Cafe Fina, Friday afternoon
Jude had Plans. Unfortunately, his Plans required a backer. And in this case, the backer would have to be the manager of the fanciest restaurant in town - territory with which Jude had but a passing familiarity.
So rather nervously and with metaphorical cap in hand, Jude entered into that imposing edifice.
In other words, he had to see a candelabra about a chicken.
Lumiere was in something of a tizzy today, herding forks and spoons and weasels and pepper shakers this way and that. After the sauerkraut fiasco last week, he has decided rather suddenly and rather firmly that there was to be no more slipping up to be done in his cafe.
He was going to achieve this, of course, by stuffing the weasels into tiny tuxedos so that they looked like they hadn't simply crawled out of a batcave and instead looked as though they belonged there and were all functional members of the Fina staff.
That was the easy part. The difficult part would be teaching them all how to carry several plates at a time to the tables of the guests.
So, naturally, Lumiere was rather thrilled to see someone step into Fina as he and two forks attempted to fasten on one particularly squirmy weasel's cummerbund.
"Why, 'allo there! Welcome to Cafe Fina! 'Ow might I be of service today?"
Jude blinked at the chaos he seemed to have been thrust into. "Uh . . . hi? I, um, kinda have this thing. Tonight. And I want it to be, like, really special, 'cause it's me and my girlfriend's four-month anniversary and she's, like, totally awesome and really deserves something special and . . ." Jude tried to find his point again. "I, um, need help. Sir."
Lumiere was all over that like a ... cursed candelabra all over a reservation request. "Special? Special ees what we do here! Did you 'ave anything particular in mind?" Ignore the forks flailing about in the background. Those weasels will only attack their faces until they get bored, really.
"Well . . . okay, so I had this idea?" Jude started to blush as he explained it. "We, uh, we went star-gazing this one night on the beach and we, um, didn't see many stars. Y'know. So I kinda wanted to do something there. Again. But . . . specialer."
Lumiere thought this over for a moment. "Specailair? How?" He couldn't quite imagine stuffing the weasels into little star costumes, and was rather hoping that the boy had a better idea.
Jude rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed at his next request. "I was thinking . . . like . . . full-on, hardcore fancy dinner with all the napkins and the three different forks and everything, but, uh, on the beach." This last part was said in a rush.
Lumiere was just about to point out that he wasn't sure he was willing to pay ALL of the napkins just for one evening, but the blurted out 'on the beach' part totally negated any and all reservations he had about making this reservation.
It was romantic.
Lumiere was a sucker for romance.
"My boy," he said, clapping Jude on the back with one extinguished candlehand, "It would be our pleasure to make your dinner as romantic as you need - under 'ze stars, soft music, some candlelight," that last part might have been accompanied by a bit of an eyebrow waggle. "You name 'eet!"
"Oof." Jude was a little afraid of the candlehands, but he perked right up. "Really? You mean it?"
"But of course!" Lumiere made a grandiose bow and grinned some more. "'Zis is what we are for! Pick a spot on 'ze beach and a time, and we'll provide the rest!" A fork might have done a little bit of kickdancing in the background. No particular reason why, really.
Jude beamed. "Awesome! Okay, uh, I was thinking about 7:30ish, and there's a spot about five minutes from the path towards the woods . . ." He blushed again thinking about it. "You, uh, can't really see it from the rest of the beach."
Oh, no, that wasn't a very sly grin that Lumiere was giving Jude. Not in the least. Honest.
"We'll find 'ze spot and have 'eet set up for you before you even get there, if you'd like." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "So, a table on the beach... or a blanket on 'ze sand?"
Jude blushed even brighter. "Um, maybe a table? Better for eating. But, um, I'll bring a blanket just in case." More blushing.
[[Preplayed over email with sexycandlepants, no interaction, OOC is love.]]
So rather nervously and with metaphorical cap in hand, Jude entered into that imposing edifice.
In other words, he had to see a candelabra about a chicken.
Lumiere was in something of a tizzy today, herding forks and spoons and weasels and pepper shakers this way and that. After the sauerkraut fiasco last week, he has decided rather suddenly and rather firmly that there was to be no more slipping up to be done in his cafe.
He was going to achieve this, of course, by stuffing the weasels into tiny tuxedos so that they looked like they hadn't simply crawled out of a batcave and instead looked as though they belonged there and were all functional members of the Fina staff.
That was the easy part. The difficult part would be teaching them all how to carry several plates at a time to the tables of the guests.
So, naturally, Lumiere was rather thrilled to see someone step into Fina as he and two forks attempted to fasten on one particularly squirmy weasel's cummerbund.
"Why, 'allo there! Welcome to Cafe Fina! 'Ow might I be of service today?"
Jude blinked at the chaos he seemed to have been thrust into. "Uh . . . hi? I, um, kinda have this thing. Tonight. And I want it to be, like, really special, 'cause it's me and my girlfriend's four-month anniversary and she's, like, totally awesome and really deserves something special and . . ." Jude tried to find his point again. "I, um, need help. Sir."
Lumiere was all over that like a ... cursed candelabra all over a reservation request. "Special? Special ees what we do here! Did you 'ave anything particular in mind?" Ignore the forks flailing about in the background. Those weasels will only attack their faces until they get bored, really.
"Well . . . okay, so I had this idea?" Jude started to blush as he explained it. "We, uh, we went star-gazing this one night on the beach and we, um, didn't see many stars. Y'know. So I kinda wanted to do something there. Again. But . . . specialer."
Lumiere thought this over for a moment. "Specailair? How?" He couldn't quite imagine stuffing the weasels into little star costumes, and was rather hoping that the boy had a better idea.
Jude rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed at his next request. "I was thinking . . . like . . . full-on, hardcore fancy dinner with all the napkins and the three different forks and everything, but, uh, on the beach." This last part was said in a rush.
Lumiere was just about to point out that he wasn't sure he was willing to pay ALL of the napkins just for one evening, but the blurted out 'on the beach' part totally negated any and all reservations he had about making this reservation.
It was romantic.
Lumiere was a sucker for romance.
"My boy," he said, clapping Jude on the back with one extinguished candlehand, "It would be our pleasure to make your dinner as romantic as you need - under 'ze stars, soft music, some candlelight," that last part might have been accompanied by a bit of an eyebrow waggle. "You name 'eet!"
"Oof." Jude was a little afraid of the candlehands, but he perked right up. "Really? You mean it?"
"But of course!" Lumiere made a grandiose bow and grinned some more. "'Zis is what we are for! Pick a spot on 'ze beach and a time, and we'll provide the rest!" A fork might have done a little bit of kickdancing in the background. No particular reason why, really.
Jude beamed. "Awesome! Okay, uh, I was thinking about 7:30ish, and there's a spot about five minutes from the path towards the woods . . ." He blushed again thinking about it. "You, uh, can't really see it from the rest of the beach."
Oh, no, that wasn't a very sly grin that Lumiere was giving Jude. Not in the least. Honest.
"We'll find 'ze spot and have 'eet set up for you before you even get there, if you'd like." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "So, a table on the beach... or a blanket on 'ze sand?"
Jude blushed even brighter. "Um, maybe a table? Better for eating. But, um, I'll bring a blanket just in case." More blushing.
[[Preplayed over email with sexycandlepants, no interaction, OOC is love.]]