daemonized | RECOLLE IC CONTACT.

[count for ten seconds, multiply by six, and when it comes to resting heart rate...]

As suspected. You're a little fast.

[so it's not as obvious as her blushing at sentiment that catches her off guard or someone misplacing a word or two or avoiding eye contact. it's not much of anything, but it's still a fool's kind of proof.]

Don't worry. I won't tell a soul - your secret is safe, and you can remain to the world impossible and unflappable when they try to read you.

[and for times when she isn't close enough to feel it, she'll be part of that world. Ardyn Izunia can keep his air of mystery intact.]

[A fool's kind of proof is proof regardless. When she's done, he retracts his hand, though he can't help but give a small shrug of his shoulders. Ardyn's not denying what she had said, for what's the point?]

Good. I would hate for you to start spreading terrible rumors about me being a sentimental, or worse, romantic sort of man. As it stands, you'll already have to pretend the flowers are from someone else. A mysterious, nameless admirer.

You wanting to be my secret admirer is as romantic as roses, I hope you know. As well as delightfully old-fashioned.

[if he wants to pretend he's made of stone in public, sure, but it won't change that she'll know the truth. would it wound him terribly if she lied and gave someone else's name if someone asked? probably not, she thinks, he'd laugh at the idea, but all the same, there's something more respectful about keeping him anonymous than outright lying.]

Very well, it's an agreement. None shall know who can truly take credit for them. Shall I say they're from your brother instead?

[she wouldn't really. but she wants to see his reaction.]

Edited 2017-03-20 03:32 (UTC)

[To be fair, if the whole world knew that Ardyn had sent her a dozen roses, or even five dozen, he'd laugh. It's true his sense of romance is often motivated by no small dose of amusement (one particular hurdle that was never quite overcome in his past relationships), but he speaks out of jest more than anything else. Still, the idea of her keeping his name anonymous where flowers are concerned adds an air of mystery to the whole thing. Of course he'll only encourage her, in that case.]

That may be true, but only you can know that. [As far as secret admirers being more romantic than roses, he means.

Still, when Grell asks if they should be from his brother instead, whatever witty thing he was going to say afterwards completely leaves him. He scoffs almost immediately, brow furrowing.]

No. I'd rather not him get wind of it, because he may just get the wrong idea.

~~[because fynn would probably hit on grell, even if jokingly, lbr, and lord he doesn't want that]~~

I've never even met him, I wouldn't seriously drag him into this.

[though that is accompanied by a deliberate turning her head away and having the audacity to smile and self satisfied as she does. that suspiciously sounds jealous, Ardyn.]

Knowing it would displease you renders my desire to do so absolutely in the negatives.

Even as a joke, the very idea is enough to send a chill down my spine. [Purposefully exaggerating? Or not exaggerating at all? One might wonder. Besides, it doesn't sound like jealousy at all, Grell, you're completely misinterpreting. (It is, actually, a hint of jealousy, even in a situation that clearly isn't going to happen.)

Still, she may be turning her head away from him, but he knows that trick.]

If you're going to smile in the most self-satisfied way possible, at least let me see it. [-he calls her out on it, but not without an amused half-smirk of his own.]

[and here Grell was trying to be polite. but she'll oblige, turning back to look at him. and yes, she does have a quite self-satisfied smile on her face, as much as he'd had when he'd seen her blushing.]

Does your heart care that it's a joke?

[she knows she's throwing his own statements back at him, and before she can give enough pause for a reply, she puts her hand on her heart and continues.]

Don't worry. For as much as I might joke, my affections haven't gone and fallen away. You can trust that.

[it's simply fun to send it all back at him in the brief moments of such that exist.]

[Ah, there it is, her own version of a slightly smug smile aimed directly at him. It isn't enough to disarm Ardyn (What is? A mystery she'd just have to unravel), but her words concerning how her affections haven't abandoned him, as overly dramatic as the notion is, actually does cause him to glance away.

Something he covers up almost immediately by the way he stands, lifting himself up from the couch with ease. Only then does he glance back down at her, his expression as unflappable as before.]

I should hope so. One should always hold onto their affections at least until after dinner is over. And as for whether or not my heart cares if you're joking-

[He offers her a hand, though this time it's an urging for her to stand, not so she can take his pulse once more.] -you'd have to take it upon yourself to check again. I'm not telling.

After dinner, maybe?

[lucky for him, she doesn't notice anything out of the ordinary about it. he's safe from further inquisition, for now, and instead she takes his hand to rise from the couch.]

Maybe. It depends on dinner.

[though given how their conversations were going, it was unlikely she'd not be on some other subject by that time hit, and forget entirely until later when one could regret it and wonder what the answer would be.]

Which, by the way, I've been curious about, but I wouldn't dream of asking you to spoil the surprise.

[He releases her hand as soon as she’s standing, and begins to lead her to the dining room (which isn’t terribly far detached from the living room to begin with). Along the way, he offers her a reply, airy as it is.]

Consider your curiosity about to be satiated soon enough. I’d hate to spoil the surprise, especially since the reveal is only minutes away — if even that.

[And he’s right about that; let’s fast forward a few minutes ahead, a short period of time in which Ardyn’s managed to serve what he’s prepared beforehand, and they’ve situated themselves at the table. His idea of a side salad is an unusual one (but it’s an awful lot of red, that’s enough for them both to appreciate it, regardless), but the main draw of the dinner is at least presented well enough.

(If he were to be honest, he was a bit motivated by the fact that Fynn always declares Ardyn as being unable to cook for both himself and others — he feels self-satisfied in proving his little brother wrong, even if he’s not here to see it. But… well. That’s not worth mentioning right now, and he makes he wise decision not to.)

Grell’s glass will be filled with whatever it is she prefers, honestly, as he would be the sort to ask beforehand. She’s more than welcome to forgo wine for water, or anything else, but Ardyn certainly has a wine glass on his side of the table.]

I welcome both compliments and criticisms alike.

[well, she's impressed. she'll take wine to pair with it and keeps any commentary down until she's tried it all. partly it's to make him wait, partly to be able to give a full report. but for someone who usually cooks for herself and so barely pays attention to things like presentation, it's a very nice change of pace.

finally, she levels her eyes on him with a serious expression, frowning a little, before she speaks.]

It's wonderful, Ardyn.

[the seriousness was fake, and she lets it go away to be replaced with a smile instead. no, she can't be that cruel.]

I thought about criticizing it, but I find myself incapable of doing so. It rather goes against my wish to enjoy the moment of good food and good company both.

[Partly to make him wait? What a tease! But Ardyn isn't the type to squirm in his seat while under scrutiny (scrutiny was a steadfast friend of his, when one grows up in the sort of household he did), and so the professor just makes cozy with his own glass of wine as he waits. Patient and unperturbed.

When she frowns at him, though, he cannot help but arch a brow. And for the brifest second, he thinks that maybe Fynn was right, damn him, and his confidence in his own cooking skills were misplaced and-

Ah.]

I'm extremely glad that you think so, Grell. [His smile returns, faint this time.] I admittedly don't do this very often [which? bring a date over or cook a fancy meal?] and I wasn't exactly certain what you'd think.

[He makes a vague gesture with free hand, the one not clasped around the stem of the wine glass.] Is it too much? Not enough? Always prone to second guess oneself, where dinner dates are concerned.

[she shakes her head a little.]

There's no need to second guess yourself. It's more than fine.

[not too much, not lacking. he cared enough to want to make it right, and so it ended up being so. Grell knows her standards are simple to the point that the spending time and the food being edible is enough, but she's also not going to turn down roses and good food. who would?]

Usually I've found the biggest hurdle for dinner is asking someone. Everything else will sort itself out, as long as nothing gets set on fire in the process.

[and from the expression that quickly crossed her face, that happened before. but this Friday is leaps and bounds above that already.]

Then I'm satisfied knowing that I've already overcome the first initial, difficult trial. [Can one even imagine Ardyn Izunia fretting over asking someone to dinner, though? If it seems like an alien thought, it's probably because it is -- like with many things that come easily to him, he had asked not without consideration, but certainly without hesitation.

But in any case, it's easy enough for man as observant as him to pick up that flicker of an expression Grell's face, after she mentions setting things on fire. Listen, you expect him not to ask about that?]

Are you speaking from experience? When it comes to setting things ablaze?

[the question comes mid bite, and she swallows before answering.]

Once. [a pause.] Or twice, actually. But the first time wasn't a dinner date and the result of sleep deprivation meaning I forgot to set a timer and so thoroughly burned what I was cooking that it was good for nothing but charcoal.

[she remembers that one well enough because of how the smoke detector had gone off, rousing her from an accidental nap she thought she could get away with in the time it was supposed to cook. testing weeks were never easy ones.]

And the other...that was when I thought I'd be impressive, and make food ahead of time, but I left it on the stove to stay warm. I firmly believed that I'd lowered the temperature enough to where it would be comfortable, and it was fine until I realized that my beliefs were wrong and now I had a small fire in a pot and had to take care of it before my date saw. Except, naturally, they did.

[she hadn't called them back, after that.]

Nowadays I'd like to think I'm far more careful.

[He's picturing both of these scenarios as Grell explains them, and he doesn't bother hiding the shine of amusement in his eyes as he listens. His fork clinks against his plate as he eats, patiently, until she's finished.]

If someone were to tell me that they've never caught their food on fire even once in their lifetime, I'd have to call them a liar. We're all only human.

[Still, that doesn't make the visual any less hilarious.]

So what did your date think of the miniature inferno in the pot?

Oh, they were concerned. Surprised, as anyone would be. Tried to help put the fire out before I could tell them not to worry but only succeeded in setting a dish towel on fire as well.

[panic helps no one, really.]

I wouldn't have minded in the end, but they acted so offended when I retold the story in front of people that it really added onto my thoughts that they had no sense of humor, and so, I didn't invite them over again. At least I know how to laugh at myself.

[Panic only helps make a terrible situation even more hilarious, apparently.]

No sense of humor? The most cardinal of sins. [A sip of his wine before he continues.] I would have expected you to tell the tale of a disastrous first date involving panic and flame. What's life, if you can't indulge yourself in inanity now and again?

In any case, their loss.

[humorless and stuck up, she had realized after the fact when she thought about it. not something that would have worked out long term. still, she chuckles when he says it was their loss and turns to her salad instead.]

And you? What've you gone and set on fire so far?

[maybe not a dish towel, but something had to end up in the path of disaster at some point. she'll accept drowned or broken into pieces as well, Grell's not picky about minor calamities.]

"So far", you say. As if I'm so inclined to set more things on fire in the future. [He hums in amusement.] Well, let me think about it.

[What disastrous things has he wrought in his lifetime? He has his own set of stories he could share, he supposes.] The fires were limited mostly to early failed attempts at cooking. Though I've shattered a window or two in the past, and put a hole in the middle of a mounted television. Fallen through a second-floor banister, but that was, ah-

[These were all such a long time ago.]

Maybe it shouldn't surprise you that all of these stories also involve a certain younger brother.

[When you're trying to take care of a baby brother (because lord knows his parents didn't care enough to, not in the ways that mattered, at least), disasters are bound to happen, okay.]

Now that you say it, it's not a surprise, but I was ready to believe you got into all of that mischief on your own.

[fires, the occasional property damage, it all sounded a little reckless, but not out of the question for two to get up to. and hey, anyone could set more fires in the future - whether it be intentional or accidental depends on personality.]

How did the hole get in the television? Him or you?

[A glimmer of... something in his eyes. Wry mischief? Maybe too strong of a word, but surely related.]

Which do you think?

[A question for a question, again. But he'll tell the story, he's just curious about which Grell thinks would be the perpetrator behind a shatter television screen first.]

[she considers, then shrugs. which of them? was both too easy an answer?]

I can't make judgements on your brother with never meeting him. But I'm not going to rule out the possibility that something was thrown, someone ducked, and it hit an unintended target.

[Both would be, well, technically correct. And her guess is a close one, funnily enough.]

Then let me make your judgments for you. He is brash, impulsive, and loud. Energetic, stubborn, and tiring. [So very, very tiring in those younger years. What a lifetime ago that was.]

It was the television remote. He threw it at me; I remember it flying past my face, only inches away, and shattering into the screen behind me.

[spoken like a true older sibling, in her opinion. but the story begins.]

Oh no.

[she at least looks properly horrified, though her eyes betray how amused she is by the whole thing, imagining it. (her mental image of Fynn is something close to Ardyn himself, with a few features tweaked, and then the both of them shrunk to child height.)]

I can't imagine that went over well with anyone involved. What did you even do to warrant a thrown remote?

Edited 2017-04-02 07:26 (UTC)

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