xp_logs | Warren and Monet, Wednesday Night

Monet and Warren catch a quick dinner in town

If there was one thing Monet firmly believed, it was that weather appropriate clothing happened to other people and she was, despite the chill in the air, dressed in a skirt and light top, though she'd opted for closed, rather than open shoes, hating the sensation of walking through puddles. "So, any ideas about what you want for dinner?" she asked Warren.

Warren didn't believe in weather appropriate clothing either - he did, however, believe in clothes that helped hide his wings, which explained the heavy trench coat he wore over his suit. His hands were shoved into his pockets as he contemplated Monet's question.

"Seafood? I've had something of a craving recently."

"Sure, as long as you promise I don't have to eat anything with more limbs than Kurt," Monet replied. "I know a good place uptown a little way..."

"Not fond of calamari? You're missing out." He flashed her a grin. "All the more for me, I suppose. Lead the way." Warren wasn't about to doubt Monet's taste in cuisine.

"I've tried. I just can't get past the fact that they're about as smart as puppies, you know?" Monet gestured to a Japanese-fusion place. "I've heard that these guys do great seafood," she said. "Just try to get past the Polish side of the menu. There's a lot of things that just aren't happy on that side of it."

"... I don't tend to think about the intelligence levels of my food. By the time it gets to my plate, all traces of brain activity should have long ceased." He moved to the door, pushing it open and holding it so for Monet to walk in. "Do the Poles even have food worth eating?"

"Like I said. that half of the menu is very sad. I'd ignore most of it. There's this ... thing with beetroot that's good, though. But mostly we're here because the chef is a refugee from a Michelin restaurant and has this thing for fish. Half the waiters are in awe of him. It's really cute." She smiled at the waitress at the door and took a seat.

"I trust you," Warren said with a smile. "Other than the beetroot thing, what else would you recommend?" He took the menu from the waitress, starting to flick through it.

"Anything on the Japanese side, but I wouldn't go the squid." Monet smiled and ordered, getting a bottle of white wine as well. "That's not just for me, for what it's worth."

"Is the squid actually bad, or are you just biased?" There were a lot of legs involved, after all. "You mean you can't polish off a bottle of wine by yourself?" He flashed her a grin.

"I'll let you decide about the squid, okay? And, yeah, okay, I could drink a bottle of wine all by myself but sitting there cuddling it and going 'mine' is kind of poor form, you know. Besides, l got a bit lost the last time I tried to fly home drunk," Monet said, smiling.

"I feel like I should try it now, just to be contrary." He grinned a little. "Last time I went flying drunk, I had a spotter." His grin faded slightly at the memory, since it had been Jay that had made sure he got home okay. "Clearly it's almost as dangerous as driving drunk." Except the only casualties were likely to be yourself. And maybe some birds.

Monet giggled, still slightly embarrassed, years later. "Um, actually there was house once. And three trees and a fence. The fence was mostly okay, though. I mean, I'd pretty much stopped by then."

"So really, I'm doing the world a great public service by not letting you get drunk. I like it." Of course, he was something of a lightweight, so he was likely to get tipsy far quicker than she does.

"Quite possibly. It's very sad."

"Just as long as you keep me from doing anything stupid. Since we all know what a lightweight I am." He grinned.

She laughed. "Dude, that's easy. I guess we buddy fly each other home later, then?" Monet smiled and thanked the waiter as he brought the food over.

"I think this could be dangerous. But deal."

Monet gave the slightly mad smile of the functionally invulnerable. "Sounds like fun."