daemonized | RECOLLE IC CONTACT.

[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)

[And Ardyn just huffs out a laugh.]

I'm his older brother. That was an unforgivable sin in its own right, don't you know? [He takes a considering sip from his glass before he responds.] I can't keep track of what we argued about. We did it often like brothers are required to do; about things that were of no consequence, and probably didn't deserve remote-throwing to begin with.

[Very much like siblings, in that they never remembered what they were angry at each other about years later]

Are you an only child, Grell?

[automatically, she nods.]

My parents never showed any desire for another, and so I've remained blissfully unaware of the trials and tribulations of having any siblings. I think I was enough of a handful for them.

[one was more than they needed, after all.]

The closest I get is stories like this.

I'm envious. [It's what every brother says, without fail. But if put to interrogation, Ardyn would eventually reveal that he does not regret ever having a younger sibling. (The rest, though? He's not so generous.)]

Though you don't exactly strike me as the kind of child that would have been a "handful" for any parent. Apparently I'm wrong.

Maybe I didn't throw remotes into the TV, but I was curious. Endlessly so, wanting to know how the world worked. Always trying to read and touch and listen and really attempting to not ask "why" so much that I'd run the risk of not getting an answer.

[she wanted to know, and when she didn't find the answers one place, she'd look another. all of this is surface level, not far enough into the past that she feels like she needs to divert the line of questioning. talking a little about the past was better than none at all.]

I still am, I'm only old enough to know the proper timing of questions and that maybe one shouldn't try to reach out and touch everything one wants to.

Well, one should never stifle curiosity. [Wasn't that the boon of being a child? Being able to ask freely all the why's in the world, without any real care of consequence? Doing so as an adult was exceedingly more difficult.]

Even as an adult, it's good to know that you still possess it in equal measure. But it would be remiss of me to not suggest that you be bold enough to reach out and touch what you like, on occasion. Don't let maturity take the fun out of everything.

Of course. When opportunity allows, I don't hold back - being mature means I get to exercise the wholehearted choice to reach and touch. Metaphorically and physically both.

[and that's fun enough to make up for the loss of all questions indulged.]

We're trusted to make our own choices without someone hovering behind, ready to push our hands away if we reach for something that isn't supposedly good for us. It's dare I say easier to be curious now than as a child, if you know how to go about it. Or that might simply be the freedom to pull all nighters in search of answers.

[What an opportunity this would be, for Ardyn to make several flirtatious comments about reaching out for physical touch, but. Well. Maybe he'd be so bold if this were more than just a second date, but as it stands, the professor is reasonable enough to make the executive decision to leash his tongue.

Maybe some other time.

And so, he opts for a far more innocent question, albeit still teasing.]

And are you the sort to pull all-nighters to satiate your curiosity? If I recall correctly, you seem to be fast asleep at 3 AM.

[At least, according to the few times he's texted her at that ungodly hour.]

And yet I wake up for you.

[she smiles, and if he's going to tease, then she can take it. it's true that she requires more sleep than the days of flying by on varied numbers of hours, she'll admit that much freely.]

They're less frequent than I used to take them. Now it's only if the question is so compelling that I lose track of time - after a certain point, it feels ridiculous to go to the whole effort of sleeping. I'm not like some people, completely lucid at three in the morning for their own nebulous reasons.

[And yet I wake up for you, she says. Heavens, the teasing has just bounced right back in his direction, and he's rather glad she's not taking his pulse once more. He strategically raises his glass of wine to his lips, drinking, before setting it down again to respond.]

My reasons are less nebulous than you think. It's a bad habit of mine, nothing more. My mind feels more active at night, more awake than it should be. Perhaps those years at law school twisted my sleeping schedule into a mockery of what it once was, or maybe that's the sort of person I've always been. Or both.

[In his younger years, he had always felt so tired -- what with trying to live up to horrendously high expectations, taking care of a little brother who wanted nothing more than to stay at his side, and studying. The irony isn't lost on him now that, at night, he almost never feels tired until a truly ungodly hour.]

Your school may certainly have contributed. But I think it's something you're born with, the same as how some people are what one'd refer to in polite company as "morning people" and less so as "impossible to deal with."

[those strange sorts that can be cheery and energized in the morning with no motivation at all. a behavior both fascinating and utterly alien to her.]

But if it's merely habit keeping you awake, then so be it. I'm only sorry I can't join you in unveiling the mysteries of the dark hours.

[or whatever else one does at 3 AM.]

["Impossible to deal with". Well. She's obviously not much of a morning person, and Ardyn makes a mental note of this -- idle information to be filed away for later, for no real reason other than he's interested in knowing.]

And why can't you? You should sometime. Three in the morning is best reserved for self-reflection and other things you can't be bothered with in the daylight. There's something utterly isolating, yet calming, about the dead of night.

[Or ungodly morning.]

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