Quote of the Chapter:
"The decade ahead of my loud, possessive yell was the best one, eh?" - Before you were mine, Carol Ann Duffy
Chapter Fourteen: Lunch (Dates)
"Now isn't this great!" Diane beamed, stretching her long arms around Elizabeth and Mael's shoulders. "Three friends having lunch and enjoying each other's company! God, how long has it been since we've been in a trio, Els?"
Nothing left Elizabeth's mouth, not when she pursed her lips so tensely. Profuse red covered every inch of her face, the tips of her ears turning red-hot from embarrassment, as she sat huddled in a booth with Diane and Mael, Diane acting as the only roadblock between herself and the office newbie. In front of them was the menu of the Boar Hat - a proud crown jewel for the establishment's three best offers: food, booze and top of the line city gossip.
Like most reckless choices, Diane was the one who chose the Boar Hat for today's lunch location. Eagerly, she had pushed Elizabeth and Mael onto the bus, herded them down the street and shoved them into the bar. Not once did she give them room for protest; not once did Diane even consider how Elizabeth felt, dangerously melding her personal life with her work life. Instead Diane had grinned all the way, boasting about how good the food was going to be.
That led to where they were now, crammed in a booth seat and awkwardly making small talk.
Usually, Elizabeth wouldn't dare to take a colleague here. Usually, she wouldn't be so comfortable and forward in what was meant to be a professional setting. Work lunches were to do with work and so Elizabeth always remained professional and uptight. That was the rule. The code. Yet Diane always made her break the simple rules.
"Around two years now," Elizabeth answered quietly, keeping her gaze trained to the table. Faintly she spotted a faded engraving, sharp at the edges and with illegible letters written within it. "Our last trio was with Gowther before he became published."
"Oh yeah!" Diane nodded vigourously, remembering their now distantly-located friend. At the moment Gowther was travelling, promoting the fantasy series he had written as a love letter to his late fiancee, Nadja. When Elizabeth and Diane had been closer with him, he had always spoken about how much Nadja loved fantasy novels - especially ones about knights.
"It must be great to be friends with you guys," Mael piped up from his corner, smiling a little. "It sounds like all your friends become successful writers."
"Well, they do learn from the best," Diane grinned, not at all one to hide her more boastful side. She even struck a pose, holding her head up high as she basked in the glowing success of her friend - the resident employee of the month for six concurrent months. "And by best, I mean Elizabeth."
"I'm not the best..." Elizabeth shook her head, biting her lip. Hot embarrassment was back again, heating her skin.
"Are too," Diane argued in a sing-song tone. That coy grin refused to leave her lips as she placed a hand on Mael's arm. "Would you believe that on her first day Elizabeth here managed to outdo Ludociel? God, you should have seen the look on his face when Hendrickson gave her the double-page spread!"
Ah yes, her biggest splash as a rookie reporter - snatching a double-page spread on the first day. How could anyone forget about that achievement? The same one that Diane always dangled in front of the new office workers like a carrot dangled in front of a mule. Elizabeth's achievements often served as an embellishment to being her friend; Diane loved to show how being friends with Elizabeth translated into almost instantaneous success.
"I can actually imagine it," Mael answered, nodding as a nervous laugh escaped his system. Sheepishly, he scratched at the back of his neck. "My brother had a habit of complaining about Elizabeth and her achievements."
"Ah, so that's why you seem so intimidated by me!" Elizabeth cried out with sudden triumph - glad that she hadn't actually scared Mael herself. However, she swiftly corrected her outburst, chuckling anxiously. "Sorry. I was just trying to figure it out. You were just so much more... reserved than the other newbies."
"It's because he's a die-hard fan," Diane teased, roping Mael into her intense arm link. A hand lands on his shoulder as she drops her voice to a secretive whisper, her amethyst eyes narrowed. "Mael here has a little writer's crush."
"I do not," Mael murmured, shaking his head. Red now crept upon his skin, climbing up his neck and crowning the tips of his ears.
"Do too," Diane retorted, again with the sing-song tone. Smugly, she gestured toward his face. "It's written all over you face."
"Where?"
"Right..." Diane dragged out the word, leaning toward the taller man as she poked him on the cheek. "There. All over both of them!"
Elizabeth couldn't help but giggle with Diane as Mael turned an even more obvious shade of red, a grimace settling on his face. Too many times Elizabeth had been in his place, trying to stifle her blatant embarrassment that Diane always called out. Honestly, Diane's annoying habit was actually quite amusing and endearing when viewed from the spectator's point of view. But as the actual victim - well it was a different perspective entirely.
"I can't believe this..." Mael mumbled, his voice low with what was most likely mortification. Trying to draw attention from his face, he picked up a menu.
"It's ok," Elizabeth assured him, sending a gentle smile his way. In an attempt to break the air of embarrassment, she went back to scanning her menu - despite knowing it by heart - and continued, "We all have writers' crushes. Guess who mine was?"
Mael raised a brow, "Hendrickson?"
"Ew!" Both Elizabeth and Diane shook their heads. Hendrickson had the most prosaic and sparse writing style of everyone in the office, his tone and sentence styles definitely being on the more literal and plain end of the writer's spectrum. For Elizabeth and Diane - two avid fans of fiction - that style of writing often gained a huge thumbs-down - a solid minus five out of ten.
In the office, only two people chose to wrote in the sparse and colourless tone of prosaic writing: Hendrickson and Ludociel. Those two always liked to sprinkle deeper meanings behind plain, bland text. Everyone else? Well, they preferred to go all out, showing off their acquired toolkit of writers' skills and methods that they picked up throughout their various years of study.
"Well that's a solid no," Mael laughed, amused by the shared horror and mortification of the two women. He guessed again, this time keeping their previous reaction in mind. "What about Nerobasta?"
"Nice try but she's too flowery," Elizabeth answered automatically. Ironic as she always liked to make small snide comments about Elizabeth's floral attire.
For a good minute they sat there in silence, Mael thinking, and Elizabeth and Diane sharing knowing glances. Writers' crushes were often hard to guess - especially in a building with a writing department as big as theirs. Plus, Mael didn't know many of them people in the building, only having worked for two out of five working days. That meant he didn't know about the Saturday crew or the journalists who dropped in from abroad. He didn't really know anyone.
"I don't know then," Mael finally huffed, sighing with exasperation. Defeat had overcome him. Nevertheless, he still smiled as he said, "It's definitely not my brother. He's the complete opposite of your writing style."
"Well-observed Watson," Diane chimed in, nodding.
"So who is your writer's crush?" Mael asked, seeming to be genuinely interested in this topic. A good thing - Elizabeth noted - that meant he was interested in the office norms.
"Derieri," Elizabeth answered confidently, a simple smile on her lips.
"Deri... eri?" Mael echoed, his brow crinkling with visible confusion. Rather obviously, Mael didn't know about Derieri and the rest of the Saturday crew yet. She didn't work until Fridays, working over the weekend period in order to crunch in the extra pay for fewer hours. But god was her writing amazing! Whenever she snatched an article, Elizabeth was always an avid reader.
"She's a very blunt writer," Diane informed, already sinking into her role as the workplace socialite. If you wanted to know about anyone, Diane was your person. She knew just about everyone - even the cleaners who came in after hours. "Quite colourful and vivid in her language, yet straight to the point. You read her work and it feels like a punch to the face."
"I think her style is very refreshing," Elizabeth defended, pouting.
"Yeah, of course you do," Diane tutted, shaking her head. Rolling her eyes, she jabbed Mael on the arm as she said in an overly dramatic tone. "You just LOVE Derieri. Is it because of your blondie fetish?"
"Diane I do not- "
"You sure as hell do," Diane quipped, cutting her off. Ever since Elizabeth revealed her past crushes, Diane had always dangled this before her. Elizabeth's 'blondie fetish' was a thing that frequently came up in their banter matches. Grinning, Diane then turned to Mael, gesturing to her now mortified best friend. "Elizabeth here has a thing for blondes."
"I do not," Elizabeth pouted, folding her arms across her chest.
"Do too," Diane chimed in return, smiling innocently.
"All because I said no to Allioni does not mean- "
"Totally does," Diane cut off.
A bell chimed. The door swung open. All eyes turned to the most recent intruder, fixing onto the slim and elegant gait of a man with auburn hair. Tucked under his arm was a laptop, his large and puffy jacket being an indicator to his dislike of the milder autumn weather. Effortlessly, he made his way to the counter, snagged an empty bar stool and booted up his laptop. Not once did he regard anyone else in the building.
Nevertheless, without even seeing his face, Elizabeth knew who the man was. After knowing him for so many years, after being invited into his home time and time again, how could she not recognise him? Especially when his partner - intent on making him jealous - just so happened to choose the Boar Hat for their lunch date with the awkward yet handsome Mael.
The coincidences were simply too many to ignore.
As if on cue, Diane slipped out from between them, grabbing her purse as she went, "Excuse me, guys."
Both Mael and Elizabeth only watched as she hurried toward the new intruder, twirling a pigtail with one hand as she toted her purse with the other. Not even five minutes after he had arrived and Elizabeth already knew what was going to happen next.
"And there is Diane's true motive for coming here," Elizabeth sighed, gesturing toward the now talking Diane and King. She then turned to Mael, sending him a spry grin. "And you, dear sir, are the envy bait."
"Well, at least I'm good for something," Mael chuckled halfheartedly, his own small smile joining hers. "These days it's hard to keep track of what I'm good at."
"Well, you definitely make good envy bait," Elizabeth admitted, feeling a tad bit sorry for the newbie. No doubt it was uncomfortable to be in his position - a literal fish out of water - thrust into a new world of fast-flowing work and sharp-tongued journalists.
Silence settled and soon they were approached by a waiter who easily took their orders - winking at Elizabeth as they disappeared behind the counter. No doubt this lunch thing would come up as a subject of conversation next movie night. With her friends - and how easily they find out everything - Elizabeth would be lucky to have a day go by before she's grilled about Mael.
The drinks and food arrived and Diane was still talking to King, scrolling through pictures of her phone - no doubt sneaky snaps of Mael from the bus ride here. Honestly, Elizabeth wouldn't put it beneath her friend to use such underhanded tactics. She was mad at King. Supposedly, he had omitted quite a lot about himself. Too much. Now Diane was enacting her revenge.
"Elizabeth," Mael suddenly asked, breaking the comfortable silence between them. "Is what Diane said true?"
"What about the writer's crush thing?" Elizabeth hummed, raising a brow as she took a generous sip of her mocktail. Fruity coolness hit the back of her throat, oddly refreshing despite the chilly weather. Only the Boar Hat could have made such a concoction.
"Yeah," Mael nodded. She didn't miss the tell-tale signs of bashfulness on his face, climbing up the side of neck. "Does everyone have one?"
"Yep," Elizabeth answered honestly, knowing it to be true. Multiple people in the office confessed their writers' crushes. Most were surprising. "Even your stone-cold brother."
"I wouldn't be surprised if he likes Nerobasta's style," Mael stated, laughing a little.
"I'd say more than that," Elizabeth murmured under her breath.
"Hmm?" Mael hummed.
"Nothing," Elizabeth corrected, her own ears tipping with pink. Fishing herself a viable excuse, she spurted out the first thing that came to her mind. "I was just talking about my roommate."
"Meliodas, right?" Mael responded, raising a brow. "Is he your boyfriend o- "
"Oh no definitely roommates," Elizabeth answered quickly - very quickly. More pink splashed onto her face. More verbal diarrhea spurted from her lips. "We've known each other for ten years so it's really complicated. But in short we're friends."
"Must be nice," Mael stated, seeming somewhat quiet as he stirred the half-melted ice in his drink.
"Yeah," Elizabeth agreed, her mocktail suddenly feeling bitter. It should be nice. So why didn't she always think it was?