The appearance of plastic cups gave Cara a momentary pause, but she was far too good not to do as he asked...although she was fairly certain the plastic was going to ruin some of the taste of the wine. She was almost on the verge of asking if he wanted to borrow a few of her glasses for the event...but it seemed he was preparing to serve.
This wasn't a bottle of cheap wine off the shelf; it was an import from Germany, and the producers had ensured it would reach its destination in style. After requesting (and presumably receiving) a corkscrew, Cara delicately poured the beverage into a pair of cups. The liquid splashed into each container, bursting into a sweet odor quickly overcome by the smell of the gumbo.
"Why, thank you," she answered with a small laugh conveying good-natured embarrassment, "And, no, I suppose it isn't what I expected." She set the bottle down on the counter and lifted her glass. "But to tell you the truth, I'm relieved. I came here to get away from New York dinner parties, to do something different. This is definitely different." That was an understatement.
She watched him pour dinner into a dish. It actually didn't look very appealing...but her nose suggested otherwise. Gently, she perched on the edge of the sofa and, with practiced grace, crossed one leg over the other. Her fingers smoothed down the material of her dress, even as she also wondered if the apparent lack of a dinner table would also be a problem.
Fortunately, Cara possessed a very adaptable personality. She was already beginning to relax and to shed the formality to which she was accustomed; if it weren't for the dress and a desire to keep gumbo from ruining the fabric, she would have settled a little further back on the sofa cushion.
"It smells fantastic, Shae. Where did you learn to cook?"