sweethymns | Mι∂ηιgнт ιη Ƥαяιѕ

[And much like before, it's Oren who's there to greet Claude first. He was drying some cups before looking up to see who the customer is. It's been another slow day so Claude gets the cafe to himself. Lucky.

Oren nods in acknowledgment.]

Not pouring. Not like first time.

[He gestures at the newly installed table and bench.]

Take if you'd like. Plenty of room.

You've remodeled. I barely recognize the place.

[ Is his comment regarding the new furniture, which he recognizes with a sharpness that would be characteristic for him, but also: he usually doesn't care to comment about these things, so his dryness is largely wasted. He missed you, Midnight Grind. Maybe.

Obliging the offered seat, Claude settles down and shrugs his coat off, hangs it over the empty chair next to him. ]

Alone today, butler? I've avoided the storm, have I?

[Oren wordlessly pours out a cup of fresh coffee, sugar cubes and cream on the side and serves it to Claude.

And then continues over to the door. Looks like someone's doing some fetching.]

[ Ah. Claude's not entirely sure if Oren's silence is a good or bad thing— he was going to hand Oren a note in the event that Iona was out, but now he?? Doesn't have to, he supposes.

So he takes a sip of coffee, watches as Oren purposefully strides over to the door.

(He'll have to drink quick, he figures. He has a feeling Iona is going to do something rash...) ]

[For Oren, he opens the door slightly ajar as it reveals the sleek apartment room. And from inside, there's soft music playing inside along with that certain someone singing along quietly and dreamily.]

"What did you say?
I know I saw you saying it
But my ears won't stop praying
Long enough to hear those sweet words
Spoken like a melody..."

[Oren actually pauses as if he... May enjoy the sound. It's hard to tell because Oren is someone whose blunt words and straightforward actions painted him.]

"...Come on in
Did you have a hard time sleeping?
'Cause a heavy moon was keeping you awake
And all I know is I'm just glad to see you again..."

[And then Oren speaks up.]

Visitor. You know the one.

Hm? Oh. OH!!!

[And thus, Claude is doomed because Iona jumps up from her spot in the kitchen where she was writing down some notes and zooms over to the cafe entrance, poking her head in, and lighting up at the sight of Claude Aubert. She's dressed in casual clothes, a white long sleeved blouse, a long indigo skirt with a white pattern, and she's barefoot, save for the silver anklet around her right ankle, that jingle when she moves.]

Took you forever! Welcome back!

[ There's something nostalgic about it, the sound of singing through open doors. Claude can't say that he appreciates music beyond his ability to identify most pieces written during his time (for 'conversational purposes', he'd been taught), but he probably could have spent the next few minutes listening to Iona if he'd been given an opportunity.

He has his coffee brought to his lips when Iona finally appears, and he smiles carefully over the rim of his cup before he takes a sip and sets the porcelain back down onto its saucer. ]

Do try to smile less, you might blind someone with how bright it burns.

[ Play nice, Claude. He tips his head to the side. ]

It's been a while.

Literally weeks, Claude!

[One can see the bounce in her step as Iona steps into the cafe, bare feet and all as she bounds over to Claude.]

I'm happy to see you! I'm guessing Gus safely gave you the care package from us?

Come, come. There are people who I see only once a year, and even that seems excessive. I would have thought you'd be fine with putting a few months between my visits.

[ Victorian social standards mixed with Claude's standards, a dangerous combination. ]

But, yes. I've received your package, despite every effort to dissuade the tedium of gift-giving. I suppose I'm obligated to give you something in return.

Once a year? Excessive? C'mon, I'm not like that one relative you're obligated to see once a year! At least I hope not...

[She plops herself down across from him and lays her arms across the new table.]

Do you feel like it though? I remember telling you to at least visit and so far, so good.

Edited 2015-12-01 01:04 (UTC)

Miss Iona. If you were a relative of mine, I assure you that I would have walked out of this door the moment I stepped in.

[ Which, in his language, means that Iona is far from being a social contract that he has to obey; if she were, he wouldn't be here. But he's not generous nor honest enough to offer that information without extreme digging.

So he quirks his lips up instead. The expression isn't lightly crooked like his half-brothers'. ]

As for the gift-giving, I suppose you'll have to be content in the knowledge that I came straight here instead of dawdling around Paris for a suitable offering.

I'll consider that an achievement. Go team!

[Iona beams although now she has to ask him...]

So if it's not too much, I could ask you to tell me what exactly happened after you both returned from the cafe? I'm sure Oren left a lot of people wanting.

[ Her question is relatively harmless, except for all the memories it dredges up— not all of them bad, apparently, because Claude promptly starts cracking up. Demurely. ]

Oh, where to start. [ He could be serious about all of this, he supposes, but he'll choose not to be. For now. ] Perhaps I should ask you if you want to know about the rumors that've circulated about you, before anything else.

Rumors?

[Her brows furrow for a second before she cautiously replies.]

Did I really make that much of an impression...?

[Iona...]

Okay, lay it on me. What are they saying?

They're very flattering.

[ Which means that no, they're not. ]

'The bare-legged witch', for one. 'The stripping seductress'. The 'beautiful masquerade menace'.

[OPENS MOUTH.

CLOSES IT.

Glances to the side. Glances up at Oren who serves her a tall glass of iced water with lemon and a plate of thin wafer cookies. He doesn't say anything.]

[And then she snaps her fingers decisively.]

I like number one and number three. My legs are pretty great.

See? Glowing reviews.

[ A chuckle under his breath, though he hoped Iona would be more indignant?! What a jerk. ]

In comparison, everyone's assessment of Oren was horrifically drab. The usual chatter about a prince from some obscure country or other.

Prince of the Kitchen, maybe. They're all onto something.

[She leans on one elbow, rolling her eyes.]

Still, I gotta say, "seductress," is a first. I'm not that sneaky if you're able to tell by now.

[Truly, for someone who's magical nature is supposed to be secret, Iona was quite the, "Wham, bam, boom," kind of person.]

Yes, I've gathered. Though I suppose seductresses don't require tact if they have magic on their side.

[ Not that he thinks Iona is just going to go around using magic like that willy-nilly. He's just blithely teasing. ]

Or if they're as open about showing your knees are you are, incidentally.

You and Gus have seen plenty of my knees. It shouldn't be a problem at this point.

[ A slight tip of his head, here. ]

Have I. How rude of you to assume that I look anywhere below your face— I've manners, you know.

[She actually may look like she's put off-guard here and tries to recover, waving her hand dismissively.]

H-Hey, c'mon! Even I'm not making that assumption. And they're just knees. Like they're just... there...

[Her gesturing is very energetic, but what isn't energetic about her?]

Edited 2015-12-04 04:51 (UTC)

[ Ah yes, good, now he's got her. He smiles languidly to himself, a cat with a canary, and breathes a short chuckle under his breath. ]

Well, well. Now I won't be able to help myself from looking, will I? What have you done.

[Not even Oren can save her from this ~~because he figures she better deal with it~~ She takes her glass of water and takes a long drink before replying with a wrinkled nose.]

What haven't I done at this rate...? You're making it sound as if things are gonna go downhill.

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