Re: The Bohemian/The Companion
They couldn’t have been in more perfect alignment. Phoenix had no interest in seeing plain all gussied up, made over like a cheap starlet once she struck the big time. Nor did the plain need to be coddled, told all the ways in which they were naturally beautiful in the deep-down and the in-between. Phoenix, they liked to be coddled. But they certainly weren’t any good at paying it forward or playing it out from a closely held hand.
Their shoulders still shook with remnants of laughter as they leaned to the side, lifting one arm and clapping their palm to their temple so that they could lean on that elbow as they picked up the teacup with the other hand and drank, set it down and filled it again. The waiter was coming back now, pushing a little cart loaded up with their spoils: sweet Sopressata, proscuitto, salami, blue cheese, habanero havarti, soft brie and a wheel of gouda for good measure. Cured olives sat in a little china bowl and crackers spilled out of their sleeve. Phoenix whooped and the waiter most decidedly did not frown, which just further cemented how badly he wanted to do so as he set the woman's tea service down in front of her.
“If you’ve got any pointers, I’m all ears,” Phoenix said, with an expectant glance across the table as the selection was placed on the table between them. They snatched two slices of salami with their fingers and folded them into half-moon shapes, holding them up in front of each ear for a moment and trying desperately to keep a straight face. Yes, the shiraz had gone straight up to their head and straight down to their spine, seething their insides into a roil of sparkle and flash. At least it'd given them an appetite back. And at least they waited to finish chewing and swallowing the meat before they spoke, washing it down with the remainder in their teacup. “I don’t think I’ve stopped running since the day I was born.”