"Your order of bouillabaisse, madam, with the clams and fish imported directly from Bilgewater," the mustachioed waiter said, presenting a white bowl, its innards occupied with an exquisite seafood soup, the white rim girding the hot stew peppered with green seasoning. Steam wafted towards the ceiling from the bowl's contents, exposed clam shells glistening in the orange light of the dining room.
Stepping briskly to his left, the waiter proceeds to grab another silver tray from an elegant cart, opening the tray's lid to expose a plate; upon its surface stood two pieces of meat, accompanied with scattered vegetables.
"And your order of Freljordian lamb cutlets with buttered peas and new potatoes monsieur, the meat slightly brushed with oil as you requested," the waiter said, placing the plate on the magenta table cloth before standing upright, a white cloth hanging from his crooked right arm. "If there is anything else, please just ask."
"I think that is all we need for tonight, thank you," the Summoner replies politely after silently asking Sarah if there was anything else needed with his eyes, to which she replied with a quick shake of her head.
The waiter bows before swiftly exiting the scene, pushing his cart along into the hidden kitchen that lay behind the walls embellished with fine curtains and tapestries. As the Summoner had promised, the menu was laden with a surprising selection of fine foods, with everything from signature Noxian flame-roasted pig to Ionian dim sum.
Just as exquisite as the food on the menu was, the dining hall itself was an extravagant chamber illuminated by crystal chandelier fixtures that emanated a soft orange glow. Every table was clothed in hand-woven tablecloths, candleholders attached with flickering flames occupying the center of each one.
Sarah picked up her spoon, eager to have a taste of her beloved soup. She had only eaten it a few times prior, all during missions to high-class locales similar to Casino Royale Demacia. Pausing however, she takes a tentative glance upwards, catching sight of the Summoner's eyes staring at her, his hands clasped.
Roused by the sudden eye contact, the Summoner straightens himself, stuffing a white napkin inside the opening of his suit before grasping his knife and fork. Grinning brightly, he pauses before his silverware makes contact with his meat.
"Well, as the nobles say, bon appeti!"
His knife digging into the brownish flesh of his cooked lamb, he continues speaking.
"I presume that you are partial to Bilgewater's seafood?" the Summoner inquires before sticking a slice of lamb accompanied with a piece of buttered potato into his mouth.
Sarah smiles at him after taking a spoonful of her soup, the fiery yet delicate flavor of the stew lingering on her tongue before she replies.
"Of course," she says matter-of-factly "I've been living in Bilgewater all my life, so it is obvious that my palate would conform to the food presented to me hun."
The Summoner nods, before silently resuming his meal. Sarah follows suit, consuming another spoonful of her warm soup.
This continues for the remainder of their meal, silence permeating between them unless the Summoner dictated small bouts of insignificant conversation. Sarah periodically looked up to steal glances of the Summoner as he enjoyed his meal heartily, chewing slowly with his eyes always looking about him; almost as if he was apprehensive.
As the meal passed by in this manner, the Summoner finally gently wipes his mouth in a ceremonial flourish of the white cloth tucked inside of his suit, carefully folding it and placing it beside his plate afterwards.
Sarah soon finishes her bouillabaisse. She licks her lips with relish, not bothering to wipe her mouth.
The Summoner smiles at this, and proceeds to remove yet another cigarette from his inner pocket, deftly lighting it before taking an inhale of smoke.
"Absolutely delicious, which I suppose is to be expected from Casino Royale Demacia," he said before taking another inhale of his indulgence. "I trust that you enjoyed the dinner as well?"
"Quite so. Never tasted better bouillabaisse in my life."
"Probably because I've only eaten it twice," she thought to herself.
The Summoner nods approvingly, obviously impressed. After a brief silence, and another puff of smoke, he proceeds to speak, a sort of apologetic look occupying his visage.
"Now, excuse me for saying this, but I never really expected you to be a cultured type."
Sarah smirks as she revels in the irony of his statement.
"Goes the same direction for me dearie," she replies honestly, head unintentionally tilted seductively on her hand; force of habit. "I was quite surprised to see you so refined. I don't recall you acting this way, or maybe my recollections of you are distorted?"
A throaty chuckle ensues from him, as he waved away the waiters who had cleared their table of its contents, simultaneously inquiring if he or Sarah desired any dessert.
"I'm afraid that your recollections are most likely spot on," the Summoner said, extinguishing his cigarette on an ashtray atop the table, "for I am prone to don a different mantel when I'm in the field."
"'In the field'?"
"Recall that my presence here is purely for matters of business," he replied, clasping his hands together on the table.
His last comment seems to suddenly awake Sarah from her delusion that the dinner and conversations with the Summoner were completely recreational. The steely skin of the Ruger Mark II suddenly makes its presence known as her skin feels its steel press against her, alerted of her forgotten mission.
Her sudden surge emotions must have seeped to her expressions, for the Summoner looks at her with a concerned look as he inquired,
"Is something wrong?"
Collecting herself quickly, she realizes that the faster she had the Summoner in her grasp, literally and metaphorically, the less difficult her job would be to execute once the time comes for her to finish it.
This fact solidifies itself as her eye catches a waiter leaning nonchalantly in a doorway across the room, his face grim and staring directly at hers. Their eyes lock, causing the waiter's head to jerk backwards to signal that it was time. With that, he turns and casually walks away out of sight.
Sarah is left to stare at the empty doorway before she feels the Summoner's steely eyes looking into hers.
"Is…something wrong?"
"Nothing," she said, surprisingly convincing, her gaze returning to his, "nothing at all."
The Summoner responds by merely staring at her with his face wearing an expression that was impossible to read. She immediately smiles sultrily at him, desperate to break the awkwardness currently existing between the two.
"So…I heard the suites upstairs are quite lavish."
"Very," the Summoner responds, his expression only changing slightly to a more positive visage, "I've been staying in mine for almost a fortnight. Why?"
Sarah's grin curves upward slightly. She leans back into her chair, her hand gently whipping about in the air to act as another outlet for emotions.
"Oh, I just thought we could get away to somewhere more…private. I mean, surely you occasionally mix business with pleasure?"
An eyebrow rises on the Summoner's face.
"On the contrary," he leans forward on the table, "I always try my best to incorporate the two."
"If that's true, then I'm sure you'd be happy to oblige if I said I required your services to provide my pleasure," Sarah said seductively, her eyes at half-mast.
"So how about it?"
Her invitation lingers in the air as the Summoner seems to contemplate on his answer. After several moments, he finally gives in.
"For old time's sake?"
A mischievous giggle.
"For old time's sake."
