Gid was glad to see Rhys all dressed up for the dinner, though it was honestly nice to see him outside their little workroom. In all fairness, Gid spent just as much time utilizing the office in the workroom, but it was usually typing up stuff for his clients. He figured typed notes looked nicer than his hurried scrawl... and he couldn't doodle in the margins quite as easily. It made him look (and feel) more professional when trying to deal with half the nutjobs he worked with. Once they were seated comfortably at the little table, Rhys spoke, saying it was nice to escape the workroom. He then asked about Gid's job, and the brunette snorted a bit. "It's nice to have you out of the workroom too, believe me. And no, Tobi's not bad. The clients are.... terrible, though. At least a few. There was a crazy couple divorcing, yea? And they were having a custody battle over their parrot. Kept bringing it to show me like I cared. It just screamed profanities." He sighed, shaking his head with a little grin. "I had to negotiate weekly custody of this thing, and the rule is that neither's allowed to teach the parrot to say mean stuff about the other." He rolled his eyes, then looked back at his boyfriend. "So, about you, are you any closer to figuring out that prototype?" He tilted his head, curious about Rhys' work. If nothing else, he just wanted to listen to the white-haired man. Wasn't that what they always said about true love?
The best thing about tonight's that we're not fighting Could it be that we have been this way before I know you don't think that I am trying I know you're wearing thin down to the core
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Aʀᴛɪꜰɪᴄᴇʀ||Rᴀᴠᴇɴᴄʟᴀᴡ Aʟᴜᴍɴɪ||Hᴀʟꜰʙʟᴏᴏᴅ
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Rhys listened to Gid describing one of his clients at work and shook his head. He definitely was glad he didn't go into law after hearing that. Vaguely he wondered how someone could deal with a parrot that shouted obscenities, but he figured that was because Tessa had been a very quiet dog and had preferred quiet much like he had. That made him wonder if one of these days he could get another dog, but not at the moment."That just sounds awful. Please tell me you were able to silence it at least once to get something done."He would have. He was pretty sure that he threatened to do that to Heath at least once or twice, and his cousin had proceeded to threaten to learn sign language just so that he could curse Rhys out in it.
At the mention of his own work, he shrugged. It wasn't so much the spells that he needed to put onto it, more like he wanted to make sure the mechanics were in good order. After all, it had taken quite a bit of work to get Gid's braces to work well enough that he didn't need his crutches anymore, and they helped to develop his muscles by making sure that he worked out his legs without putting pressure on his back. That had been a lot more complicated."Right now I'm wanting to get the joints down before I move onto doing any spellwork. That way these can work better than what I've got right now. Sadly, the motion behind joints is a lot more complicated than you'd think."
════════════════════════ Location: La Petite Fantasie Thinking: A nice dinner really doesn't sound bad at all... OOC: -♡-
This is not what I intended I always swore to you I'd never fall apart You always thought that I was stronger I may have failed But I have loved you from the start
Gid grinned when Rhys shook his head. Rhys wouldn't be able to deal with the talking (nor the sheer stupidity) that Gid suffered through on an almost daily basis at work. When he mentioned silencing the parrot, the brunette let out a barking laugh. "I wish. I feel like they would've tried to hire Tobi to sue me if I dared cast a spell on their precious bird. Not that the thought didn't cross my mind every few minutes." His grin remained, the younger male reaching out to place a hand on Rhys'. It was a romantic date, after all.
He listened with a sense of fascination as Rhys explained what was going on with his work. Honestly, he hadn't really figured out just how complex Rhys' work was, and even the thought of joints had Gid wondering. Of course, there were different types of joints, but he figured they only moved in certain ways. Then again, if it had Rhys - the smartest guy Gid knew- stumped, it must be pretty darned tricky. "That does sound pretty confusing. I know I'd never stand a chance at it, anyway. Though that's why I'm a guinea pig, not the inventor." He chuckled at that, knowing that Rhys liked to work on things for him. In Rhys' favor (at least the favor of Thresa,) he usually self-tested things, rather than having his already-crippled boyfriend try them out.
When the waitress came over, Gid ordered a few glasses of wine (though he wasn't sure if either would like it) since it seemed fancy and romantic. He also ordered his meal, since he was too excited to wait forever on his big surprise! It really wasn't good that he was already struggling to hold his tongue, but he really, really hoped Rhys wasn't able to see the excitement in his eyes or his nervous fidgeting. Though, Gid was sure he was doomed, since Rhys was also incredibly perceptive. It'd be a bloody miracle if Gid made it to the end of dinner without Rhys guessing his intentions.
I close my eyes and I can see A world that's waiting up for me That I call my own Through the dark, through the door Through where no one's been before But it feels like home
》》Cley didn't know how to feel as he made his way towards the restaurant to meet with his parents. After picking him up from the station (only to then be directly apparated to charity function) he hadn't much seen the pair and had pretty much been on his own the last few days besides the house elves. His grandparents had been out of country the past few weeks to handle a bit of business in Brussels (say that five times fast) but had promised the teen they'd be back by Yule at the latest so truthfully, he'd just been biding his time until them. Until however this morning, when one of his parent's elves had come to him saying they asked to meet them at La Petite for tea and news. That part did worry him but only because his parents weren't really known to let him in on things ahead of time so this could go either which way. He greeted the host and was then led to a small table near the back where a small selection of sandwiches had already been placed on the table and the two were in deep conversation their cups still steaming and from his current angle pretty untouched. This of course kicked his anxiety up another notch before they both noticed his arrival and smiled at him in greeting.
"Ah bon tu es enfin là ! Nous avons beaucoup à discuter." Jacquiline greeted him causing her son's eyebrows to raise further. French was something generally left at home and the only occasions it was used outside it was for Serious Biz™. Ohboy, Cley was definitely not going to like this it seemed.
"Désolé de vous avoir fait attendre tous les deux. De quoi avez-vous besoin de discuter?"
"Non non! Commandez d'abord du thé, s'il vous plaît." his mother suggested with a large grin.
The anxiety and nerves churning in his gut disagreed with this wholeheartedly but the people-pleaser in him just complied and when the server returned to their table he politely ordered a cup of hibiscus. He figured the sweet gentle tea would soothe whatever mess he was about to be thrown into. Gods, was this about how he's been dressing lately? He knew they were image conscious but he didn't think they'd be cruel enough to call him out in public. Actually, probably because they were so image and public conscientious they wouldn't do it so he could cross that off the list. Is it possible this could all be an elaborate way of telling him they were attempting to play matchmaker? Cley knew theirs was a match made and approved by their own parents but he hadn't thought they had really cared enough create one for him. Unless of course, it was someone from within their hoity circle then....well s**t. He wasn't even sure which gender he actually liked, let alone if he even liked a gender at all! Hell, he'd just figured out what skirt length accentuated his figure!
When his tea came he said some thanks and went about sweetening it with offered honey as he waited for guillotine to fall so to speak. Jacquiline and Vincent seemed to speak with only their eyes for a moment before it was his father that turned to him with a gentle smile immediately having the opposite effect.
"Ahem, eh bien, ta mère et moi avons réfléchi à ce problème particulier pendant un moment. C'est quelque chose que nous avons mis de côté encore et encore mais maintenant, nous ne voyons plus de raison de le faire."'Totally clear and to the point, thanks father.' Cley internally rolled his eyes which outwardly he just nodded for the older man to continue.
"Je m'excuse pour la divagation, nous sommes tellement excités! Ta mère et moi avons décidé de réessayer d'avoir un enfant." Vincent beamed, Jacquiline beamed, and Cley...stared at them both. When he didn't immediately start grinning or clapping or whatever joyous thing he was socially conditioned to do, their smiles slowly wavered before lapsing into a very awkward staring match. When after nearly a minute he still hadn't said anything, Jacquiline decided to reach out.
"Avez-vous compris ce que votre père vient de dire ? Je sais qu'on ne s'en vante pas mais j'ai pensé que ton français était à la hauteur-"
"Non, j'ai parfaitement compris. En fait ce n'est pas correct du tout. J'ai compris ce qu'il a dit, je ne comprends tout simplement pas pourquoi c'est une bonne idée" Cley responded faintly, his mental faculties running at high speeds to catch up. Vincent took slight offense to the teen's words and frowned slightly as he attempted to find his words. "Qu'y a-t-il à comprendre ? Nous pensons que c'est maintenant un bon moment, fiscalement et autrement, pour un autre enfant."
"On va essayer pour une petite fille ! Elle sera si précieuse dans ses jolies tenues assorties, je le sais!" Jacquiline felt the need to input, her eyes already glittering with the future of her mini me. Vincent was back to smiling and agreeing with his wife's observation. Cley watched then both gush and simper as if they had just answered one of life's Big Questions looking between the two of them and wondered if a brain could ever survive in that smog of self assured narcissism.
"Vous êtes tous les deux idiots. Bouffons complets et absolus." he intoned with no inflection to both his parents. For their own parts, they looked at him in complete shock and had this been another moment in time he might've burst into laughter at the dropped jaw expressions. "Dans quel univers est-ce une bonne idée ? Quoi, je deviens un peu trop vieux pour être invité aux bonnes soirées ? Ou peut-être que les meilleurs impliquent des petites filles et n'est-ce pas une garce à dire à haute voix."
"Clemont! Surveillez votre langage, nous sommes en bonne compagnie!" Jacquiliine finally found her voice long enough to scold her son causing him to scoff out loud.
"Nous sommes toujours en bonne compagnie ! Il y a rarement un moment où je ne suis pas forcé dans chaque type d'entreprise, poli ou autre! Y'know what, I'm done. I can't do this." Cley could physically feel the fight leaving him but the indignation and anger still simmered beneath his skin no matter how much he tried to will it away. It was just-! The audacity of them both! That they could both sit there and tell him this imagining he'd go along with their fatuous ideas.
"Quoi-What do you mean? Why are you saying all of this?" Vincent decided to ask also losing the French for the moment.
"Just what I've said. I think this is by far the most imbecilic and selfish ideas you both have ever had, probably right below the one where you decided to become parents in the first place. You're not going to raise this child; either I or the elves will be the persons they see most of the time. Other than, of course, when you decide to parade them around at your functions for just the right about talk and press before you place them back on their little shelf where you think all children go until they're old enough to think and move and be themselves and you then elect to produce a newer model to show off like a goddamn china set!" Nearly a decade of bottled resentment just flew out of Cley like a tide of bile and just like it, there was no way of putting it all back and it felt amazing to finally let it go.
Once again, the two adults just stared at their son as if they were just noticing him, possibly just now seeing him for the first time in...ever. It would probably be sadder if he hadn't numbed himself to this possibility. "I had...no idea that you felt this way, Clemont." Jacquiline softly expressed with a concerned and thoughtful demeanor which inexplicably made the teen giggle. He thought it sounded just on the side of unhinged and from the look his mother he was spot on.
"You'd have to actually talk to me I guess, mother. Not completely your fault though; I think I stopped trying around four or five." Cley responded with a slight shrug not seeing-or rather ignoring-the quick looks shared between his parents to instead finish his still warm cup of tea in front of him. Magic truly was a blessing they didn't deserve. "I'm not going to be home the next few days. If I don't see you before I go back, Happy New Year. And if you actually go ahead with this harebrained scheme...good luck I suppose. I hope they're everything you and your friends hope they are." The teen dug into his pockets thankful that he'd had the presence of mind to bring money with him, and placed on the table enough to cover his cuppa. He gave them both a small polite smile-he'd been raised right after all-before gathering himself together and walking out the restaurant. Checking the time on his watch, Cley figured he had enough time to pack some things before going over to his grandparent's home. He'd have to call ahead to not startle the elves but they were used to him coming and going at this point. Maybe that idea about the permanent room wasn't as overdramatic as he previously thought.
xxTranslation:xx "Oh good you're finally here! We have much to discuss." -J "Sorry for making you both wait. What is it you need to discuss?" -C "No no! Order some tea first, please." -J "Ahem, well, your mother and I have been brainstorming this particular issue for a while. It's something we've put aside again and again but now, we don't see a reason to do so any longer." -V "I apologize for rambling, we're just so excited! Your mother and I have decided to try again for a child." -V "Did...did you understand what your father just said? I know we don't flaunt it about but I thought for sure your French was up to par-" -J "No, I understood perfectly. Actually that's not correct at all. I understood what he said, I'm just not understanding why this is a good idea" -C "What is there to understand? We think that now is a good moment, fiscally and otherwise, for another child. " -V "We're going to try for a little girl! She'll be so precious in her cute matching outfits, I just know it! " -J "You're both idiots. Complete and utter buffoons." -C "In what universe is this a good idea? What, am I getting a bit too old to get invited to the good parties? Or maybe the better ones involve little girls and isn't that a b***h to say out loud." -C "Clemont! Watch your language, we're in polite company!" -J "We're always in polite company! There's rarely a time I'm not forced in every type of company-polite or otherwise! " -C
They can say, they can say it all sounds crazy They can say, they can say I've lost my mind I don't care, I don't care, so call me crazy We can live in a world that we design
ʚĭɞ🏛FIANAARLINBYRNES 44 years || Cultural Heritage (MA, MPhil) alumna || muggle Shop Assistant at Synister Studios _______________
To say Fiana was glowing with pride was an understatement– she had been positively radiating since the twins got the letters. No doubt the kids would expect the customary congratulations of dessert of their choice on their weekly picnic, but it had been far too long since the twins had properly gotten to splurge.
Fiana had never skimped when it came to school materials—- even in the twins’ third year with all the extra materials and books for electives, Fi had simply made plans to take on a few extra shifts and worked odd jobs around the building complex for a few months. Both of them needed their own sets of books and materials and brooms, and there was absolutely no compromising on that. Her babies were getting the best possible education they wanted.
Which was all to say, after a full day of getting all the back-to-school shopping checked off, the trio found themselves at a comfy table at La Petite Fantaisie.
“Get anything you’d like,” she insisted, settling down once she was sure Torin’s wheels were locked in. “We can go all out tonight.”
After ordering drinks, Fiana held her mug of hibiscus tea up for a little toast. “Congratulations, Skyla, Congratulations Torin. You’re both going to be excellent prefects.”
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settingLa Petite Fantasie, August 2058 || withTorin and Skyla appearance 5’5” well built || wearing Her nice dress but in Gryffindor red! status The babies should celebrate! _______________ //OOC: ----
Cat Waffle
Cinnabun Gryffie
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There were times I couldn’t borrow from the future To fight the darkness that followed me around But you've always been the halo that broke up the clouds So I'd do it all again for you 🏛ʚĭɞ "Pearl" by SOBI
“It’s….burnt,” Wren hissed at Nim, poking his steak. “I told you, Stephenson can’t cook a steak if his life depended on it.”
“It looks fine?”
“I asked for medium-rare. This is almost well done. Not a hint of pink anywhere.” Wren grumbled, sipping his wine instead. He cut a piece and tasted it anyways. “Burnt. What kind of self-respecting establishment can’t make a simple steak? Last time the beef wellington came out mushy. I swear this place used to be good.”
He summoned the waiter. “Could you please get the owner? Head Chef Stephenson.”
“I’m sorry sir, was there something wrong?”
“Not with you. But my steak is overcooked. And his…seems undercooked.”
It took some persuading but the message evidently got communicated as after a while a wizened old man with a bald head and stringy white beard walked over.
“Ah, Winchester. I should have expected.”
“Stephenson.”
The old man smirked. “Are you here to complain about your steak again? Calling me out this time though—. What happened to sending a letter? Run out of parchment?”
“I’m escalating.” Wren seemed entirely too at ease. “How’s your brother?”
Stephenson’s cough was a poorly disguised scoff. “Enjoying retirement.”
“How’s about I give you a hundred thousand galleons, and you go join him? A hundred thousand…plus the rest of this month’s salary...that has to beat the government pension he’s got.”
Stephenson’s eyebrows jumped in surprise. “You’re serious.”
Wren watched the older man’s eyes unflinchingly. He held his gaze for a pregnant pause, his voice steady and clear. “If you have a recommendation for your successor, I’d take it into consideration, as the owner.”
“Sure you don’t want to just hop in the kitchen? Teach me how to make a steak?”
“I’m no cook. I just know what medium-rare is.”
“Ah yes, trust-fund kid has a job, doesn’t he? Did you get bored of spending great-grandpapi’s money?”
“Not at all. You think wandmakers make so much? I just like rubbing it in people’s faces that I have more money at my fingertips than they’ll see in a lifetime.”
“You’re full of s**t, Winchester.”
“Not unless you’re cooking your steak with feces now. That would be a step down, even for you.” Wren raised his glass with a smirk. “You know our table now, if you’d like to change your stance. I can pop out, grab the chequebook, and take the place off your hands by dessert. By tomorrow morning you could be spending your newfound earnings on a yacht of your own.”
By the time dessert came, Stephenson had indeed come out again with a sheaf of paperwork and a key.
“Sign here Nim,” Wren indicated, turning the parchment over to his husband. “No I’m not kidding, I told you if this geezer overcooked my steak one more time I was going to lecture him on what medium-rare means. Now, we can buy the whole place and give an old geezer a retirement fund or I can start a scene and that’s going to be exhausting.”
Hands were shaken. The two men exchanged papers and clinked glasses.
Chef Stephenson stared down at the cheque in his hand. As he walked away from the table, he chuckled to himself.
Wren refilled his wine glass, clinking it against Nim’s with a smirk and a shake of the head. As he explained in a quiet voice, the smile faded–more serious, but still there. “He was tired. He felt too old for the role– he had attended his niece’s retirement party the other day. But pride kept him here. He knows his sous chef was scheming a coup to out him. The moment he heard my offer he was recalling what he needed to sell the place and wondering if this was all part of the coup.
“But he was…disappointed. In the end, he thought he was leaving behind a failure of a career. When I told him I’d take his recommendation into consideration, he realized I wasn’t part of the sous’s coup–heh–and he thought –hoped– for a brief moment that maybe that meant his opinion still mattered somewhere.”
Wren seemed almost regretful.
“Honestly? He sucked at doing both owner and head chef. He was fine before he took over. Used to make the best lobster linguine. Maybe if he had the time to focus on things. But he needed someone else. Someone…in his corner. He just never found them…not that he would have found anyone if they didn’t storm into his kitchen.”
Wren covered Nim’s hand as he spoke. He let the other half–the unspoken part of the evening’s spectacle hang in the whispers between them. In the end, Wren wasn’t sure if he’d done right, actually buying the entire place on a whim. But knew that even if it was a terrible mistake, Nim would be there to yell at him about it. Which was…leagues better than Chef Stephenson had. Finally, he gave Nim’s hand a little squeeze. “I’m glad you found me.”
When the young man checked back in after the dessert, he had an expression of part awe and part terror. “Was the dessert to your liking, sirs? Is there anything else I can bring you?”
“Great.” Wren nodded at the waiter. “You’ll stay on right? Not planning on quitting anytime soon?”
The young man nodded nervously. Wren wrote another cheque for a hundred galleons. “For the bill. Keep the change. Come on Nimcat. And we’re probably going to need to think of an excuse. Robin’s going to kill me.”
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settingLe Petite Piece of Burnt Steak, Summer 2060 || with Nim, a waiter kid, and Chef Stephenson appearance 5'8", average build || wearingA bit casual for a nice restaurant but whatever I guess I own it now status Childhood daydream complete, oh s**t this is going to be so much work tomorrow. _______________ //OOC: Finally posting Wren buying the place. Trick quoted for Nim. Kiska, you're quoted because you mentioned Jess works here? I can change things if you'd like for her to be the waiter but I figured she'd be a cook.
Trickblues
kiska166
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Tell me that you'll open your eyes Get up, get out, get away from these liars 'Cause they don't get your soul or your fire Take my hand, knot your fingers through mine And we'll walk from this dark room for the last time ✧✦ "Open Your Eyes" by Snow Patrol.
