Emma and Ludwig are sitting amidst the Stork Club's dining room, sipping on their drinks and waiting for their food. Around them, people are talking and laughing at their own tables. The owner, Sherman Billingsley, is walking around and about, shaking hands with patrons and customers, laughing along with celebrities and clients, joyfully slapping the backs of old friends and sharing a smoke. A few tables down, a band plays the rendition of Benny Goodman and Peggy Lee's Winter Weather, the melody drifting in the room.

Emma props her elbow on the table, chin on hand, swirling her glass of red wine languidly. She catches Ludwig's eye in front of her and smiles warmly. He sighs, shaking his head.

"This is your third glass of wine tonight." She hears the concern in his voice and sticks her tongue out at him in jest.

"You know better than anyone I can hold my liquor, Mister Beilschmidt," she replies. "Or did you forget the time I drank you under the table when we went out with friends?" She takes a sip of her wine, eyes never straying from her lover's face.

Ludwig rolls his eyes and smiles. "Gilbert won't let me forget. Neither will Lovino, for that matter."

Emma spots a waiter heading their way and says, "Speaking of which…"

The waiter stops in front of their table and hands over a slip of paper to Ludwig, letting the couple know their food will arrive shortly before he leaves to attend to other customers. Ludwig opens the folded note and reads.

Ciao lovebirds,

Heard that you finished your job. Antonio and Gilbert went over and took care of the rest. Since you two like it when I give you the gory details and I'm in a festive mood thanks to alcohol and Feli's never-ending annoying Christmas singing, here you go. Mr. Jones wasn't too much of a fucker, apparently – Gilbert had to knock him out when he saw Antonio clean up the body but other than that he's still on board with our deal. Not that he has a choice, but that's not the point. Job's done and my boss is pleased with the outcome, so we're all still in his fucking good graces.

You both did well, considering there was no mess at the scene this time, so congratulations on restraining your man, Miss Martens. Your payment should arrive later tonight. Your next job is in two days, come see me tomorrow evening for more information.

Have fun at the Stork Club. If Marilyn Monroe is there tonight take a picture of her and have her sign it for me.

And don't forget to get of this stupid note when you're done with it.

Buon Natale,

L.

Ludwig wordlessly hands over the letter to Emma, who laughs once she finishes reading. She shakes her head as she brings the note to the candle in the middle of the table and burns it.

"He likes to talk when he's drunk, doesn't he," she muses as they both watch the flames lick the remnants of the paper, ashes falling neatly on the white tablecloth. "And who knew he had a thing for Marilyn Monroe?" Ludwig nods and takes a sip of his drink, wrinkling his nose in slight distaste.

"How is it?" Emma teases when she notices the face her lover sports.

"Not as good as the one I had earlier," he frowns, glaring down at the offending drink.

Emma hums, propping her hands under her chin and looking out in thought. "He did have a nice selection of drinks, didn't he? Maybe Mr. Jones is a connoisseur in alcoholic beverages." She pouts when she reaches for her glass, only to find that it is empty. It is then that a waiter arrives with their meals; they thank him, and Emma asks for a full bottle of wine before he ushers out. Ludwig raises his eyebrows at that.

"What," Emma simpers, "Am I not allowed to celebrate a job well done, as well as Christmas Eve? Let a girl have some fun, darling!" she jokes, cutting into her sirloin steak.

"Ever the drama queen," Ludwig sighs, ignoring the snarky don't be such a fuddy-duddy from his lover in favour of biting into his own meal. "How is your dinner?"

"Exquisite as always," she answers, dabbing her mouth with her napkin. "The ritzy Stork Club never fails to dazzle." A comfortable silence follows for a while, each digging into their supper, until Emma breaks it.

"Oh, but he does know how to pick them, doesn't he?" she grins, popping the cork of her bottle and pouring herself another glass.

"Who?" Ludwig asks between bites, shaking his head when Emma offers him wine. "You know I don't like wine."

"Don't knock it 'till you try it," Emma sing-songs, placing the bottle back on the table. "You haven't had this brand yet. And I was talking about Mr. Jones' servant, Toris."

"His plaything?" he says. Emma reaches out to smack his arm playfully, gasping in mock appall.

"Shush, you, we're in public! But yes, I was referring to his domestic. He was lovely, wasn't he? A bit on the nervous side, but very nice and polite. And he was a bit of a looker, too, with those big green eyes of his and that porcelain skin. Such a pretty little thing. I'm jealous," she says, ruffling her curls and twirling a strand of her hair around one of her manicured fingers.

"You're perfectly lovely, sweetheart," Ludwig assures her. Emma blows him a kiss in return, complete with a voiced mwah for effect.

"You charmer, you." She smiles at him and turns back to her steak. "In any case," she continues, "it's a shame he had to go." Ludwig gives her a deadpan look.

"Really, now." Emma's smile turns to a wicked grin.

"Oh, but of course! I mean, with all his looks, no wonder Mr. Jones fell for him. He was almost effeminate in nature. But alas," she finishes, pushing her empty plate away from her, "Mr. Jones decided to get under our skin, and Toris was the one to pay the price. Poor dear," she coos scornfully.

"You're too kind," Ludwig snorts. Emma winks at him.

"Someone here has to be, and it won't be you, with your big burly frame and your intimidating face. Toris would have never let you in their house if it had just been you at the door. Besides, we had to let someone have it, and it wasn't going to be Mr. Jones. Toris was simply at the wrong place, at the wrong time. It was just a most unfortunate accident," she simpers, bright green eyes alight with maliciousness, glass of wine once again in her hand.

"You are a terrifying woman," Ludwig shakes his head in amusement, also finished with his meal. "I'm glad I'm not on your bad side."

"You say I'm terrifying, but you're the one who does all the dirty work," retorts Emma. "I would hate for you to use your brute strength on me. Except," she adds with a quirk or her lips, "in regards to certain affairs."

Ludwig reddens at that and says, "We're in public, dear." Emma tilts her head back elegantly, peals of laughter escaping her.

"No need to chew me out. Oh, you're so fun to tease, sweetheart." She gazes back at her lover then, and Ludwig goes tense, slightly wary at the mischievous glint in her eyes. "But if you want a peek at my new corset tonight, you'll have to show me what those big arms of yours can do," she winks.

A discreet cough to their side catches their attention, and the couple turns their head towards the flustered server waiting to take their orders for dessert. Emma smirks and asks for caramel custard while Ludwig slaps his hands to his face, stoic expression never wavering despite the burning red of his cheeks.

Once the waiter leaves, Emma glances towards her lover and chuckles at his mortified expression.

"One would think you'd have gotten used to my antics by now," she teases. When the first notes of Frankie Carle's Little Jack Frost Get Lost drift from the band in the room, she gasps and gets up, clapping her hands in excitement.

"This song is wonderful! Get up and show me what those stompers of yours can do while we wait for dessert," she exclaims, as Ludwig reluctantly follows her to the floor. He grabs her hand as she leads them in the middle of the crowd, until they're hidden amidst other couples swaying to the music. Ludwig circles her waist with one arm and clasps his other hand with hers before leading her with clumsy steps.

"You know I'm a dead hoofer, darling," he sighs, then smiles, pulling her closer to him. "But for you, I'll try." Emma answers with one of her own dazzling grins.

"Oh, I do love you so, Mr. Beilschmidt."

"And I you, Miss Martens" he replies simply, giving her a kiss on the cheek. Emma wrinkles her nose in amusement before letting go of his hold, cupping Ludwig's face with both her hands and leaning forward.

"If you really do, come and give me a big one with that kisser of yours," she whispers against his lips, teasing. Pink settles over Ludwig's cheeks once again but he inches forward, arms wrapped around her waist, lips catching hers. Emma hums and smiles in the kiss, dainty fingers tousling Ludwig's slicked back hair into disheveled locks.

They part, and Emma's eyes twinkle in the light. As a more upbeat song starts playing, she lets go of her beau's face to take one of his hands in hers, leading him further into the fray of swinging couples and swishing skirts, her feet moving wildly to the rhythm. Ludwig stumbles but tries to follow her steps, and she smiles up at him.

Blue meets green, and in that moment there is only them and Duke Ellington's Cotton Tail playing around them.

"Let's dance."