"Oui, I am here and I come bearing sustenance. A picnic, actually," he said brightly, holding up all the items in his hands. "I promise." It was hard to cross his heart with a bag, but he managed some shambled version. He followed her into the flat, somewhat surprised at how homey everything looked. How comfortable and normal and so far from the stuffy, antique-filled chateau the Beauchenes called home. Yes, the furniture was worn and scuffed and mismatched, but it fit the owner quite well. Not because she was worn or scuffed or mismatched, but because she was eclectic and down to earth and so very human. It kept a grin on Nick's face as he quickly spread his rich green blanket on the floor and started unpacking everything he'd brought. They didn't need to bother with plates; it was better to just eat from the container. His father had sent silverware, however, which added just a touch of fancy to the night.
"Should we charm a few candles? Some mood music?" Nick joked, laughter clear in his voice. "I thought we would celebrate."