As always, he found himself watching her watching the world. As she leaned into him, his free arm slid around her waist, smiling down at her as she gushed about their surroundings. It was sweet, it was brilliant to know that she was enjoying it, because so much of it was just commonplace to him. It was nice to see it through her eyes for a night.
"Well, surrealism is kind of his thing," he pointed out, with a bit of a laugh. "Come here-" he told her, stepping forward to Dali' table to introduce her.
"Don't rip them up, that's a sure way to go crazy," he told him point blank. Dali looked up at him, eyes flicking between him and his date for a few seconds before he said anything.
"'Emingway. You seem to have lived ten years since we last spoke, and yet barely a week has passed," he told him, and Ernest shot Abi a slight look of panic, before just pretending to be offended by the observation.
"I do not mean in your appearance alone, it is in your eyes, it is in your soul. You are not the same man, something has changed, time is no longer moving in the same way. You are no slave to the linear," he told him.
"Umm- right, well, um- this is Ms Knightly, it's her first night in Paris," he told him, just to change the subject.
"Ms Knightly. Enjoy it. If I am not to rip them, then you should keep it for me-" he told her, adding a signature to the napkin, and handng it over.