Snacc [SVR]

[Bug (DELETED 9849)]

WEARING

Bernard scratched at his face as smoke billowed from his lips. Cigarettes were the only thing keeping him from reaching for a drink. There were only so many hot drinks he could stomach, and none quenched the need for both distraction and soother like nicotine did. His nose scrunched at the cold air, gaze lifting to the towering wheel of death he’d luckily avoided with his first date.

Ping!

The last thing he’d anticipated was a second match, let alone so soon.

Reaching for his phone, Bernard lifted the cigarette to his mouth. It was with trepidation that he clicked the alert and unlocked his phone. The application presented him with a picture and distance metre. Meara.

Exhaling smoke, he held the burning Camel between his lips and typed with both hands: Have you eaten yet?

[Meara]

WEARING

As she trekked back over to the main tent from the ice, stopping once to adjust her high heels more solidly onto her feet. As she neared her destination, she opened her phone messages with a swipe of her thumb. Blue eyes glanced over the screen as she looked over her second match. Mea was about to send a message, but then she saw one come in on her screen. It was her next "date" asking her if she was interested in grabbing a bite. Immediately the allurist thought of sweets and nice dinners associated with the holiday. She could go for dessert right about now.

Her steps followed the little blinking location indicator to take her towards where her next match was. Bernard. What a proper sounding name. The petite woman mused to herself as she finally spied the man that matched the picture on her phone. She straightened out her jacket before adjusting her course to the other man. At a distance, she was pleased with the computer algorithm, it pairing her with tall and sharp dressed men so far. "Hi there, I'm Mea." She gave a small wave as she stopped a few feet away from him.

"And as to your query, I haven't. Food sounds great what do you have in mind?" Meara offered a cheerful smile up at the taller man as slender fingers pushed her flaming red hair behind an ear.

[Bug (DELETED 9849)]

Bernard puffed a few more tobacco-laced breaths before plucking the cigarette from his lips to extinguish it. He wasn’t self-conscious about his smoking habit, less so than one could be about alcoholism and the Mr Hyde it gave rise to, but he was sufficiently self-aware to know the practice was losing its standing amongst civilised company. And everything about this event, despite expectations, was very civilised.

Soothed by the nicotine, he did not fidget with his phone. Closing the application to check on other business. Depending on the answer to his query, he’d make a move… or not. The tent with the buffet was but a few steps behind him.

Meara sought him out, approaching him out of seemingly nowhere.

Her outfit was hardly the epitome of elegance, but spoke volumes of her confidence. Amidst a sea of red, white, and black, the silver was certainly bold and unpredictable. It stood out, much like her red hair. There was something about natural redheads that made them easy on the eyes. He’d never quite put his finger on it. In any case, he was far from disappointed. As someone with distinctive features, Bernard had always enjoyed the company of those who were unapologetic about who they were.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he greeted, offering a smile as he slipped his phone into his coat’s inner pocket. (There may have been a decree against violence, but sticky fingers were rarely absent at any social event.) “I was considering the tent back there,” he replied, shifting his weight to bring the area in question into view. “I walked through there earlier and they seemed to have quite the selection. You fancy a try?”

The aisles outside had vendors scattered about. Mulled wine, hot cocoa, funnel cake, poutine. They were all ‘food’ in a sense, but the variety and heartiness offered by a buffet — appetiser to desert — was far more alluring. He was eager to escape the cold too, and to sit. The struggle with subsiding strictly on sweet drinks was the sugar crash that was now long overdue.

He offered his forearm, as any proper Englishman should.

[Meara]

Meara followed the man's description to the heated tent that was behind them. After the ice skating, retreating inside the warmth of the fire sounded amazing to the smaller woman. Being from the southern United States, Meara didn't tolerate the frigid Canadian winters so well. Her black leggings were actually fleece lined to help lessen the sting of the wind, but still looked great on her thin legs. A warm smile appeared on her nude colored lips as she snaked her arm around his outstretched forearm. "Absolutely. I'm sort of peckish." She said cheerily as they meandered towards the tent.

"So what sorts of food do you like best?" Meara queried as sort of an opening to conversation in an attempt to learn more about her date. Personally Meara loved food, even though she was thing as a rail. It just never stuck to her frame, likely on the account of her constantly being on the move. Luckily for her, being a vampire didn't get in the way of her indulgences. Just now when she made her bacon and eggs, she'd wash it down with a blood pack instead of juice.

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Bernard pondered the question as he manoeuvred them with care through the crowd. It would seem a fair number of participants were being reassigned, a handful of the couples they passed clearly in the introductory stages.

“I’ll eat just about anything,” he replied, scrunching his nose at the thought of the mushy albino broccoli. “Except cauliflower,” he added as an afterthought. For it didn’t matter how it was served, whether the flavour was overpowered by curry or sealed in with herbs, he refused to cede. He gave aloo gobi a wide berth, and made it a point of staying away from most white vegetables. Daikon hadn’t won his favour over. Turnips weren’t invited, either.

“What abou you?”

[Meara]

"Yeah cauliflower is sort of low key gross." Meara agreed as her blue eyes were eyeing up the buffet and the seating options. The organizers of this event seemed to have spared no expense or detail in their preparation as the spread before them was rather impressive. Personally, she was looking forward to a nice plate of pasta and some salad. If she could voice a preference, she wanted to sit away from the buffet so she might actually be able to hear Bernard. And his oh so wonderful British accent. Maybe it was super stereotypical of her as an American Woman, but she was a sucker for foreign accents.

"I also like most foods, though I really am not a big fan of most meat products other than fish." She admitted, alluding to the fact she was a pescatarian. Meara was a sucker for cute animals, so she had mostly given up on meat a long time ago. Besides there was so much cheese and starch to eat instead. As she finished talking, she spied a table near the back of the tent, far away from the drone of the crowd surrounding the food. "Hey there's a booth in the back, so why don't we grab a plate and head back there to have a chat?"

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As opposed to his date, Bernard was a big game eater. There was hardly room for morality and food sources when a growing majority of the city’s population feasted on the other. Sure, animals deserved to be cared for properly and to be killed humanely (ha!), but he wasn’t about to give up a good source of protein to make a political statement. He voiced none of this.

“If the booth is taken before then, I’ll meet you back here at this,” he warily eyed the sculpture. While the planners had certainly spared no expense, they’d missed the ‘classy’ mark. “Whatever this monstrosity is supposed to be,” he said, referring to the oddly shaped sculpture of vegetables to his right.

“Doubt we’ll be out-seated though,” he added, squeezing her upper arm as he moved past her. Where he wished to go, she could not follow. The grill sizzled on the opposite end of the buffet, and there were one too many people already waiting around for the freshly cooked steaks. Gathering a plate, he moved into the line.