While she waited for the food, she slowly and methodically began to tidy the books she had amassed on her table. Much as she might prefer to lose herself in their pages rather than risk further uninvited conversation, she did not wish to spoil them with carelessness. At least the task kept her briefly occupied.
The dish was not long delayed, and arrived with enticing aroma. She was not especially hungry, though she would not be wasteful, and likely Kōta would fall upon anything that might be left. She thanked the server, and asked them to again pass on her gratitude to the General Manager for his recommendation, and for his attentiveness.
Meanwhile, she was aware, of course, of the low hum of conversation about the room. Eido seldom paid overt attention to the things around her, but long years of training bred a purposeful awareness. She did not look up straight away; not until that peripheral awareness felt the weight of attention from another table. Though she’d heard them she had not assumed the words to be for her, and she found the invitation singularly strange. Her gaze skimmed the two men, but did not linger long on either. Her head dipped a greeting, not cold, but not overly receptive either. She was not offended by the offer, but her company was not something to covet. There was no way to explain the reasons for that, though, and she would not be rude to strangers. And perhaps especially not to ones who spoke of honour.
“Thank you for your generosity. I am waiting for someone,” she said. Her voice was low for a woman’s, and soft. She was not curt; if anything she seemed apologetic. “But they are quite late, and they are not expecting food. It was an imposition to sit here without it for as long as I have been waiting, without patronising the establishment.” He was unlikely to take umbrage with such a polite refusal. She imagined his attention would soon divert.
((ooc: WHOOPS. I’m so sorry for never responding to this!))
Seven was not so easily deterred. With one shoe, shining jet black, he nudged out the accompanying chair and waved. “If that is the case, your patronization is now an obligation,” he said playfully. There was nothing accusatory in Seven’s smile, or in the agonizingly long time he held his hand in the air as if refusing to rest until joining them. Ultimately, he would respect the wishes of a stranger, but sometimes one must insist thrice to gain the favor of another.
There was a streak of jealousy that coursed through Xander. Z just smiled and ignored it. But still it was there underlying in his actions. Xander shook his head and chuckled. "Seven, I think the lady would not like our company, no matter how charming we are." He offered the woman a sympathetic smile. "Feel free to tell Seven, no. And I'm Z. But I think he really wants what's on your table and not ours. We could share. I hear the beignets are excellent." Her aura was giving off the go away vibe introverts and hermits gave off. But Seven was insistent and his aura spoke to it. There was no real way this was going to end well.
She didn’t meet either of their gazes, not directly. A chair nudged. An arm waved in her peripheral.
Most people presumed Eido was just painfully shy. She never saw reason to correct the assumption; it was a useful shield, for the most part, and more preferable to her than employing rudeness. Usually those who crossed her path lost interest when they realised she could not be coaxed from her shell. The attempts she always endured demurely, as she did now. Her fingers laced in her lap, patient as the cliff watching the endless rasp of the sea.
The man who called himself Z was kind on the heels of his friend’s bold tease. She did not need the permission offered, but he smoothed her path to a gracious retreat, and for that she was grateful. Her lips softened, close enough to be understood as a smile without slipping into the territory of an invitation, and her head tilted brief acknowledgement. It would have been easy enough to leave it at that, but it tasted too sourly of rejection on her part, and Eido felt no claim to such a weapon. She did not wish to be insulting, thus felt the need to clarify.
“Your company is not at fault, I assure you. Rather, I would not wish to be the onerous burden. I am not worth the effort of charm, I am better suited to the company of books.” Books she somewhat regretted carefully placing back on their shelves now, for at least it would have been a distraction. Eating while reading would have been disrespectful, though. “You are both quite welcome to share what I have. The dish came at the recommendation of the General Manager; a promised bite of heaven. Please. It would be a shame to allow it to grow cold.”
Seven recognized a dismissal when it came. He would not push the lady into further discomfort, nor was he offended by the vulnerability of rejection. His nature was to win hearts and bring a lightness to those cloaked in darkness, but sometimes the darkness was so pervasive, that simply casting a shadow was all the light that could be tolerated.
He nodded his head, explaining that the invitation remained if she changed her mind and turned back to present company with a smile.
Zander smiled back glad he gave up. Interrupting another's meal was one thing, but when clearly not wanted that was another. He could occupy Seven's attention. They had agreed to meet for food after all, and southern cooking wasn't exactly home cooking but it was well worth for a bit of nostalgia for home. But now that his oddly named friend returned his attention back to him proper Xander let some of his shields down. Special ones always gave him a headache, but how better to manipulate and gain information if you couldn't read them properly and Xander enjoyed all the tools at his employee.
Their server returned bearing the kitchen's fruit of labor and it smelled like a truly southern home then. Not that Xander had one of them -- but a few marks had. Xander took a bite of a seafood gumbo and let the auras and images float about while he deciphered them under the guise of checking out the delightful man before him. Flirting have been better but with a mouth full of southern goodness it was hard to do.
And then one imaged pulled hard on Xander's mind and the ring on the man's hand made more sense. A crown and a sigil, and the ring bore a likeness. Xander smiled finally having a reason to continue the charade. Xander reached across and tapped the ring on the man's right hand. "I've never seen the emblem before." It was a lie. "Looks like it might hail from an old time king?" Xander quirked a flirtaeous smile and his voice lit with humor and a bit of seduction. "I wouldn't be dining with the heir to some throne would I?"
Seven held the gaze of his dinner-mate, searching for what mysterious thought might possibly surprise him next. The steam of gumbo wafted tentalizing scents, but it was an ice-cold shell of oysters that Seven put to his mouth. He would always navigate to seafood. His mother said his blood must be salty, so connected to the water he was. But it was a graze of their hands that caused him to smile and use a napkin to wipe away the wetness from his lips.
“Yet alas, there are no thrones left to inherit,” he said, more aware than ever of an accent he long ago gave up trying to suppress. It was strange that only after he adopted the name of Seven did he become more comfortable in his own skin than ever before.
“This thing,” he waggled his fingers before taking off the ring and placing it on the table for Z’s inspection, “was a jewel of a find in a vintage store,” he said, knowing perfectly well that some people would call his story for bullshit, but Seven didn’t care. The ring was easily google-able; the family it represented easily identified. Proving that Seven was one of them would be harder, and most didn’t care to put out the effort anyway. Seven rarely stayed in one place long enough for anyone to try.
A sly smirk spread across his lips as Xander picked up the ring to inspect, sticking his forefinger through to the first knuckle and turned it for better inspection of the insignia. He hadn't needed to see it to know but it was polite in unknowing company. He set it back down for its owner to retrieve before he looked up on his companion again with a smile filled with bravado. "I'll pretend I believe that lie. It is a mighty beautiful find." Xander smirked taking his attention to his gumbo for a few more warm bites.
A soft chirp of Seven's wallet sounded and Xander sighed dramatically with a playful smile. "Oh fine, ignore me with another one of your play things." Xander chuckled softly and nodded. "It's alright. I'm not really that dramatic." He winked. "Unless you wanted me to be that is. I can make a really big scene. Embarrass the heir to the nonexistant throne."
He slipped the ring back upon his hand, thumbing it briefly back into place. The skin beneath was dented with the edges of long-term wear. He clearly wore the ring often. Perhaps Z recognized the symbolism, but Seven didn’t care. He appreciated those who respected his privacy, just as he turned the same hand of ignorance for others. Everyone had secrets.
Seven enjoyed another oyster, surprisingly fresh for being so far from the sea, while his companion teased. “I don’t embarrass easily, my friend. The bigger the scene, the grander the fun,” he said while carefully drying his fingertips before reaching for the wallet.
His gaze roamed the words a few moments before considering the invitation. “Care to visit Manifesto after we eat?” he tapped the edge of the wallet screen suggesting the question related to the message contained within.
There was a lot of information in that one simple sentence. Not one Xander would put to use immediately, but it could come in handy. Not that he wanted to embarrass Seven. The invitation was met with a smile and a glance down at the t-shirt and jeans he work as if he were back home in classic American attire. "I'd love to. But I don't think I'm dressed for the pomp and circumstance."
Xander didn't mention the fact that they'd spent the afternoon together, and then dinner and now clubbing. This was turning into something far bigger than he'd anticipated. Not that he was regretting it. Seven was pleasurable company and not bad to look at. And they had some things in common at least on the outset of things -- strange names being top of his favorites -- a number and a letter, whodathunk.
"Meet outside Manifesto in an hour?" Xander nodded down to their food. "Once we've finished our glorious meal. And enjoyed each other's company a little longer."