06-09-2020, 09:38 PM
Ephraim chuckled at the retort. The message was quite clear, and Seven could think whatever he wanted, but the strings were still there.
The fee was extortionate and flamboyantly made. He wondered if his barbed humour had inflated the number no matter the generosity insisted, which was unfortunate if so, but too late to rectify now he supposed. Seemed that mild exterior hid something a little more prickly -- though he was curious as to whether it was a matter of pride, or something else.
Amusement lingered, like he was not aware of having done anything to warrant suffering his own words shoved back at him. He considered negotiating, but did not want to parry for it, so he only nodded. “I want quality, and I pay for it. That’s acceptable.”
Zhenya was smiling when she returned, her hand brushing the back of Seven’s shoulder as she moved around the arrangement of furniture to reclaim her seat. Though she sensed something of a waning edge to the atmosphere, and her gaze moved a brief query between the two men, she did not comment. Ephraim could be an acquired taste.
“I trust you’re content with the vodka, Eph,” she said with a coy glance at the bottles still on the table, and he laughed, waving his present glass at her. Her gaze slid to Seven afterwards, a little mischievous. “Innovation had some help,” she said of the drink. “I suppose some things take two, no?”
It arrived on an elaborately tiered tray a moment after, smokey with tendrils of opium incense. The curved cup at its centre was made of gleaming marble of the purest white, smoother than silk and promising to be heavy in the palm -- in fact almost otherworldly in its oval design. A garnish of isonoyuki rice paper in swirls of purple and white lay hand carved into a feathered triangle, alongside a hand-grown rose of swirling peach and pink. Sanscho pink peppercorn oil droplets floated its surface, the liquid itself of deepest black; an inescapable darkness all the more mesmerising for its brilliant white marble casing.
With a rather delighted smile Zhenya thanked the attendant, who presently leaned to deliver the beverage with a flourish. She assumed Seven would enjoy the theatrics -- for it was quite a magnificent looking beverage, as artfully presented as it was sure to be divine to the taste. Gin-based, of course, as he had stated to be his preference. She seemed keen to absorb his reaction, but in the way of someone who simply enjoyed the pleasure derived in giving. She winked at him. “Enjoy.”
[[drink courtesy of Jaxen *wink* -- Seven I will pm you the full details]]
The fee was extortionate and flamboyantly made. He wondered if his barbed humour had inflated the number no matter the generosity insisted, which was unfortunate if so, but too late to rectify now he supposed. Seemed that mild exterior hid something a little more prickly -- though he was curious as to whether it was a matter of pride, or something else.
Amusement lingered, like he was not aware of having done anything to warrant suffering his own words shoved back at him. He considered negotiating, but did not want to parry for it, so he only nodded. “I want quality, and I pay for it. That’s acceptable.”
Zhenya was smiling when she returned, her hand brushing the back of Seven’s shoulder as she moved around the arrangement of furniture to reclaim her seat. Though she sensed something of a waning edge to the atmosphere, and her gaze moved a brief query between the two men, she did not comment. Ephraim could be an acquired taste.
“I trust you’re content with the vodka, Eph,” she said with a coy glance at the bottles still on the table, and he laughed, waving his present glass at her. Her gaze slid to Seven afterwards, a little mischievous. “Innovation had some help,” she said of the drink. “I suppose some things take two, no?”
It arrived on an elaborately tiered tray a moment after, smokey with tendrils of opium incense. The curved cup at its centre was made of gleaming marble of the purest white, smoother than silk and promising to be heavy in the palm -- in fact almost otherworldly in its oval design. A garnish of isonoyuki rice paper in swirls of purple and white lay hand carved into a feathered triangle, alongside a hand-grown rose of swirling peach and pink. Sanscho pink peppercorn oil droplets floated its surface, the liquid itself of deepest black; an inescapable darkness all the more mesmerising for its brilliant white marble casing.
With a rather delighted smile Zhenya thanked the attendant, who presently leaned to deliver the beverage with a flourish. She assumed Seven would enjoy the theatrics -- for it was quite a magnificent looking beverage, as artfully presented as it was sure to be divine to the taste. Gin-based, of course, as he had stated to be his preference. She seemed keen to absorb his reaction, but in the way of someone who simply enjoyed the pleasure derived in giving. She winked at him. “Enjoy.”
[[drink courtesy of Jaxen *wink* -- Seven I will pm you the full details]]
![[Image: zhenya-banner--scaled.jpg]](http://thefirstage.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/zhenya-banner--scaled.jpg)