening, and furthermore was fairly certain no untoward cartoons would be waiting for him in the journals the next morning. What he couldn't guarantee was a lack of disruptive owls -- it had been difficult enough managing to escape work in order to keep the dinner date, he didn't dare hope that he would be able to go home after it was through. How exactly he would explain that to Nora he wasn't entirely sure, but he figured he'd cross that bridge when he came to it (and in the meantime lit another cigarette).

But at the sound of her voice, and then the look of her when he lifted his eyes, Gawain had the sudden sensation that would be more difficult than he thought.

She had warned (not warned, he tsked to himself, told) him that she was blonde, but over the course of the hectic day he'd just had the fact had actually slipped his mind. That, combined with his natural tendency to go weak-kneed in the sight of blondes (for he was a gentleman, after all, and gentlemen do prefer them), meant he stared silently at her for a heartbeat or two longer than normal.

... then set his cigarette down and rose to greet her with a grin. "You look lovely," he assured, ducking to give her a kiss on the cheek. "And not so late, I've actually only arrived myself."

"Oh, that's convenient then," she chirped in reply, her mouth curving in a wider smile. Nora returned the kiss as chastely as it was given. Her penchant for running late was notorious in her circles, and it was a wonder she hadn't been more than ten minutes late when it came to Gawain. Chalk it up to the newness of the relationship. "I don't feel so terrible anymore."

Moving to sit down, she pressed her lips together to keep from looking too eager, but the intention was undone by her widening eyes. "This is exciting! No more hiding!"

That sparked a broadening of his grin as he gently tucked in her chair (during which time he respectfully refrained from taking advantage of the angle and looking down over her shoulder), and it was an expression that stayed as he smoothed out the front of his suit, sidestepped, and took his spot across from her once more. The cigarette that had been delicately rested in the ashtray was collected.

"It is," he conceded with a nod, and what's more he actually meant it. Probably not in the same giddy way that she had, of course, since to Gawain 'being public' with Nora meant being forthcoming with his friends about her, and he couldn't for the life of him think of a way of doing that which didn't result in them thinking he was at least partly mad (or worse -- desperate). Still, he was having a hard time ceasing his grinning.

He tapped a bit of ash before speaking. "So -- how's life as a blonde been?"

"I haven't noticed any difference in the level of fun I have," Nora joked, settling in more comfortably. Miriam's insistence that inanimate objects should snog as they were placed the Christmas tree - and being under the influence of mulled wine - had been the highlight.

Until now, of course.

A stiff waiter (with a crisply folded linen over his forearm) appeared at the table to collect drink orders. After the interruption, Nora turned to face Gawain with a nervous air. "No, seriously. How does it look? Is it that bad? Mina and Miriam were no help."

Considering that he'd barely been able to take his eyes off her even when the waiter had appeared to take their drink orders, Gawain felt it should have been obvious what precisely he thought about the new hair colour, but in this, like so many other things, he knew he needed to actually communicate his thoughts aloud, not just assume the other person could divine them.

"It looks..." His brow twitched in a mild furrow, his mouth shifting to the side as he exhaled a stream of smoke. "... like it's a good idea we didn't meet at my flat, or we would have skipped dinner entirely. For the next week." There was a grin once again forming. "You look stunning."

If Nora could have wiggled into a warm little ball in the middle of the restaurant without drawing strange looks, she might have at that reply. It was more than what she'd hoped for (a simple, "it's actually quite nice" would have sufficed), and got her pulse thudding harder.

"Not exactly the reply I was looking for, but I suppose it'll have to do," she replied, covering her mouth with curling fingers. But her cheeks were burning, and she was pretty sure that her face was as red as a tomato - a very unflattering tomato - and her cheeks were beginning to hurt from the wide grin on her face.

Perhaps it was some leftover anxiety that he would be overheard making that comment in a public place, but whatever unimpressed impression she was trying to make was ruined when she started giggling. "I'm sorry... It's not funny! I promise. It's just - we're in public, and it almost feels weird to be able to talk like that where just anyone can hear."

That prompted a brief glance about, as if indeed there might be eavesdroppers lingering about in the vicinity of their tiny table -- maybe he should curb what he said. After all, if he was embarrassed by the mere idea of being overheard, how humiliating would it be to be called out on it?

"I promise to tone it down," he confided with a dropping of his voice. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips all the same. It was very difficult to feel self conscious when she looked so bloody happy, and the sight of her laughing was enough to dim the memory of a grueling day's work within instants. "It's very becoming, that's all," he finished politely.

"No! Oh, no, please don't tone it down." Nora immediately regretted her laughter, and hoped she hadn't made him self conscious. The compliment had been well appreciated, after all, and it was one of a kind. "It's just new - out here anyway - and I've never been good with praise. I argue compliments. Seriously, Mina can tell you."

Of course, Mina would likely make some underhand comment about Gawain's just-got-shagged hair from the morning after the masquerade, which would just make things awkward all over again. There'd been more than enough awkwardness.

"I actually feel a little compelled to make a complete arse of myself just to get it out of the way." Nora leaned on the table conspiratorially, unaware (or uncaring) of how low cut her top was when she did so. "Fancy places like this always make me nervous. Like I just know I'm going to break a wine glass or trip someone very important."

Which she almost did when she leaned back, as the waiter had returned with their drinks.

The waiter was thanked with a polite murmur (coloured by a grin, because really, if Nora had knocked the man over it would've been at least somewhat amusing), and Gawain leaned forward to put out his cigarette before trading it for his drink.

"Don't be nervous," he instructed with an arched eyebrow and a warm tone. "That's my job. You never told me how tea with my cousin went."

"Your cousin is an absolutely wonderful woman who indulged my every question about young Gawain Robards, complete with photographs," Nora answered, snickering slightly at the remembrance. There really had been a hat (and she was right about knobby knees)! "She's a chatty thing, which was nice, actually. There's nothing worse than a quiet tea, where all you think about is how loud you're chewing or if you're using the right fork."

She tilted her head curiously. "But why is being nervous your job?"

"Because who knows what she told you about me," Gawain answered lightly, stealing a sip before he continued. "Or what you felt fit to ask about young Gawain Robards. Examples?"

Not that he was particularly worried about anything Susan might reveal, especially given that the most damning of his secrets were locked up elsewhere (ie. Morgan). That, and he trusted his cousin to exercise some restraint and not reveal every little detail, particularly not about the various women in his past -- or that the majority of them had been blonde.

Susan had spilled a fair bit of information, though none appeared to Nora to be secrets. some were things Nora already knew: Hufflepuff, Auror, bookish, protective (of a great many things in his life, not just his own personal space), talented. Some were things she didn't know: that his mother passed away nearly ten years ago, his exact age (which Nora was ashamed she'd never actually asked), that he liked comic books (though Nora wasn't clear if that was a past thing or a present thing).

"I asked her how her and my mum decided to set us up on that blind date, and it seems there was no grand plan. Susan said my mum is the one who started it, though, so I guess that makes me the more pathetic of the pair of us," Nora answered, smirking and flushing a little. "But it's nothing I hadn't heard before. Blah, blah, you're never going to meet a man playing for an all-girl team, blah blah."

A mode of thought that all but demanded he laugh at it -- after all, he predicted there were precious few male acquaintances of his that hadn't had some sort of daydream about the Holyhead Harpies at one time or another. Instead of say that aloud however, Gawain merely grinned, brow furrowing in mild confusion. "Really. And pathetic, not hardly. It's the right of all bright, beautiful young women everywhere to be choosy."

He was about to add that he'd not had a real girlfriend until he was her age himself (because damned if this good mood and strange case of the nerves wasn't making him feel a mite too forthcoming), but caught himself just in time, plugging anything else he might say with another drink.

Despite the conversation, this was beginning to feel like a first date, all pin cushions and nerves. Perhaps it was time to start drinking some of her gin and tonic. If nothing else, it would loosen her up. Nora was convinced she wouldn't be able to eat, merely shoving her food around her plate whenever it was brought around to give it an air of having been eaten.

"Yeah? What about handsome, successful Aurors? Are they not allowed to be choosy?" Her eyebrows curved upwards, and though it might have been considered rude, her elbows edged against the end of the table, her fingers steepling beneath her chin.

This time his smile was equal parts surprised and flattered, and despite the initial urge to downplay her compliment one way or another Gawain decided to just allow himself a moment to enjoy it. The Auror gave a note or two of laughter, glancing downward for a second. "I'd say I've been remarkably choosy -- I'm nearly forty and I've only just met a woman like you."

Two things. One; he hadn't meant to mention his age (though he supposed it was wishful thinking to let himself believe she thought he was in his early to mid thirties). Two; he hadn't meant for it to sound like he had been saving himself for her, which, combined with the forty year old revelation, would probably firmly mark him as the pathetic one.

In the end, it didn't really matter what he'd intended or not intended to say, because Nora was looking at him with stars in her eyes just the same. Her grin turned a shade softer before she realised she hadn't said anything in return. To buy some time, though, she took another sip from her drink, her eyes still on him.

"You're doing it again, Gawain, being totally adorable. Don't know if I'll live through dinner at this rate," Nora warned him.

Which was more or less another compliment, which meant that it was more or less welcome. After all, she hadn't described him as cute (which really would have demanded that he down the whole of his drink then and there).

"If there is anything that is going to stop me from continuing in that vein," he began, setting his own drink down even as she lifted hers. "It is being called adorable. Consider my lips sealed on the subject -- you're safe."

"As long as they're only sealed through dinner..." Then she lifted her eyebrows in assurance for the deal, because really. Really. Compliments sent a girl's heart aflutter, from the right boy.

Nora cleared her throat, took another gulp, and pressed on. "So, comic books? I didn't see any of those in your flat."

That stopped him short. Gawain paused, watching her for a moment or two as if he hadn't heard correctly, then tilted his head to the side as his eyebrows flattened. Historically his interest in comic books hadn't been seen as particularly alluring by women, which was fine, because the last thing he wanted to do was discuss the various virtues of Detective Comics with any woman he hoped to sleep with (for were he to do so, common sense dictated that said hopes would be swiftly dashed).

"I... used to collect them, yes," he replied, clearing his throat and giving a slightly confused, slightly suspicious smile. "Do you read comic books?"

"A few, but only in passing. I don't even remember which ones." Nora leaned forward on her elbows. She gave him a slight smile that seemed to indicate that he should know what she was about to say. "My brother. He's got a tonne back at the house. Couldn't be seen without them for a while there. Think I snatched a few from him to see what the fuss was about. He read something about a man who was bitten by a spider? Don't remember much about it."

Here, she paused to take another sip. "What did you read?"

"It's..." Gawain shook his head, smile becoming close lipped and quite obviously embarrassed (but at least he was owning that fact, he reckoned). "... mostly a series that revolved around a crimefighting millionaire -- who dresses in costume. They all do, really."

He stifled the urge to tell her that the bloke she'd been speaking about was Spiderman, and that his issues vis-a-vis spiders went beyond simply being bitten by a normal one, which was something he knew he would have been incapable of suppressing even a scant fifteen years ago. "Good to know I'll have something to chat with your brother about over the holidays, at least."

"My brother is going to bloody love you," Nora told him earnestly, though she couldn't say that she didn't find his embarrassment mostly relieving. It reminded her of their first date, drinks in Liverpool. Two sweetly-made statements had completely melted her, and she knew she was a goner when it came to Gawain Robards.

That warm sensation of wanting to curl into a ball - preferably tucked under his arm - overcame her. She sighed and said, "I already know I'm gonna fall in love with you."

Next second, she seemed to realise she'd said that out loud, and her eyes went wide. "Ohmygod! Canyoupretendyoudidn'thearthatPLEASE?"

It was a lot to absorb all at once. Gawain's mouth had opened to reply to Nora's initial (unintentional) statement with something that would hopefully defuse the awkward tension bound to follow -- but said awkward tension was swiftly heightened to far greater proportions that he was prepared to handle by the ensuing flood of words. As such, he felt himself in the rare position of feeling thrown for a loop, and his reaction time suffered for it. The Auror blinked, hand frozen around his glass, and... shut his mouth again.

"I... could pretend, if you'd like me to." Words that made him feel like a complete tosser the moment they were past his lips. A very dim smile edged back onto his face, tentatively. "Though if it's a question of one or the other, I'd much prefer you. No offense to your brother."

"I really need to learn how to think before I open my mouth," Nora woefully complained into her hands. Both were covering her very warm face, making it difficult to hear her, especially when you consider she was mumbling as well.

Her chair made two scrapes as she pushed back. "If you - wouldn't mind, excusing me for a moment, I'm going to - go slit my wrists in the loo. I'll be back."

A call to action if he ever heard one. Gawain's hand abandoned its hold on his glass, instead reaching forward in an attempt to take hers before she rose. His eyebrows lifted in puzzlement even as he tried to infuse his smile with some degree of reassurance. "Nora, sit down -- it's fine." He wasn't entirely sure whether he should be offended or not by a declaration of (future) love so swiftly devolving into a death wish, but in this case decided to be concerned with her feelings first.

"It's all right," he repeated, half laughing.

"It's not all right! That's the sort of thing you say in your head, not out loud, and definitely not on a date with the person you - " Nora shook her head, but sank back into her chair. Red-faced and embarrassed, she swallowed, unable to look him in the eye.

But at least she could still drink, and her gin and tonic was suddenly the most fascinating thing ever. Sheepishly, she asked, "Erm, change of topic? Please?"

Gawain's smile became a trifle muted at her response, until -- while her focus was fixed quite pointedly on her drink -- it faded entirely. He could feel his forehead creasing in some concern, but took a moment to take a breath and smoothe it out before she could see. That damned self consciousness was descending on him again, and even though he fought against it taking root, he couldn't help but feel at least somewhat ridiculous in the face of her nigh overwhelming chagrin. That, and he didn't especially want to change the topic. That was a good topic as far as he was concerned, especially since he was fairly certain it was all meant half in jest anyway. In that light, why were Nora's feelings for him so humiliating for her? Didn't she realise he was equally serious about her? Good God, it wasn't as if he made a habit of carrying on secret affairs with twenty year olds.

It wasn't worth dwelling on, he decided. Gawain put aside his natural tendency to analyse everything to death and finally spoke after a short clearing of his throat. "Yes, well, I suppose we should set about deciding what we want to eat anyway."

A measure of disappointment (in herself, in his seeming lack of reciprocation) trickled down her neck as she glanced up at him (finally) to give him a well-meaning, if a bit stiff, smile. If only he knew that her embarrassment was over her opening her mouth at all, and not at what she'd actually said. She'd meant what she said, but his lukewarm reaction and laughter was the exact reason she'd pleaded with him to ignore what she'd admitted. The desire to explain was overwhelming.

For now, though, she simply picked up her tiny menu and swallowed back her emotions. "I haven't been here enough to know what's good. Do you have any suggestions?"

His hand rose to slip to the inside of his jacket, only to be suddenly reminded that he'd just smoked his last cigarette -- which was irritating. Gawain took another sip of his drink in order to get on top of the feeling. It wouldn't do to come off as annoyed, or worse still, allow it to carry over into how he spoke to Nora. He also didn't want to seem reserved, but Merlin, he didn't want to somehow put her on the defensive again.


"I haven't been here in ages myself," Gawain admitted (and the last time he had been it had been with another girlfriend, so best not to mention that either). He gave his mouth a short rub, eyeing the menu himself. "Is there anything you especially don't care for...?"

"I'm not such a fan of eggplant...? Aside from that, I'm fairly experimental. The worst that can happen is I don't like it, right?" She had no allergies, and she wasn't a particularly picky girl when it came to eating.

Nora really wished she'd insisted on heading to the toilets. She could have regained her wits without coming off as awkward, then she could return to the table and laugh off her faus-pax. Instead, Gawain would witness the whole thing, and she ended up feeling terribly, terribly young. The first - technically second - date in the Wizarding World might actually be the last if this kept up. Maybe there was too much pressure. Maybe there was something to keeping it (mostly) to themselves. That was depressing.

"Hmm, maybe seafood of some sort. Something where I won't have to do anything special to eat it, though. Nothing on fire, I mean," she said, attempting to make a joke and looking at him. "I think my hair is actually more flammable now."

Intellectually he recognised that she was making a joke (or at least taking a stab at levity), and so he gave a slight smile in order to assure her that he appreciated it. It was a rather token expression compared to his previous grinning, but the recent bout of awkwardness had left him feeling rather subdued. Maybe it was a maturity issue, as much on his part as on hers. There was the very real possibility that they both wanted different things because of their respective experience (or lack thereof), and maybe what felt obvious to one had barely even occurred to the other. After all, it wasn't exactly something they'd discussed...

Then again, maybe he was overanalysing things again.

"Nora," he began, eyes now off the menu and instead seeking to secure her gaze in return. "Do you mind... do you mind if we have a word? Outside?"

Oh. That wasn't... good. Doused in metaphoric ice water, she blinked rather stupidly at him before she managed the tiniest of nods in return. Was this how it was going end, standing outside in the London cold after the biggest blunder in the history of blunders? At least, Nora consoled herself, she wasn't the only one to have put her foot in her mouth before, and she'd be in good company in the Just Been Dumped club (Miriam would break out the expensive ice cream).

"Yeah, sure." This time, she eased her chair back gently, making a point to be as quiet as possible. Maybe no one would notice them slip out the door? Just to be on the safe side, though, she took her tiny clutch with her. Nora didn't want to have to come back inside to fetch it should this go the way she assumed it would.

Now that he knew what he was about to do (well, insofar as he knew he was going to walk to the door and exit the restaurant sans coat -- it was all a little murky past that) Gawain's motions were infused with a great deal more certainty. He rose, tucked in his chair, re-buttoned his jacket and began to stride as inconspicuously as possible to the nearest exit. As ever, the door was held open for Nora.

Ah, perfect. It was colder than he recalled it being.

With a thoughtful expression comprised of a furrowed brow and a slight frown, the Auror took a step, paused, glanced at Nora, looked as though he were about to speak, paused again, then said, "I..."

Then shut his mouth and paused again.

Nora rubbed her arms, shivering like a great big idiot for not bringing her coat with her. Even if this was a temporary step outside, it was still a step outside in November. Very clever, Nora.

Was he stepping toward her? Was he walking past her? What had he been about to say and then... stopped. This was worse than she thought. And the silence begged her to speak, to fill it with something - anything - at this point.

"I made you uncomfortable with what I said." Nora swallowed hard. "It's too early for that, and for all I know, you're not even looking for anything more... permanent... But - it's probably for the best that I said it, in retrospect, because then we can get that all out now and I wouldn't feel like I'd - and you wouldn't end up feeling trapped." She felt like she might start hyperventilating or getting sick. Maybe both.

She glanced up at him, trying not to show just how sad the idea that he didn't want to pursue anything beyond shagging with her and failing. Nora took a step toward him. "Will you please say something? Something that's not a joke, please? I can take it; I'm a big girl."

This really wasn't helping his sudden bout of speechlessness.

Not that he was unclear on the content of what he wanted to say, just the method of going about actively saying it eluded him. In a perfect world he could have written it in a letter (and maybe he would have later, he thought with some irritation, if he hadn't just asked her to bloody step outside), because for him the difficult part had always been in actually speaking his feelings aloud. Genuinely, without couching them in a joke or dry aside.

... especially in public, and damned if they weren't in public now. Gawain summoned up the wherewithal to step toward Nora in turn, and tried to focus on her, not the street surrounding them. Replying directly to anything she'd just said felt clumsy and imprecise -- so he set about removing his suit jacket instead.

"I know I'm not the easiest man to read at times," he began, brow furrowing as he pulled his arm from the sleeve. "And I know, believe me, that there are differences between us, and that there are going to continue to be those differences -- but," he paused to take another step forward, swinging his jacket around her so that it settled on her shoulders. "... but I think one of the key ones is that I already fell in love with you when you helped me stain that set of Edwardian dining chairs." He cleared his throat. "... miniature, Edwardian dining chairs."

Gawain glanced away, gaze following his hand as he delicately adjusted the collar of his jacket against her neck.

Well.

That was the opposite of expected. That was a complete 180 from what she'd expected. Unexpected just didn't seem to cover just how unexpected it was.

So unexpected that Nora stared at him with her mouth partially hanging open, practically gaping. She was only vaguely aware of the coat over her shoulders, the weight of his hands there. While she was too stunned - formulating a reply that didn't comprise of the sentences: what?, really?, and because of the miniature dining chairs? - her feet inched forward, until her folded arms pressed against his abdomen and her face tilted upward and just a tick to the side to keep her gaze trained on him.

"So you're not breaking up with me?" The small laugh that accompanied the words was more of disbelief than genuine mirth.

Was she joking? He wasn't entirely sure. What he was sure of was the relief flooding him as she stepped closer, then the warmth of her as she pressed against his chest. And as if she might change her mind at any moment, Gawain opened his arms and wrapped them around her.

He would feel guilty that she would even think that for a second later, he decided. For now he hoped that actions spoke louder than (fumbling, stilted) words, and gave a faint, relieved sort of smile, and leaned down to kiss her.

Maybe one day, she would look back on all of this and think what she suspected deep down: that Gawain was actually terrified that he would die without having someone to mourn him. For now, though, she was too wrapped up in the feel of him and his words to give much notice to that. That slow motion imagination that took hold of her the very first time he kissed her in her doorway grabbed a hold of her now.

...so when there was a pop! and a flash of light to their right, she had time to jerk her head in that direction just in time to see a photographer snap their photograph.

"Hey! Hey! Come back here," she called after the photographer who immediately took off down the Alley the moment she saw him. Another crack! and he was gone.

Just like the moment. "Bugger."

One of Gawain's arms remained around Nora -- or rather in front of her, as his immediate reaction to the flash of light in his periphery was to attempt to push her behind him, while the other hand reflexively took to his wand. Unfortunately enough time had been sacrificed while he'd been absorbed by the kiss that he wasn't able to get a spell off before the photographer Disapparated. He lowered his wand, attempting to relax. Given the past few minutes though, that wasn't exactly easy to do.

But then his mind caught up with the rest of him and the Auror tried to reassure himself that it had merely a camera flash (a photographer, however, could be as nearly as bad as a Death Eater if they belonged to the bloody press, he thought wryly), and there was no immediate danger. He set his jaw, sighing, and turned glance at Nora. "Perhaps we should go back inside..."

"Goddamnit, little bastard," Nora complained, barely containing her hissy fit with a few choice stomps in her heels. There was some growling and a frustrated snarl as well.

The one thing on their side, she tried to tell herself, was that she didn't recognise this photographer, and after nearly two months as Madog MacDougal's "girlfriend," she thought she could identify them all. Hoped. She hoped she could. "Argh, what a prat! Ruining that moment! I could smack him for that."

Right away Gawain felt apologetic. After all, he was the one who had suggested they move outside, and he somehow doubted there would have been photographers lurking within the restaurant proper. With a final glance in the direction of the alley, he looked back at Nora and rubbed her arm (perhaps with a bit of a nudge back towards the door).


"Nothing to be done about it, I'm afraid," he frowned. And moment ruined or no (for, in an uncharacteristic bout of optimism, he still believed it could be salvaged), he suddenly didn't much feel like lingering about restaurants at all -- inside or out, really. One eyebrow lifted as he looked back towards her. "... what now?"

Nora got his point, and if it weren't for the fact that she wanted to be seen out with him (she could honestly give a good goddamn what the rest of the world thought anymore), she would have suggested they head back to his place.

Reluctantly, her feet began to move toward the door. Then again, it was only reluctant until the next gust of wind rattled her teeth. Feeling a little more confident, she reached over and took his hand as they stepped up to the door. "It's freezing."

Gawain allowed her to take his hand, but even as she stepped forward he refused to give ground. Yes, it was freezing, particularly now that he'd given up his jacket, but he reckoned he'd lived through worse. Instead of letting himself be led forward he used their joined hands to pull her back towards him -- and if he'd timed it right, then she would turn just as he leaned forward to sweep her into another kiss.

... to be fair, it was half to spite the runaway photographer. Whatever picture the stranger had taken, the Auror was determined to out-do it.

"Wha -" Mission accomplished; timing was practically impeccable. A few moments of snogging bliss, and Nora remembered exactly why she'd been swept off her feet by Gawain Robards. He had a flare for the dramatic, which nearly any woman would tell you was a great big bonus. As long as the dramatic wasn't in public fights.

Nora let the kiss stretch on as long as either of them could stand in this weather before she broke away, dizzy and grinning goofily. "You are just... full of surprises, Gawain. It's... too bad we have to go back in there."

"We don't," he supplied immediately, attempting to keep his own grin in check. Within a minute it faltered as sense trickled back into his skull, and Gawain glanced upward, tilting his head for an instant. "Well... I do, actually, to... pay for the drinks, and collect our coats..."

The arms around her tightened for a moment, half to warm her, and half to warm him, before finally loosening as he reluctantly let Nora go. Gawain lifted a hand to the side of her head, gently brushing her newly blonde hair. "But we don't have to stay?"

"Let's go to your place. We can order take-out and lounge about," she whispered, leaning up to kiss him softly. It was a side-affect of his hand in her hair, she was sure. Nora wasn't afraid to admit she enjoyed being petted.

Easing back onto her heels, rather then her tip-toes, she grinned more than a little saucily. She waggled her eyebrows. "Stay naked for the whole of the evening."

While he hadn't really read the thing over in great detail, Gawain was fairly positive Le Sorcier Affamé didn't have anything on menu to compare to that. The eyebrow waggle helped sell it too (not that her suggestion needed the aid).

"... I'll get the coats," he answered promptly, and whereas before he'd been slow in letting her go, now he was moved to action nigh immediately (though not before he'd given her hair once last brush behind her ear).