Thread: Cuisine française WHO: Felicity Bainbridge and Galad Rubinhart WHEN: Oct. 10 (backdated) WHERE: French restaurant elsewhere in Maine
The restaurant was nicer than a bistro, but not quite the high end place that Felicity was accustomed to. She could handle it just fine, and the menu itself showed that the food would at least, hopefully, meet her standard of quality. She wore a simple black dress with heels that made her equal to Galad in height. She'd doted on her makeup before hand to accent the blue of her eyes and the fine lines of her facial structure. Diamond solitaire earrings, ruby red lipstick, and her favorite necklace completed the look. Dressing up wasn't for Galad though, but for herself. She liked her reflection as much as any pretty girl, though the appraising look Galad had given her when they met up to leave had been a stroke to her ego.
"Hmm," she scanned the menu, "They don't have truffles here. I suppose it's a little rich for them." A pity, but not terribly surprising. Were they in a larger town, maybe New York, they could find that sort of dish more readily available. The waiter arrived as she continued her perusing of the menu, he held a bottle of wine in his hands, offering them a glass. Either he was smart enough to know who each of them were, or he had no idea that they were under the drinking age for America and their homelands. However, it hadn't stopped either of them from partaking before.
She looked at Galad, a smirk, and then back at the menu. She wondered if he was going to accept it or send him away. It was interesting to see Galad, wild as he was, handle himself in fancier restaurants. He could, but it was such a change from his normal thrill-seeking behavior. Gil was usually a part of that trouble, but Galad could get into plenty on his own.