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Inside, Elle checked her watch, turning her slender wrist to check the delicate diamond watch that adorned her in glittering fashion. A quarter past, and Vera had just sent the text that they had arrived. They were exactly on time. If she could count on the tiny Russian for anything, it was to be on time. And, she had found, she could count on Vera to get almost anything done. The woman was a miracle worker.

With a brilliant smile flashed at her waitress, she flagged the woman down, and offered a gentle pat of the woman’s hand. “If you do not mind, madame, a bottle of your finest wine?” The woman looked down the length of her slender, tan nose at the vampire, and all but scoffed in her face. “Our finest wine is six thousand dollars a bottle, madame.” The slight woman gave a flick of her blonde hair and arched a brow after announcing the price into the unflinching Frenchwoman’s face. Elle sat quietly for a moment, before she drummed her fingers once against the table top.

“Mademoiselle, if you do not care, madame. Now. My wine?” She gave an idle flourish of her fingers, her icy tone cutting the woman down to size without overtly being rude to the poor creature. Serving staff held a certain esteem in France, and particularly in Paris. Elle had learned long ago that these were people that deserved her respect. They, like this young woman, had yet to learn exactly why it was that she should respect the tall blonde in her section that evening, but she would learn at least a small portion of that soon enough. She let the dark expression that had settled over her with the clipped exchange with the waitress lift away, and smiled as she turned her gaze to the door, where she had fully expected to find her date waiting to be escorted to her seat.

“You as well, Mouse,” she muttered absently as she stepped from the car, only to be met with the blaring sign of one of Harper Rock’s most prestigious restaurants. The name was familiar to her, and after a few seconds of cycling through her memory, she realized why. It was one of the few establishments that her father inhabited when he visited – and one of the few she stayed clear of. Even now, her feet seemed to be encased in cement, and she nearly headed back for the limo – only to find it already peeling down the road, as if Vera had somehow managed to read her mind.

Realizing she was on her own, she kept her head high as she waltzed straight through the door, her smile as chilled as the ice that the wine set in. “Name, madame?” The soft spoken voice had her attention turning to the small woman at the podium, her eyes wide behind wire-rimmed glasses. Yet, as innocent as her attire – and smile – might appear, there was a cold judgment to her glare as she swept it across her dress, her lip curling into the faintest of sneers. “I believe you mean to take a seat at the McDonald’s down the road?” The question was dropped in a quiet, heated whisper, and the as the host’s lips curved into a cruel grin, Ivara simply raised a brow.

“Not quite,” she replied, her voice dripping with disdain as she turned the full weight of her Icelandic glare towards the woman. “However, if you wish to continue with your childish remarks, I am certain I can manage to get you employed there. I hear they are looking for a janitor. Now, if you don’t mind, can you please seat me at Miss Fontaine’s table?” As the host worked to lift her jaw from the floor, she watched as a familiar face hurried towards her, cheeks reddened with shame. With a quick flick of his wrist, Samuel pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his thin nose as he turned to hiss something that had the woman paling.

“Miss Johansson. I apologize, oh, do I apologize. Right this way! Your lovely date for the evening has been such a delight!” His voice as loud as the tie he wore about his neck, he quickly lead her through the crowd towards the blonde, and once he had her at the table, he disappeared, no doubt in search of the cattish host. “Elle, you look… lovely… this evening.” The compliment slipped unbidden from her lips as she slid into her seat, fingers curling about the stem of her wine glass.

The smile threatened to fade at the exchange between Ivara and the hostess, the venom in the little tart’s words carrying over the quiet din of the restaurant, threatening to draw the attention of every person in the room, if Ivara’s presence itself hadn’t already. She was an absolute vision. The beauty of the sight of her kept the smile plastered to Elle’s face, and she doubted that she could hide it if she tried. It only grew wider at her compliment, and she gave an idle wave of her hand, dismissively letting it wag from her wrist as she shook her head.

“Ah, Cherie, but you are most lovely this evening. I pale in comparison, surely.” She smiled, then, and snapped her fingers as the manager that had accompanied her to the table had turned to leave, and waggled her finger at the chair in front of the tall, statuesque brunette. “The lady’s chair, monsieur? Or have the rules of etiquette in fine dining changed so much since my last visit, that a man no longer pulls out the chair for a lady?” Her eyes scolded the man to the point that, should looks do the man physical harm, she would have flayed the flesh from his bones before she froze him solid with the ice in those sharp blues.

The man, shocked into fearful action, pulled the seat out for Ivara before he beat a retreat so swift it surprised even Elle. She chuckled at the man’s cowardice, even as she watched him snatch the hostess’s elbow and drag her out the front door. She was certain that the cattiness had just cost the woman her job. She allowed her glare to heat again, and turned her gaze on her date, and offered the woman a smile.

“You fill out that dress a lot better than I expected, petite oiseau. I think I did well. You look stunning.” She held out her hand, indicating that the woman should sit, as she offered a glance to where their waitress had vanished into the kitchen, and was certainly taking her precious time with the wine. “I ordered a bottle for us, but it would appear that the wait staff is as incompetent as the host staff. I do apologize, this is most embarrassing. I expected better from a place with such a reputation.” Her gaze moved to the woman again and she sighed, pulling a golden curl from her face, and tucking it behind her ear. “We will just have to do better, next time.”

With her glass in hand, she pressed her back to the seat, the thin crystal spinning idly between her fingers. “I can’t believe I’m saying this,” she chuckled, her voice a quiet whisper as her gaze swept across the restaurant’s occupants, “You didn’t need to be so cruel to Samuel. He’s one of the finest.” Even as she spoke, she watched the door swing open, and the wary looking man all but stomped into the building, his hands wringing together as he quickly ushered a wild haired woman to the podium. A slow grin curved on her painted lips at the sight, and already, she was holding a finger up, her other hand quickly dialing a number.

Her conversation was short, and by the time she had ended the call, she seemed almost pleased. “If there is one thing my father is good for, it’s petty revenge. True, one might think I’d be above such immature acts such as black-listing her across Harper Rock, but…” Shrugging a shoulder, then, she tucked her phone back into her purse and glanced at the woman across the table. She had no idea what she was supposed to do – or how she was supposed to act. Instead of speaking, then, she lifted her glass to her lips and took a sip, the wine smooth and rich as it coated her tongue. With a quiet sound of delight, she swirled the dark liquid as one nail tapped against the stem.

Chuckling quietly, Elle shook her head as she lifted her glass, giving it a gentle swirl, allowing the crystal to aerate the smooth red, the intense bouquet of the wine filling her nose as she gave a gentle shake of her head. “No, not at all. Samuel is more than accustomed to my social demands than to the rude nature of this… staff of his. I honestly cannot, for the life of me, understand why he would hire such substandard… ingrates. Really, I am sorry, this was supposed to be a nice evening.”

She sighed, and brushed a lock of golden hair from her face as she watched the woman sip from her wine. She really was delightful to look at, the features of her face so… intense, so sharp with a defined intelligence. If Elle hadn’t already been widowed, she would have surely been after first meeting Ivara. She smiled, and took a quick sip from her glass of red before setting it to the side, lifting a delicate hand to flag down the rude waitress, her diamond watch glimmering in the light as she did.

Her attitude, though, seemed to completely change when she saw that Elle wasn’t dining alone. Ivara seemed to have brought out a cheery disposition in the waitress. Almost too cheery. The slender brunette made her way to the table, and flashed Ivara a smile. “I hope that you are finding everything to your satisfaction, mademoiselle? Can I get you anything while the first course is being prepared?”

The blonde Frenchwoman remained silent, her hand lowering and turning over to grasp her wine glass in a delicate grip, lifting the glass to her lips as she gave pause, before she set the glass aside and leaned into the table. “Madame, some water would be appreciated.” The waitress wave her hand without looking her way, and just gave Ivara another smile. “Water, then?”

Elle arched a brow, and waved her hand at the tanned woman between them. "Exactly what I mean."

“I do believe that is what my date requested, is it not? Tell me, did you sleep your way through school or were you born this dense?” The sudden chill in her tone had the waitress recoiling, the bright sparkle in her eyes dying. For a moment, she merely stood there, mouth opening and closing, as though she were a fish out of water before she seemed to collect herself. The flush that rose along her neck and dotted her cheeks was almost worrisome, as was the way her eyes seemed to glass over before she released a high-pitched growl and turned on her heel to disappear through the kitchen doors. Throughout the entire ordeal, Ivara had remained expressionless, her glass once more pressed to her lips so she could take a slow sip of the hidden delights within. “It has been a nice evening,” she finally spoke, her gaze tearing from the angrily swaying doors to Elle.

“I have been spending my nights in my office, surrounded by files that I can’t seem to break through, because my assistant ran off with my ex-girlfriend. I know, it all sounds so… basic.” It was then she laughed, the sound cold and distant, even as her eyes began to warm as she danced her gaze across her date’s features. She was beautiful, in a… unique… sort of way. Her beauty didn’t scream at her in any obvious way, as Ashley’s and Starla’s had, and she found herself more drawn the flawed lines of his face and the dip in her lips than she had ever been to the others. Perhaps it was the way she held herself, the air of maturity and confidence that she surrounded herself with. It was a breath of fresh air compared to the childish antics of her past relationships.

Finishing off her wine, she placed the glass aside and hummed, the sudden sound of shattering plates and another high-pitched squeal drowning out the sound. “Perhaps we shouldn’t eat anything that is brought to our table, Miss Fontaine. I am not one to want to taste arsenic for a third time.”

With a derisive snort of laughter, the Frenchwoman shook her head, and waved her hand idly at the kitchen door, where another fit of squealing drifted from the swinging doors, before the sound was muffled by the door closing again, only to burst again as another crash of plates filled the air. “I think you made her a little angry, dear. I think we should perhaps move on to the next portion of our evening, hm?” She pulled her purse from where it hung on the back of her chair, and removed her wallet. She pawed through the wallet, and dug out the exact change for the bottle of wine.

“I am rather not fond of some tramp spitting in my food, and I do not feel like killing anyone tonight. I will leave this for the wine, with Samuel, and you and I can… find something else worth our while for the evening.” She gave the woman a twist of her painted lips, pulling several $100 notes from the wallet as she moved to stand, throwing her shawl over her thinly covered shoulders, the sheer fabric covered over with the thick mantle of black fur that hung low over her chest.

She moved, then, to grab Ivara’s seat for her, and slipped the bottle they had purchased from the ice bucket to carry out with them, the bottle tucked under her arm. “So tell me, darling, where might one take you if they wished to show you a good time? Apparently, it is too much to ask for a good meal in a nice restaurant, so maybe we can find something a little less dependent on some jumped up whore with a superiority complex.”

She chuckled, and, taking the woman’s hand, cant her head to the door, the golden curtain of her locks covering a portion of her face before taking her fingers and brushing the locks behind her ear. “The town is ours, tonight. The world, our playground. Let’s have some fun.”

“We would have been fine to stay,” she chuckled as they stepped out into the night. With a quick flick of her wrist, she brought her fingers through her hair, loosening the honey colored curls from the ribbon she had used to secure them with. “Samuel has more than likely fired her by now, as well, if the pig squealing is any indication.” In the back of her mind, she knew that she should feel some sort of guilt at having cost two women their positions, but she found herself unable to form even the most smallest of cares. If there wasn’t a way for them to sue her – or the restaurant – she had no reason to continue to dwell on what had just transpired.

Instead, she gave a second flick of her wrist, the motion causing the diamond watch she wore to twist, bringing the face up to her view. They hadn’t spent much time in the restaurant – and now, they were outside, with what appeared to be no real plan in view. “Well, Miss Fontaine, what did you have planned after dinner? A meal couldn’t have been the only thing on the menu tonight,” she replied as she moved to cross her arms. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do. She was a woman, yes, but one that didn’t spent a lot of time worrying about romance, or what was and wasn’t proper. In fact, most of her dates consisted of a lot of alcohol consumption, a lot of sex, and ensuring they were dressed and out by morning – though, being dressed was debatable.

If they couldn’t find all their clothes in a timely manner, it wasn’t her fault.

Tucking a curl behind her ear, she turned to face her date, a brow arched in curiosity. “I believe there is a… park… near here. Ayana used to ramble on about it. If you had nothing else figured out, we could always take a walk through, and see just what she found so interesting.” She hadn’t meant to say that – in fact, she had meant to say they could just cut the night short, call it a loss, and try against some other time, but when she had opened her mouth, she had realized she hadn’t wanted to leave her side just yet.

Laughing gently, the tall blonde moved to walk alongside the slender woman at her side, one hand resting gently across the small of her back, the other gently brushing along the other’s forearm. She gave a small shake of her head as she thought about the woman’s question. Plans for after dinner had been a little different, but, with their time together cut so abruptly short, a walk through the park was… a surprisingly refreshing idea.

It had been too long since Elle had taken a walk through the park, had taken the time to relax, and to take her time enjoying the world around her. She couldn’t think of anyone she’d rather do such a thing with than Ivara. She lifted her hand from the slender brunette’s arm to push her hand through her hair, tousling the golden curls as she watched the woman’s lips as she spoke. She obviously had a serious hatchet to bury with Ayana, but she wasn’t about to tug on that thread. She had seen the darkness in Ivara, and had seen the way that she was slowly coming around.

The text that Vera had sent her hadn’t done anything but confirmed her worries.

She wanted tonight to be as lovely as she could manage, and so, she nodded, and stepped closer to the brunette’s side. “There were a… few things on the menu tonight, but one does not skip the entrée for the dessert, now do they?” She chuckled, and gave the woman’s waist the lightest squeeze. “A midnight stroll through the park with such a lovely lady sounds just what the doctor ordered. A much finer night than being mistreated by the help at a restaurant, no matter how nice the place is supposed to be.”

She smiled, and pushed her hair back over her shoulder, sparkling blue eyes moving to glance over the street where they were headed. “So tell me, my dear, which way is this park of yours?”