Mercedes-Backdated like woah-Tuesday Supper
(Backdated to the evening after this thread)
Paperwork had been finally dealt with, and was well out of the way. Staff had been dismissed for the evening, the office locked up, and even Mrs. Andrews had been bustled home to her husband. Jonas sighed happily, put his hands on his hips and smiled. He'd dressed the kitchen table plainly but neatly. A crisp cotton tablecloth lay over the wooden slats, with fresh cut flowers (and a matching small posy next to the vase), bread, cheese, sliced meats and various pickles all laid out on top. Thick white candles stood on wooden candlesticks, and the whole effect was warm and welcoming.
Jonas had scrubbed up, his skin feeling on the edge of sensitive-clean that was most refreshing. It made him ultra-aware of how he moved under his clothes, and he felt that set a good precedent for the evening. He wore a dark red crisp shirt, a black waistcoat and clean dress trousers to match, and he'd swapped boots for polished black shoes.
He took his pocketwatch out for about the umpteenth time, as he paced the floor again. It was edging towards 7pm, the time Jonas had invited Mercedes around to join him for supper. He was that focussed on ticking down the seconds that he jumped near on out of his skin when he heard a soft knock at the back door.
When he'd recovered, he exhaled long and low, and headed to answer the door. "Well, here goes nothing, dog," he murmured in the general direction of Digger, who was curled in front of the stove. As Jonas slid back the lock, the dog took a brief flicker of interest, before settling back. Jonas chuckled. "Great guard you are," he murmured as he opened the door.