"So I thought that we'd head to the park first, perhaps do a little reading there while it's still light. It's usually not busy this time of day, so we shouldn't be interrupted by anything while we discuss the direction for the story."

"Mhmm."

"I decided not to bring the laptop this time, so I won't be able to take notes quite as fast, but don't let that stop you from offering suggestions for my work! You know I always appreciate your opinion."

"Arthur."

"Also, I wasn't certain if you would have eaten or not yet, and I was already making some stew for my meals for the remainder of the week, so I brought you some as well."

"Artie, are you even-Wait, what?"

The idea had been nagging at him all day until he'd finally mustered up the courage to ask Amelia out for a "personal get-together". Though he hadn't expected such a quick and positive response, he'd spent all day preparing for their evening. Just as instructed, he'd met Amelia after work and was pleasantly surprised that his clothing choice and meeting place had been well received. The two walked side by side down the sidewalk on the way to the park, Arthur's bag occasionally knocking at his knees as he tried not to look nervous about the entire situation.

Taking Amelia's inquiry as his cue, he stopped and pulled from his case a small container of beef stew-still warm.

"It's Beef Stew! A recipe straight from my mother." he answered, seeming pleased with himself.

Amelia offered a wavering smile in return. She'd had his cooking before.

"O-Oh! Thanks, Arthur. That's so….sweet of you!"

If Arthur had caught the uncertainty in her tone, he didn't show it and merely returned the stew to his bag.

"Eating it here, however, would be quite odd. Are you willing to wait until we reach the park?"

"Hahaha," she laughed weakly, "Don't worry about me, Artie. You know I snack all the time at work." she repositioned the shoulder strap of her purse nervously, "Though I guess I should cut down on those scones, huh?"

"Amelia, you're a lovely woman who shouldn't have to worry about appearances. I won't have you dragging yourself down like those walking sticks on the run-way these days."

The words had left his lips before he could contain them, and he wasn't entirely sure he regretted. He meant what he said….but perhaps not in such an informal manner. He dared look to her out of the corner of his eyes, her gentle smile causing him to flush wildly.

"AHEM! I mean...Why don't we continue before it gets any darker, eh?"

They reached the outskirts of the park and Arthur immediately began scouting for an unoccupied bench. No sooner had he found it than Amelia had spied another object of interest.

"Be right back!" she called, not even waiting for his response as she scurried over to a colorful white van with a rotating ice-cream cone on top of it.

Arthur stood by his chosen territory, disappointment on his face when his dat-professional acquaintance arrived with a triple-decker scoop of chocolate ice cream on a waffle cone. A look of sheer joy was spread across her face, which fell only slightly when she noticed Arthur's expression.

"Ohhhh that's right, the stew! Sorry, Art. I'll be sure to try your stew some other time, though."

"You and your ice cream," Arthur sighed, "Right, right. I'll hold you to that."

The two sat down and Arthur pulled out the infamous Black Journal of Infinite Possibilities.

"The ideas I have for this chapter, I'll admit, is a bit stranger than the previous

ones."

"Robbie been helping you write them again?"

"For the last time, his name is Christopher Robin. You may address him as

Robin, Christopher, or Chris; Robbie is not appropriate for a cat of his stature."

Amelia laughed.

"You know I just love to tease you," she eyed her treat, "You sure you don't want some?" she offered, holding it out just inches from his face as if to suggest he have

the first bite.

Arthur's hands clenched the edges of the journal, swallowing hard to the implication of her actions. He regained his composure and politely shook his head.

"Your American confections are a bit too sweet for me, besides, I don't want to waste any of your beloved 'joy on a cone', as you say."

Amelia merely shrugged and then began to unceremoniously consume her meal.

She looked up to the page with expectant eyes, although he knew that she still wanted him to read it aloud. That's one thing they'd guessed right over there in England: American girls had a thing for British accents. Of course, he didn't mind. Reading out loud was a great way for him to see if his writing truly made any sense...it was just a bonus that it made his "professional editor" happy as well.

"And that's what I've got so far." Arthur closed the journal with a resounding 'snap'. The lights from nearby lamps that had clicked on once the sun set emitted a soft glow about the two now. Amelia had finished her ice cream long ago and now sat shoulder-to-shoulder with him. Her eyes fluttered ever so slightly.

"Wow, Alfred definitely had to go through a lot, didn't he? Seems a little unfair to make that Alice girl so mean to him just because he's a bit of a hick." Amelia spoke from personal experience, having come from the small-town farm life as well.

"Well, it is a bit of a brash individual. It's hard to warm up to someone who's outgoing enough for the whole town. You have to remember that Alice is an introvert. The two really shouldn't like each other"

"But they do, don't they?"

Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but paused to see Amelia sporting her puppy-dog eyes. Among the many things about Amelia that Arthur was weak to, her puppy-dog eyes were one of the strongest weapons she had of getting her way. During their many cafe chats, she'd told him stories of how she could have easily gotten away with murder back home by using it.

"Maybe….We'll have to see. Alice doesn't seem the type to fall for his charm."

Amelia looked pleased before standing and stretching to relieve the strain in her back from a long day of work.

"Well, ol' chap, it's getting late and I should be heading home."

"As a gentleman, I suppose it would be my duty to escort you."

Amelia pulled her handbag over her shoulder and stood, heels together and back straight.

"I'd definitely say leaving me would lose you a few points on the Gentleman-o-meter."

Arthur chuckled and gathered his things, shortly after departing with her on the quiet trek back to her apartment. It was conveniently on the way back to his own flat, and following wishes of goodnight and promises to meet again soon, he found the way back to the new place he called home. Unfortunately for him, a particular roommate decided to also be home. For once.

"Ahh! Mon ami~ You are home late. Perhaps spending some personal time with a lady friend, no?"

"Knock off, Francis. I'm not going to let you ruin my mood this evening."

Arthur removed his shoes and entered the foyer, plopping his bag down on a nearby chair.

"Le poo! You are always so mean to me when I only have the best intentions in mind."

"Don't act like I'm the villain. Look, I even brought you a gift." Arthur replied, reaching into the bag to locate the-by now cold-container of stew. He stealthily removed it and placed it in the hand he held behind his back. Crossing the way over to where Francis was leaning against the couch, he gestured for Francis to hold out his hand. The man raised a delicate brow, but obliged nonetheless. Arthur smirked, a dark look on his face as he placed it in his waiting palm.

"Do enjoy, my friend."

"Mon dieu! I have been tainted by English Cooking!"

Arthur ignored the cries of the Frenchman and sauntered off to his room in triumph.

Author's Note: TINY little thing this time...Just wanted to write something down for an event on the blog. But thank you all SO much for your support and, as usual, you can always follow the blog/art at

ask-writerarthur . tumblr . com

~Faux