A/N: Guess what? The dinner items I mention are from a place called "Anasazi Restaurant"! Usually, I wouldn't describe them in so much detail, but I had to pay homage to the Anasazi restaurant. I ate there once, with my dad. It's in Santa Fe, near the mile of galleries, and is expensive. Of course, I had to get my picture taken there, and I brought back one of those sample menus. It's my sacred relic!
And the song is by Norah Jones.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The melodic tones of a harp and the quiet murmur of polite conversation filled the spacious first floor of one of the most well-known restaurants throughout the Known Worlds. A soft, golden glow seemed to settle upon every piece of furniture, every utensil, and everyone like an expensive varnish. Simply liveried staff flitted from table to table to kitchen so skillfully and silently that the establishment seemed to run like an oiled machine.
Any place where light laughter and loving glances passed between the patrons were more common than bullets and shouting matches was almost alien to Beka. She looked down at herself and smoothed her clothing. For the most part, Beka detested dresses, so she wore black satin pants with a crimson stripe down the outside of each leg, an illusively sheer top of the same dark red with a single, loose sleeve, black leather ankle boots, and three scarlet armbands on her uncovered arm. She even tipped her short hair in a matching shade.
She wished that she could take a picture of her crew that evening; in their best clothes, everybody looked so content and relaxed. Trance was sleek in a dark purple, velvet catsuit, a pink belt, and pink and purple streaks among her blond curls, her new furry purse hanging from her shoulder. Harper looked as if he might actually have a chance with a girl who /wouldn't/ demand payment, wearing in black pants, a white dress shirt, and a not-too-formal black jacket with dark blue piping. And then there was Tyr... the omnipresent leather pants with a dark grey, high collared and very well-fitted shirt with loop and hook clasps down its side, his full-length black leather duster, and smoky silver gauntlets. He looked like a general or prime minister, taking a few hours from the endless challenges of his position to enjoy the rewards of his work. The garments themselves looked almost plain in their simplicity, but the fabric and cut belied their expense. The effect was like that of a high-ranking military uniform, supremely efficient, capable, and aware of his surroundings.
A slow smile crossed Beka's face. /And ladies, he's all mine./
"Ready, kids?" They stood in the ivory-carpeted lobby, gazing at the unobtrusive elegance of the place.
Trance nodded eagerly. "I love Cavanaugh's! I've only been here once before, a long time ago, and it was great! I mean, although I didn't really know what I was eating."
Harper straightened his sleeves. "See, Beka? I told you it was a good idea to let this guy on board."
Beka laughed as happily as she ever had. Tyr offered her his arm, and behind them, Trance grabbed Harper's hands and skipped to the maître d's podium. The Makra's green eyes studied Tyr a split second longer than the others, and he nodded gravely at the Nietzschean. "Mr. Anasazi," the low voice was almost a purr, "may I say how lovely you and your companions appear tonight. Please, follow me to your table."
Beka raised an eyebrow. "Friends with the guys at Cavanaugh's? I'm impressed."
They sat at a dark wood table draped in dark green damask, matching elaborate vines curled around gold and clouded crystal lanterns set high on the walls. Harper sat very still, apparently overawed by the luxurious setting. For a moment, Beka felt melancholy, wishing that Harper hadn't grown up on such deprivation that a place like this could have such an effect on him. Then she saw Trance whisper something to him, and he cracked a smile.
Her crew ordered Kir Royals and Beka sparkling water lightly flavored with limes and raspberries. They clinked glasses to Tyr's toast of life and love and Harper's of luck.
Their waiter solemnly recited the evening's specials and patiently explained half of the menu's items to Trance without a trace of disdain or annoyance at her questions. Beka suspected that she even saw the dignified man's lips twitch at the girl's merriment.
Before the main course, fragrant bread was delivered to their table, along with half a dozen garnishes, then steaming soups, little appetizer dishes called /antipasti/, and finally, a small bowl of sorbet. Trance asked the waiter why they served dessert before supper, and he replied respectfully that the sorbet was meant to cleanse the palate.
Their aperitifs were refilled, and then dinner drink orders taken. Tyr ordered a bottle of Merlot, and Beka decided on something called a rose lassi on the waiter's recommendation. He didn't even blink when he she told him that she never drank.
Finally, the time for the main course rolled around. Tyr ordered cinnamon-chile rubbed beef medallions, which came with white cheddar mashed potatoes and mango salsa. Trance chose at last pan-seared scallops with angel hair pasta with grilled vegetables and two pestos after she discovered what scallops and pestos were. Harper got grilled New York strip with cactus pear demi and poblano-white cheddar scalloped potatoes, probably because of the reference to the Earth city. After much deliberation of her own, Beka settled on on pan-roasted gulf shrimp in an habanero-mango glaze with a sie of grilled corn tortilla and lime soup with white cheddar and snake cracker.
Naturally, everything was delicious. Their conversation stayed on light topics—no mentions of the T'dalimar, Aricia, or Tyr's forthcoming departure were made by silent agreement. The wine made Trance hiccup, and everyone tasted a bite of everyone else's food. For dessert, they ordered /tiramisu al marscapone e caffe/ (translated into Common by Tyr) and each different hot coffee beverages.
When they had finished eating and were nursing their still-warm dessert coffees, no one hurried them to pay and leave. They lingered for nearly an hour, conversing about this and that and the general state of things before Tyr hailed the waiter and handed him a credit disc.
They still had a few hours until Tyr would go his separate ways, so while Trance and Harper prowled around the drift, Bijou du Ciel, Tyr and Beka found an upscale lounge with a bar and a full dance floor. They spent their remaining time together in each other's arms, the music in the background only half-heard.
A woman dressed in blue came up on the stage and began singing soft jazz tunes. Half the dancers left to sit down at small tables, and several new couples entered the floor, holding each other just as were Tyr and Beka. To her surprise, Beka noted that the songs were in English, just like her rock songs. They left after the woman's final song, which would stay with Beka for days afterward.
She alerted Trance and Harper via their wrist units that it was time to leave. The other two crewmembers looked a little subdued when they met up with Beka and Tyr, obviously aware of the significance of the night.
The slip to Seneschal was an easy one, and no one spoke aloud an unnecessary word. Beka was trying to focus on the slipstream, Trance and Harper whispered between themselves, and Tyr was... busy with thoughts of his own.
When they docked, Beka stood at the airlock as Tyr collected his few things, and Harper and Trance hovered near her awkwardly. Tyr emerged with his small bags, eyes locked on Beka. Trance drew Harper back to give the two time to say their goodbyes. Beka couldn't understand why she felt so reluctant to let him go—after all, it would only be two weeks apart. She felt uneasy too, as if afraid of what could happen in these upcoming days, which she told herself was completely ridiculous. Tyr could handle himself very well… and she discovered that it really wasn't his physical survival that concerned her. It was something else, something she couldn't quite name, or didn't dare to.
Tyr set down his bags. "Two weeks, Merriam-Webster, noon." His dry, factual words didn't match his soft, warm tone or the expression in his dark eyes.
Beka smiled painfully. "It's a date."
He cupped her face in one hand and brushed back a strand of hair, as he so often did. He kissed her very lightly, then drew back and gazed down at her. "Until we meet again, Rebecca." He lifted his bags once more and walked quietly out of the airlock.
Trance came forward and wrapped her tail around Beka's shoulders in a sort of embrace, and Harper walked close beside her. The song from earlier that night played in Beka' head as she tore her eyes from the outer door to return to her quarters for the night.
/Come away with me in the night
Come away with me
And I will write you a song
Come away with me on a bus
Come away with me where they can't tempt us
With their lies
I want to walk with you
On a cloudy day
In fields where the yellow grass grows
knee high
So won't you try to come
Come away with me and we'll kiss
On a mountain top
Come away with me
And I'll never stop loving you
And I want to wake up with the rain
Falling on a tin roof
While I'm safe there in your arms
So all I ask is for you
To come away with me in the night
Come away with me/
And the song is by Norah Jones.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The melodic tones of a harp and the quiet murmur of polite conversation filled the spacious first floor of one of the most well-known restaurants throughout the Known Worlds. A soft, golden glow seemed to settle upon every piece of furniture, every utensil, and everyone like an expensive varnish. Simply liveried staff flitted from table to table to kitchen so skillfully and silently that the establishment seemed to run like an oiled machine.
Any place where light laughter and loving glances passed between the patrons were more common than bullets and shouting matches was almost alien to Beka. She looked down at herself and smoothed her clothing. For the most part, Beka detested dresses, so she wore black satin pants with a crimson stripe down the outside of each leg, an illusively sheer top of the same dark red with a single, loose sleeve, black leather ankle boots, and three scarlet armbands on her uncovered arm. She even tipped her short hair in a matching shade.
She wished that she could take a picture of her crew that evening; in their best clothes, everybody looked so content and relaxed. Trance was sleek in a dark purple, velvet catsuit, a pink belt, and pink and purple streaks among her blond curls, her new furry purse hanging from her shoulder. Harper looked as if he might actually have a chance with a girl who /wouldn't/ demand payment, wearing in black pants, a white dress shirt, and a not-too-formal black jacket with dark blue piping. And then there was Tyr... the omnipresent leather pants with a dark grey, high collared and very well-fitted shirt with loop and hook clasps down its side, his full-length black leather duster, and smoky silver gauntlets. He looked like a general or prime minister, taking a few hours from the endless challenges of his position to enjoy the rewards of his work. The garments themselves looked almost plain in their simplicity, but the fabric and cut belied their expense. The effect was like that of a high-ranking military uniform, supremely efficient, capable, and aware of his surroundings.
A slow smile crossed Beka's face. /And ladies, he's all mine./
"Ready, kids?" They stood in the ivory-carpeted lobby, gazing at the unobtrusive elegance of the place.
Trance nodded eagerly. "I love Cavanaugh's! I've only been here once before, a long time ago, and it was great! I mean, although I didn't really know what I was eating."
Harper straightened his sleeves. "See, Beka? I told you it was a good idea to let this guy on board."
Beka laughed as happily as she ever had. Tyr offered her his arm, and behind them, Trance grabbed Harper's hands and skipped to the maître d's podium. The Makra's green eyes studied Tyr a split second longer than the others, and he nodded gravely at the Nietzschean. "Mr. Anasazi," the low voice was almost a purr, "may I say how lovely you and your companions appear tonight. Please, follow me to your table."
Beka raised an eyebrow. "Friends with the guys at Cavanaugh's? I'm impressed."
They sat at a dark wood table draped in dark green damask, matching elaborate vines curled around gold and clouded crystal lanterns set high on the walls. Harper sat very still, apparently overawed by the luxurious setting. For a moment, Beka felt melancholy, wishing that Harper hadn't grown up on such deprivation that a place like this could have such an effect on him. Then she saw Trance whisper something to him, and he cracked a smile.
Her crew ordered Kir Royals and Beka sparkling water lightly flavored with limes and raspberries. They clinked glasses to Tyr's toast of life and love and Harper's of luck.
Their waiter solemnly recited the evening's specials and patiently explained half of the menu's items to Trance without a trace of disdain or annoyance at her questions. Beka suspected that she even saw the dignified man's lips twitch at the girl's merriment.
Before the main course, fragrant bread was delivered to their table, along with half a dozen garnishes, then steaming soups, little appetizer dishes called /antipasti/, and finally, a small bowl of sorbet. Trance asked the waiter why they served dessert before supper, and he replied respectfully that the sorbet was meant to cleanse the palate.
Their aperitifs were refilled, and then dinner drink orders taken. Tyr ordered a bottle of Merlot, and Beka decided on something called a rose lassi on the waiter's recommendation. He didn't even blink when he she told him that she never drank.
Finally, the time for the main course rolled around. Tyr ordered cinnamon-chile rubbed beef medallions, which came with white cheddar mashed potatoes and mango salsa. Trance chose at last pan-seared scallops with angel hair pasta with grilled vegetables and two pestos after she discovered what scallops and pestos were. Harper got grilled New York strip with cactus pear demi and poblano-white cheddar scalloped potatoes, probably because of the reference to the Earth city. After much deliberation of her own, Beka settled on on pan-roasted gulf shrimp in an habanero-mango glaze with a sie of grilled corn tortilla and lime soup with white cheddar and snake cracker.
Naturally, everything was delicious. Their conversation stayed on light topics—no mentions of the T'dalimar, Aricia, or Tyr's forthcoming departure were made by silent agreement. The wine made Trance hiccup, and everyone tasted a bite of everyone else's food. For dessert, they ordered /tiramisu al marscapone e caffe/ (translated into Common by Tyr) and each different hot coffee beverages.
When they had finished eating and were nursing their still-warm dessert coffees, no one hurried them to pay and leave. They lingered for nearly an hour, conversing about this and that and the general state of things before Tyr hailed the waiter and handed him a credit disc.
They still had a few hours until Tyr would go his separate ways, so while Trance and Harper prowled around the drift, Bijou du Ciel, Tyr and Beka found an upscale lounge with a bar and a full dance floor. They spent their remaining time together in each other's arms, the music in the background only half-heard.
A woman dressed in blue came up on the stage and began singing soft jazz tunes. Half the dancers left to sit down at small tables, and several new couples entered the floor, holding each other just as were Tyr and Beka. To her surprise, Beka noted that the songs were in English, just like her rock songs. They left after the woman's final song, which would stay with Beka for days afterward.
She alerted Trance and Harper via their wrist units that it was time to leave. The other two crewmembers looked a little subdued when they met up with Beka and Tyr, obviously aware of the significance of the night.
The slip to Seneschal was an easy one, and no one spoke aloud an unnecessary word. Beka was trying to focus on the slipstream, Trance and Harper whispered between themselves, and Tyr was... busy with thoughts of his own.
When they docked, Beka stood at the airlock as Tyr collected his few things, and Harper and Trance hovered near her awkwardly. Tyr emerged with his small bags, eyes locked on Beka. Trance drew Harper back to give the two time to say their goodbyes. Beka couldn't understand why she felt so reluctant to let him go—after all, it would only be two weeks apart. She felt uneasy too, as if afraid of what could happen in these upcoming days, which she told herself was completely ridiculous. Tyr could handle himself very well… and she discovered that it really wasn't his physical survival that concerned her. It was something else, something she couldn't quite name, or didn't dare to.
Tyr set down his bags. "Two weeks, Merriam-Webster, noon." His dry, factual words didn't match his soft, warm tone or the expression in his dark eyes.
Beka smiled painfully. "It's a date."
He cupped her face in one hand and brushed back a strand of hair, as he so often did. He kissed her very lightly, then drew back and gazed down at her. "Until we meet again, Rebecca." He lifted his bags once more and walked quietly out of the airlock.
Trance came forward and wrapped her tail around Beka's shoulders in a sort of embrace, and Harper walked close beside her. The song from earlier that night played in Beka' head as she tore her eyes from the outer door to return to her quarters for the night.
/Come away with me in the night
Come away with me
And I will write you a song
Come away with me on a bus
Come away with me where they can't tempt us
With their lies
I want to walk with you
On a cloudy day
In fields where the yellow grass grows
knee high
So won't you try to come
Come away with me and we'll kiss
On a mountain top
Come away with me
And I'll never stop loving you
And I want to wake up with the rain
Falling on a tin roof
While I'm safe there in your arms
So all I ask is for you
To come away with me in the night
Come away with me/