(1312-07-24) Ladies Who Lunch
Summary: Justine and Fleur meet for lunch at the Golden Harbour, and are joined by Jehan-Pascal. Conversation includes marriage, babies and lavender. Rather a little too much lavender!
RL Date: Fri Jul 24, 2020
Related: Lavender Fields
jehan-pascal justine fleur 

The Golden Harbor

Situated close to the Opera and upon the famous wine cellars below, the Golden Harbour Restaurant offers the same refinement it expects in turn from its clientele. The name has influenced the choice of interior, where walls have been painted in sea green with golden ornaments, and one wall features the outline of this city's harbor in gilded painting that will catch the warm light of candles and oil lamps. Candelabras made of brass show the likenesses of mermaids and seasnakes. Tables and seating are of dark mahogany, cushions and upholstery done in dark green velvet, heavy drapes of similar color set into the ceiling that can be drawn to allow a certain privacy when such is wished for. Staff is attentive and discreet, and up to the standards of high nobility in their quality of service. They are clad in the unique livery of the place, sea green gowns, chemises and trousers, always tidy and well kept.

Meals served here are mostly local seafood dishes prepared from sophisticated recipes with inspired seasoning. Finest wines are available, both red and white, a supply never ceasing as they have the wine cellars below, to acquire even the most exquisite and costly vintages if requested. High windows offer a view over the city, especially where it slopes down to the harbor, with masts and sails of ships moored there visible in the distance.

This room has places, see +help places for more information.


Sometimes a lady is required to leave a place she has grown fond off. There are duties, epecially for someone who is married to the heir to Comté de Brioude. And so, with a certain regret clouding her otherwise rather sunny temper, Justine had left the city of Marsilikos at the beginning of June. Six weeks have passed since then, and here she is again, returned to the beautiful climate and setting of the Eisandine capital. Upon arriving, she had heard that one of her cousins is currently residing in the city, so a letter had been written and sent to the Valais residence, suggesting a meeting at a fashionable local eating place, the Golden Harbor.

Justine is attired in what can be called casual courtly elegance. She is wearing the white, red and green of House Chalasse, subtly included in the design of her gown. Blonde hair has been done up in a fashionable manner, and she beams and seems to be in the best of spirits. There is something about her, a certain air that speaks of her Namarrese heritage. She is seated at one of the tables by a window that offers a nice view over the city and the harbor in the distance.

Fleur has likewise, after a recent sojourn to Châteauredon the seat of the Valais family into which she has wed, recently found her way back to Marsilkos. She looks refreshed and at ease as she's guided through the tables by one of the restaurant's servants to the one where Justine awaits. Her gown reflects the mood of the day; a summery and light creation of pale blue silk with golden thread embroidery that accents the sweetheart neckline and cuffs of sleeves that finish below the elbow in a froth of pale lace. "Justine!" she softly exclaims. "How long has it been?" Her delight at greeting her cousin is absolute, and she reaches for her hands with both of her own, a touch of gold to co-ordinate with her gown glittering at the tips of her nails. The servant pulls a chair for Fleur to sit upon, but she forswears that for now in favour of an intimate greeting.

When her relative arrives, Justine moves to her feet with one elegant sweeping motion, which causes the faintest rustle in her skirts. "Fleur," she replies, taking the offered hands with her own and squeezing them lightly. Her voice has that warm timbre, and the pleasure that shows in her blue eyes at seeing her cousin is veiled for a moment by her lashes. "Ages. At least that's what it feels like. How delightful to see you." After touching her lips to the corner of Fleur's at one side, then to the other, she lets go and resumes her seat, while Fleur is assisted with her own. "You look delightful," the young lady comments, her gaze slipping for a moment to the golden sheen gracing the fingernails of her cousin. Her lips curl in amusement. "Your children are well?", Justine inquires then, regarding Fleur across the table.

"Bastien is monster, though a wonderful one," Fleur smiles as she settles into her seat. "He has his father's charm, so gets away with rather more than he ought. And Giselle, little Giselle, a heartbreaker if ever I saw one." There's the fierce pride of a mother in her voice as she speaks, a pride that's been forged in the past two years as she's watched them blossom in the wake of their father's death. "They are to remain with their grandparents at Châteauredon this summer," she goes on to say, "and though I'll miss them terribly, they need stability in their lives right now." She smiles at the server that arrives to place a basket of warm honey rolls nestled in linen on the table between them, and she helps herself to one and breaks in half on her plate. "But what of you? Have you settled into your marriage and are you finding Evariste to your liking?"

<FS3> Justine rolls Composure: Good Success. (3 8 7 5 4 6 1 5 3)

"I'm glad to hear your children are thriving," Justine replies gently. There is the faintest flicker in her eyes, as she considers Fleur. "Growing up without a father may not be that easy," an afterthought, murmured with her eyes downcast. "But… as you say. Family can make up for so many things." Her sparkle may have slightly dimmed, for the moment, but the blonde lady continues, with a bit of mischief returning to her expression and attitude, "So… now you're here, on your own in Marsilikos? For what purpose? I shall have to needle you later about that." As for now, Fleur has posed a question that elicits a twitch of her brows and subtle diminishing of her smile. "I entered marriage with expectations that were obviously hard to meet," she allows after a moment of pondering what to reply. "Settling into that… well, I suppose I have. Just with the beginning of the new year, I visited Marsilikos for the first time. To make sure that nothing in my disposition doesn't prevent me from getting with child. Evariste has remained in Brioude all the while, despite his initial plans of joining me here. Then… Six weeks ago I was asked to return." Her hands rest on the table before her, and Justine watches them as she moves her fingers in a playful wave. "And now I am back, to visit the grand temple of Eisheth and consult with the healers, as Evariste and I are in hope that… well, that our efforts have borne fruit."

<FS3> Fleur rolls Empathy: Great Success. (2 1 6 1 2 3 8 8 3 3 7 7 3 1 7 2 1 4)

Justine speaks of her marriage and her hopes, and Fleur listens. She doesn't just listen, she feels the unspoken emotions that lie hidden beneath her words. "Were they so hard to meet?" She asks gently. "Evariste always struck me as being of impeccable manners and courtly grace, and handsome too." She pauses, her eyes ever vigilant where they rest on her cousin, and she breaks a piece of the honey roll from the edge of the roll, and pops it into her mouth. A chew. A swallow. "But it sounds," she says, a smile blossoming on her lips, "that you are hopeful for good news, and things will feel different, when Naamah has blessed you. How pleased Evariste will be. How proud the two of you. Sometimes Naamah likes to take her time with these things, but there's no reason not to expect the most wonderful of news." Gilded fingers break another piece of bread from her roll, and she lowers her tone to one of a more confidential nature that won't carry beyond their table. "But the fun is in the trying, is it not?"

"Perhaps, not so, had the man in question not been Evariste," comes Justine's reply, and her voice adopts a soft velvety tone as she lowers the volume a little. "He is handsome, yes, by Elua, but apart from the duty, I fear, there is not much that binds us. And… fun… hmm. It is not what comes to mind when I think of the time shared with him in the bedroom. This time, though. He put in an effort. More than once, to make sure that the heir has an heir soon." Her shoulders lift in a light shrug. "I embrace the diversion of being back in Marsilikos, though. I find it to be a most pleasant place to be."

<FS3> Fleur rolls Empathy: Amazing Success. (4 4 5 7 2 8 8 3 6 7 2 3 8 7 3 3 6 5)

Fleur's marriage to Louis was one born of love, and as she fully comprehends what Justine's telling her, tears glitter in the corners of her eyes. "Oh Justine," she whispers, completely crestfallen. "My heart hurts for you." And it does. She blinks fiercely, her lashes collecting the tears before they can fall, and she draws a deep breath. "Naamah is kind," she says, reaching a hand across the table with her fingers curled upwards in a gesture of invitation. "I shall pray at Her temple that She will have seen fit to bless you, if only that you will be free to find a lover and the true affection that you deserve." Her hand still outstretched for the touch of Justine's, she forces a cheerful smile to her lips. "Marsilikos is indeed a diversion, and we shall enjoy that diversion together, for as long as we have."

"Oh…" Justine pulls her brows together, as she notices Fleur's reaction. "Your heart need not hurt for me. It was an arrangement, with benefit for the Houses of Chalasse and that of your father, my uncle. I never expected happiness. Just… well, perhaps a bit more fulfillment in regards to what occurs in the bedroom. Do not worry. My heart doesn't hurt. It is my body, in a way. And my ego." She smiles, and it is a warm expression that washes over her face. "I have taken lovers, in the limited capacity that I can manage at the moment. But love… well… I suppose I may find it one day, or I may not. Elua only knows." Her gaze finds the hand of Fleur and she reaches her own over, accepting the offered touch. "For now, concerning Evariste, I would be so relieved to see his seed taking hold, so that we at least have that one primal duty seen to," she adds with a soft sigh. "Elua tells us to love as we will, and my husband prefers the company of men. It is what has complicated this matter of getting with child, and also explains his disinterest in getting more involved with me."

"Egos can be fragile things," Fleur notes with a sigh, and she gives Justine's fingers a gentle squeeze of sympathy. "At least you know the fault, if fault there is, lies not within yourself. A platter of seafood arrives to the table, freshly pulled that morning from the shining seas that surround Marsilikos. Glistening lobster tails nestled amongst unpeeled prawns, mussels and scallops in shells, all swimming in juices combined with some hot, buttery garlic. Fleur closes her eyes and inhales, and reclaims her hand to make space for the platter. "Justine," she says quietly. "When your belly is swollen with child, I feel certain that Evariste will not be able to help but feel closer to you. He'll be be the proudest of papas and you'll have nothing to prove." A piece of her honey roll is picked up, and she dunks it into the buttery juices. "So you will stay how long here in Marsilikos? Until you know one way or the other whether you've been blessed?"

"They can," Justine agrees with a slight roll of her eyes. "Anyway… I am looking forward to see one of my tasks fulfilled." A soft chuckle ripples from her lips as she tilts her head just so, "Evariste might become a proud and loving father, who knows? Only time will tell, and of course, my luck that this time, in these past six weeks the Companions have looked favorably upon us. And blessed us." She exhales softly and a delighted glint appears in her eyes as she considers the delicacies that have been brought. "I'm planning to stay a few months at least, no less than three or four. Because… should I be with child, I am to seek out the best help there is possible. At the temple of Eisheth, of course." She reaches for a fork and steals a mussel from the platter, then to free it of its shell upon her plate with additional help of a knife. "What about you, Fleur? How long are you to stay, now that your children at Chateauredon?", the blonde lady asks, as she looks towards Fleur.

Fleur transfers the bread to her mouth, her other hand cupped beneath to catch the inevitable drips that her dunking will have ensured. "Mm…" she smiles, savouring the taste of the garlicky butter before answering Justine. "It depends on a few things," she muses. "My father-in-law wishes me to pursue some business matters for him here in Marsilikos, and I have a list of names that I must call upon. I imagine a month or two at the very least, but possibly longer. I was hoping that Chimene would still be here when I returned, but duty has called her away." A frown collects on her brow, and she picks up her fork and spears a lobster tails on its tines. "But I have you for company now, and Gal— when he's around." And the mention of his name is enough to deepen that frown.

Don't you hate it when a meal runs long? Jehan-Pascal, having come here for a meeting over breakfast, finds himself still here at the lunchtide hour and then some. Dressed in the fine duns and greys that are his most recent fancy for his wardrobe, his doublet with sleeves that trail somewhat from the elbow in a loose, affable and quite fashionable manner— it's not quite 'court,' but it's all very nice, a little on the cutting edge of the fashion, it might send titters at a formal event, but a high-powered business breakfast with some others of the nobility is just the place to be seen wearing it— perhaps next spring the court will see such a style come in favor.

Once all that was needed to be said had been said and Jehan-Pascal has bid farewell to those he'd met here some number of hours ago, all that elbow-rubbing has come home to roost at the pit of his stomach, and it twists uneasily, ready for lunch. A swallow of his remaining wine will sate it, for now, and, casting a glance about the place, he spies a familiar head of blonde hair… make that two. He hands off the glass to the young man who's come to clear the table with a quiet word or two of gratitude— then is going to make a somewhat circuitous tour of the lunch crowd, angling his course with an intent to make a pass of Fleur and Justine's table for a hello.

That mussle is freed from the shell and then cruelly speared upon a fork, as Justine listens to Fleur's reply. "Business," she repeats with a soft sigh. "That doesn't sound like much fun, does it?" A mischievous grin appears on her features, after enjoying that mussle. "I will gladly offer my company to alleviate any of that dull business you have to deal with, oh Naamah, this is delicious!" Catching motion from the corner of her eye, Justine turns her head and looks towards Jehan-Pascal, whom she has seen at least at one courtly occasion. But knowing him as little as she does, she abstains from calling out a greeting, until they can be sure that he will indeed pass their table.

"Business. Yes," Fleur returns with a smile. "I can understand your confusion, dear cousin, but when I lost Louis I found there was this void in my life." She sections off a little of the lobster tail and pushes it through the garlic juices that have puddled beneath. "Perhaps Gregorien is wiser than I, for it was at his insistence that I began to take more of an interest in the running of the comte that Bastien will one day inherit. I'll be honest," she frowns, "I was a little adverse at first. It was with my own father's encouragement that I bent to the task, and whilst it hasn't lessened the ache anymore, it has given me focus." About to lift her fork to her mouth, she glances where Justine looks and sees Jehan-Pascal's familiar face. A smile replaces that frown. "Look who it is," she murmurs to Justine, and as Jehan-Pascal draws nearer, she lifts her chin along with her voice. "Lord Jehan-Pascal. A lovely day, is it not?"

<FS3> Jehan-Pascal rolls Politics: Good Success. (4 2 4 7 7 4 1 4 8 4)

Jehan-Pascal arrives tableside, encouranged by the glances ast his way, just in time to meet Fleur's newborn smile. "Well, if it wasn't before, it certainly is now, Lady Fleur," he dips into a short bow, "Lady Justine," he angles his bow a little further and to the side to include her, as well, before he rightens himself. "Lady Fleur, my apologies, I didn't know you had returned to Marsilikos, or I would have sent my well-wishes to your residence earlier." He's more familiar with her, of course, given their… well, short and ill-fated spot of courtship. Of Justine, he knows enough to not bring up certain topics over lunch, at least, but little more than that, so, to broaden the conversation and not leave her hanging by the wayside of a conversation with Fleur, he looks over their luncheon and, "It looks like the chef is on finest form today, doesn't it?"

<FS3> Justine rolls Politics: Success. (3 2 6 2 5 8 4 6)

"Lord Jehan-Pascal," Justine offers the same a beaming smile. "The food is spectacular." Her hand lifts in an inviting gesture, encouraging to sit down at their table, if he so wishes - and if Fleur doesn't object. "And more than enough for three, I daresay," is added with a quick glance towards her cousin as if to ask permission, belatedly. "As for you and Chimene… you were always meant to accomplish great things. I am yet to see, if my uncle's faith in my own skills will prove to be founded… Ah… Lord Jehan-Pascal. I couldn't help but glimpse you earlier at your table. You were probably dealing with some business of sorts?" The question might be considered impertinent, but it is brought forth with a most charming smile.

Fleur certainly doesn't object, and she beckons a server over and requests another table setting to be laid. "Certainly more than enough," she brightly confirms, "and if not, well, we'll have another course brought." The sapphires in the ring she wears sparkle as she finally lifts that endearing forkful of lobster to her mouth, and she savours the nugget of flesh before speaking again. "That's kind of you to say so, Justine, though I'm not certain I'll ever achieve great things, at least not on the scale of Chimene. As to your accomplishments, my father is rarely wrong in these matters." Another piece of the lobster is smooshed through the garlic, and her head tilts Jehan-Pascal's way. "I little knew myself when I would return, my lord. I came by way of the village or Aurel, a detour of a day or two. You will know of it, of course, being part of your comte, a more picturesque village I cannot imagine. My trip to Marsilikos was timed to coincide with their Festival de la Lavande. Is that something you've had the joy of attending yourself?"

Jehan-Pascal is either actully surprised by the invitation to be seated or at least is good enough to appear that way— "Oh— are you certain? I wouldn't wish to be a disruption," but Fleur is giving him such a kind go-ahead and he'll settle down. "It's very good of you. Nothing like a long breakfast to work up an appetite for lunch," he laughs brightly at the paradox in play. "The mussels look very well indeed— may I?" he asks, once a fork appears at hand, and a spoon, so that he may not pluck a morsel with his bare hands. "Oh, yes," he agrees with Justine's observation of his breakfasting crew. "It's a little late in the summer this year, but we already have some quite fine numbers on our waterways-traffick with our new Changement in place… no sense in keeping that a secret when you know people are already looking ahead to next season and securing traffick to the sea before winter," he grins.

Then Fleur is putting him in mind of his boyhood— look, he just sort of gapes at the mention of the Festival de la Lavande. "Oh, my goodness, not in years," he shakes his head with a smile. "I should really make my way up there more often," he upbraids himself gently at the table. "Did you detour with especial intent to make the Festival, or was it by happenstance you found yourself there?"

"There isn't anything wrong with working up one's appetite," Justine remarks with a pointedly innocent smile as she nods towards Jehan-Pascal. "I, for my part, am keeping myself out currently, of any matters of trade and politics. But that doesn't mean that I don't find financial entanglements intriguing, now and then." She turns her attention towards the food, flashing Fleur a brief smile when the cousin mentions a village, Justine has never heard of before. "This sounds delightful. Pray tell, what do the villagers do to celebrate the festival?"

"It was an especial detour," Fleur smiles to Jehan-Pascal. "Louis took me to the festival the summer we wed, and I needed to see it again." Fleur suddenly needs a mouthful of wine, perhaps because the memories she's invoking might otherwise make her maudlin. She raises her glass to her lips and drinks deeply of the chilled and crisp white. Steadied, her eyes meet with Justine's as she lowers her glass to the table. "Oh you would adore Aurel," she tells her cousin. "In July and August the fields are a sea of purple wherever you look, and the festival is a holiday for the citizens where they come together to crown their 'Reine de Lavande'. It's a charming custom, and they choose their queen and her court from amongst the village children. Wearing lavender crowns and processioning beneath garlands of the same, they walk the streets and lay offerings at Anael's shrine to ask for his blessing on their harvest. Actually," and she laughs a little embarrassed, "I spent far too much at the festival, and the walls of the Valais residence here in Marsilikos groan with the weight of all things lavender."

Jehan-Pascal gives Justine a flutter of a smile with a dip of his head that might befit one of the White Roses when she lands that pointedly innocent smile at the end of her comment, but then he's looking up to her with interest as she lays out her approach to governance. "Yes," he goes along with her, "No small number of people have encouraged me to leave the finer details of these proceedings to overseers and hands, but…" he shakes his head, "I don't know, I feel like nothing in particular might be so high-stakes, but, put it all together, and you're crafting a future for the people who have put their trust in you to do so," he gets a little wistfully philosophical over it, and, fortunately, some helpful person comes by to pour his wine glass full in time for him to drink along with Fleur, keeping a quiet moment of reverence for her desideratus. Then, leaning back, he can smile as she brings up all those memories of the festival— he can see it on the backs of half-drooped lids, and feel the stringent effluorescence at the back of his nose and top of his throat. He likes lavender, well enough, in moderation, but once the scent is everywhere it tends to give him a headache. Not that he would say that aloud of one of his allieged villages' key harvests, but, phew. "I'm glad it was a diverting holiday for you, Lady Fleur. And that you made it through the mountains safely," he adds, lifting both brows and taking another drink of the wine. "It really is a pity the going is so rough. Travelling aside the Durance tributary between our counties is a pleasant journey, certainly, but so roundabout we may almost as well stay in Marsilikos between legs of the journey."

Justine does not linger on that shy flutter of a smile, but Jehan-Pascal earns a look and a smile in turn for his display. She too has secured a glass of white wine for herself, to lift, when Fleur lifts her own in a toast. "I shall make sure then to pay Aurel a visit, sometime," the blonde lady declares. "I daresay, the picture you paint of the festival sounds picturesque indeed. I for my part do enjoy lavender, the smell of it, and in particular, honey from bees that bustle in these fields. The scent carries over most subtly to enrich the taste. Which… reminds me. I need to replenish my supplies of lavender honey."

"Ah yes. The mountains." A moue purses Fleur's lips. "I'd agree that the road is a little off-putting when travelling by carriage, but we took it slowly. The scenery was spectacular however, and made up for much of the discomfort as we climbed to the pass. A journey perhaps better suited to being made on horseback." There's still a wealth of food to be eaten, and so she ladles a few of the mussels and more of the sauce to her plate, listening to the conversation and tilting her head at the mention of honey. "I have at least a dozen pots of lavender blossom honey from Aurel and I'll have some sent to the Chalasse residence, along with some tablets of soap. The soap is divine." Spoon and fork in hand, she wheedles a mussel from its shell. "But Jehan-Pascal," she pauses in her ministrations to her food and shifts her attention back to man on her left. "I am so pleased to have found you here today, for it was my intention to call on you to offer my congratulations on your nuptials, and also convey an enquiry on behalf of my father-in-law."

"I've made it on horseback," Jehan-Pascal answers Fleur's supposition, taking a mussel or two for his own plate, the meanwhile. "I think I would prefer a carriage… the constant feeling as though your mount is about to lose its footing going headlong into a ravine… well, I think it took a year off of my life, the last time," he laughs, undercutting the dire nature of the words with the soft sound while he takes up a mussel shell and begins to extract the meat with the little two-pronger. "Oh, yes, the lavender soap, that's… a wonderful way to enjoy a bath," he agrees, then, when Fleur names him with an addendum, he returns her his eyes. "Oh— that's so sweet of you, Lady Fleur," to whom, now that he thinks of it, the Lady Favourite presents some number of resemblances. Huh. Hopefully that's not awkward. "You're free to call anytime, of course. The Lady Favourite and I are established now in the Residence," despite his general avoidance of living there during his bachelor years. "And it's good of the Comte to enquire; how is he faring?" he returns the favor, if rather more directly.

"Lavender soap. Of course." The observation comes from Justine, obviously also prone to additiction to regular baths as the fresh flowery scent that surrounds her betrays. The words are uttered in a soft sigh of longing, and the blonde lady, Courcel by birth and Chalasse by marriage, reaches for another mussel, now disregarding the rules of elegant manners as she breaks the shell apart with her fingers and reaches for the hidden but oh so tasty heart that is hiding there. "Such as I will use, after this lunch," she resumes, after bringing the mussel to her lips and savouring it. A swig of white wine to wash it all down, and oh how the more radiant this Namarrese lady looks, after this sensual treat to her taste buds.

"With how much soap I have already gifted upon my friends," Fleur laughs with a wink to her cousin, "the whole city will soon reek of it." She finds it amusing, Jehan-Pascal might not, and it's likely that he may well wish to avoid the temple baths for the next week or so; it being the recipient of a very generous amount of said soap. She does love Naamah so. "Mm." she swallows another carefully pricked out mussel. "That I shall do. I hope Lady Favourite is finding her feet in the city? Perhaps she might like to join Justine and myself for an afternoon of shopping one day next week? Courtly Couture had a shipment of silks from Ephesium, and even without Isabelle's hand at the helm, their creations are sublime." Another morsel of food in the form of a piece of the honey roll dipped in the liquor finds its way to her mouth before she addresses the matter of her father-in-law. "He is well enough, remaining hale and hearty, though looking to the future of the comte and where he would like it to be on Bastien's coming of age." Her demeanour turns more serious, and she reaches for her wine. "It is with that in mind, Jehan-Pascal, that I'll be coming to speak with you on."

Jehan-Pascal will certainly take it under advisement, though, if there's any cure for a lavenderoverdose headache, it's the notion that a village in his care is so provided for by its supply. "I think so!" re: Favourite, "But I think she could find her footing even on the steepest mountain path," he draws the threads of the conversation together in said metaphor. "It's good of you to invite her, I'll make the invitation for you," he pledges, though, with a little wistfulness. "I haven't been to Courtly Couture since Isa left its management, myself. But Fav possibly won't be touched so much by the sentimentality of the place, and, no doubt, now that she has been in Marsilikos a while, she will have some ideas about how she wants her wardrobe to adapt to the fashions and practicalities of the city." But then the conversation is turning more serious, "Oh, yes? That's some ways ahead, isn't it? Still, it never hurts to take a long view. We'll speak in more depth, yes," he agrees with a smile.

Ah. Someone mentioned depth, and this may not be something Justine is seeking on this wonderful early afternoon. She finishes her small meal of mussels, and breathes the word, delighted, but in a manner that leaves it open where her train of thought is taking her. Mussels or muscles? Who can tell? At least, Justine has found her appetite whetted in some regard, and so, after wiping her fingers with a handkerchief, she looks from Fleur to Jehan-Pascal with the thought of an apology forming at the back of her mind. "Fashion can be a delightful distraction," she remarks instead. "So… yes. A visit to Courtly Couture sounds like a lovely idea. Even if there is no pressing circumstance for me yet, to shop for new dresses, I would be most wroth at you if you wouldn't take me along." A charming smile curves her lips and she chuckles, easily pulling the conversation back into more easy terrain. After all, any conversation of more depth may have to be conducted elsewhere.

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