Nick had the good grace to blush a little at Lavender's praise. She seemed to give it more freely with him of late, among other small changes. There was a sneaking suspicion in the back of his mind, but he refused to give it voice. Surely, she wouldn't ever entertain such thoughts. So he smiled and opened the various containers: there was coq au vin, baguettes, ratatouille, crème brûlée, and a selection of fine French cheeses along with a small bottle of yellow Chartreuse. Nick set the liquor aside in favor of the wine, a brilliant Sauvignon blanc developed centuries ago in Loire. He conjured two glasses and poured the sweet-smelling drink in equal measures.
"Merci." Nick smiled up at Lavender quickly. "I am glad to know you were there after all. I would like to have seen you. Perhaps next time. Here, dig in, as they say. It is all very...national pride, but still good food." Picking up a fork, he hesitated thoughtfully. "I think I like where you live."
The setup reminded him a bit of Ivy's flat, though that one had been strewn about with art and kitschy things. His parents would certainly not approve, but that made Nick all the more comfortable. His own cottage in Quiberon was a tiny hovel of a thing - Lavender would surely be shocked if she ever saw it. The electricity was questionable at best and generally went out at the barest hint of a nasty storm. It creaked and popped when the temperature fluctuated and had room for only Nick and a friend or two (if the friends bunked together or on the couch). Nothing at all like the grand place he grew up in, tucked away in the forests of Morlaix, and a whole other world from the mansion in Loire.
"My home in Quiberon is full of such things. Old things, with character. Neither of my parents has ever been there." Which didn't bother him in the slightest.