They weren't courting. Grievously nonplussed, Laszlo's rebuttal caught in his throat. Gods, she was missing the entire point of this gesture. She was hanging on his arm while he walked her to dinner; how much more forward did he have to be? Laszlo should have simply said something, but the thoughts and feelings in his head refused to be translated into speech. It was more difficult to be forthright than he expected, and historically, Laszlo had never been a poet with words. Had anyone else asked Fia to dinner, she'd be blushing. Presumably, anyway. But this was only Laszlo, who had assured her he was far from refined. "How do you even remember—Fia, I haven't even been back there since… I don't…" With a final sigh, he surrendered. On the way, he began to internally make plans on how he would make do. --- Cruel doubt and hesitation had firmly sown themselves into Laszlo's mind by the time they found themselves in the tavern's shadow. Fia went to the bar to get their drinks, and Laszlo was left standing at the table, holding his head in his hand. The Denvali was more difficult than Laszlo could have anticipated. If she were any other woman, she would have been intrigued by an Ethaefal's offer to dinner. But she was Fia, and everything that implied. To make matters more complicated, much of this felt wrong to him. What would Abalia think if she were standing here? She had only been dead for the span of a season. Had he ever truly loved her if he was entertaining these thoughts about a different woman, or was he merely reaching for some comfort to fill the void? Of course, Laszlo wasn't in love with Fia. He hadn't known her for very long, he just wanted to get closer. It was something he hadn't realized until confronted with the idea of her moving out of the apartment and living on her own somewhere else in the city. Despite the conflicts that arose from his evening form, he would much rather not be trapped in his silent home. Fia wasn't seeing it, which made Laszlo wonder if perhaps it was a terrible idea, the things he'd been thinking. An eyebrow arced as Fia indicated him from across the room. He tried to make out the bartender's expression for some context, but came up empty. When she returned to their table, Laszlo reluctantly took his seat. He pulled his mug to himself, thanking Fia while trying not to sound defeated. He'd let her order a drink for him. Whatever he had intended before was entirely for naught by now. Suppose he could get a decent night's rest and try again tomorrow. "Hm?" Laszlo lifted his mug and tasted his drink. "Not terribly picky, I guess. You recall I used to run a tavern. My associate was in charge of ordering our stock, and he was no connoisseur. The wine was worse. When things are consistently unsatisfying, I suppose you learn to compromise your values." With a sigh, Laszlo rubbed his forehead with a free hand and tried to disguise his frustration as fatigue. Vainly he gave a partial thought to wondering what Sakana would do in his place. "Did you order something to eat?" He nodded toward the bar, then took another drink from his mug. Ale was less satisfying in this shape, but that wouldn't be a problem for long. It was a matter of minutes now. He anticipated his shift in the same way one would about to yawn. "I don't even know what they serve here." And hopefully she hadn't paid yet. This outing might not be completely unsalvageable. |