He has a serious metallics fetish tonight. Mel walks in, and catches her reflection in the mirror. Lit by candles in silver around her, creating a soft, ebbing light that almost gives her a halo, she ought to be more composed than she is. Giving herself a mental kick up the backside, she stands up straighter, although her belly is roiling.
'Is there a special occasion I've forgotten?' she asks, glancing back over her shoulder. Strike one, he probably wasn't going to break up with her, or he was but now felt like an idiot because she looks pretty. ''Cause I forgot to bring a present if there was. Sorry.' Mel holds out the rose as a peace offering, petals slightly stiff. One falls to the ground delicately. Oooh, foreshadowing.
'You look really good as well,' she assures him. She's not so unaccustomed to him in formal wear she'll faint at the sight of him, but, you know. The tie brings out his eyes and it fits so well, why does he hate getting dressed up while she loves it? Her gaze falls on the table, and she blinks in astonishment. 'You cooked?'
Brice shook his head and leaned in to press his lips against hers for a short moment. She even smelled fantastic. Oh, she always smelled good, but now there was the faint scent of lilacs surrounding her, a little souvenir from Heaven.
"No special occasion." Except that it absolutely was. He took the rose though, sighing inwardly as the petal fell. He knew that had been a shoddy charm. "I just wanted to do something nice. You deserve it." And very carefully, he stuck the rose next to the fabric one already in her hair. That look suited her very well indeed.
He closed the door around her, and heavy red curtains fell down from somewhere and covered the polished wood. They were completely alone. Brice took Mel's hand. "Yeah. The House-elves helped a little bit. But, uh, yeah. So. Are you hungry?"
The weirdest thing about the Room of Requirement isn't that you have to walk three times past it thinking what you want; it's that it adapts itself instantly to your needs. Mel jumps a bit at the swish and squeezes his hand in mild shock. His nerves are rubbing off on her.
'How long were you planning this for?' she asks slightly suspiciously. He's been acting weird for a while, but surely a dinner can't take up this much time and effort, even this sort. 'I--yeah, sure, I'm hungry.' And SUSPICIOUS. And wondering just how accomplished of a cook he is; you can't mess up steak, can you?
He gently guided her forward and pulled out her chair for her. Brice was from a time 200 years into the future, where manners like these were considered positively ancient to the majority of the population, but then again he had been raised upper crust and taught even these things. Granted, he'd started his rebelling early, but there were some things that remained engraved in your brain long after other things had been forgotten, and one of them was Being Polite To Girls. Brice did know that.
"I've been planning it for a while," he admitted a little awkwardly. "Since the last mission. You were so tense about it I figured you deserved a nice night out. I hope this is edible." He lifted a silver lid off a pot, and the smell off food wafted through the air, only leaving a hint of her perfume left. It was definitely not a bad smell.
Brice glanced up at her and was again struck by how pretty she looked. He took the red rose from her plate and held it out to her. "You look beautiful. Good job on the dress."
The manners he is using are as old as dirt to her, too, but they're still appreciated. Mel likes being treated nicely by her boyfriend. She sits, skirt blossoming around her as she sits as if it feels every pull of the wind.
'It smells edible,' she says sincerely, as a compliment, and smiles slightly shyly. He probably hasn't seen that smile since they first began to date. It's the one where she gets embarrassed but is glowing with pleasure, normally; now, it's because she's vaguely unsure of where tonight is going to lead, if anywhere.
Accepting rhe rose, she raises her eyebrows. 'Lola wouldn't rest til I got it. She wouldn't say why, though...?' It can't just be this--can it.
Brice sat down opposite her, careful not to put his shoes on her dress. "We eat first, babe," he said. "And we look deeply into each other's eyes and have a wonderful, romantic time. I missed you today. How are things in Heaven?"
Babble, babble. Maybe after a little chit-chat, he was going to feel less nervous? Not likely. But then again, she seemed nervous now. He wanted to put her mind at ease. Was she suspecting something? Maybe. She sure wasn't buying the 'This is just a dinner, nothing more' story. And that smile was sending flutters in his stomach, like butterflies waking up and stretching with anticipation. It made him smile back, warmly, and sent a shine to his eyes.
Yeah, it's not working. Scenarios are bubbling through her head, and he's not being evasive over if he loves her or anything...maybe he's turned evil again, and so has Lola. Only this sort of evil is where she's the thing that needs protecting. It could happen!
'Um, we saw Al,' she starts, toying with her fork. 'He's good. Reuben wasn't about. Probably out on a mission.' He's never there anymore when they go back up. Mel's starting to wonder if he plans it. She casts her eyes around the room. It looks almost like a castle from Beauty and the Beast or something. Mel glances at the rose and lays it by the candle, watching wax drip onto the stem.
Mel has some of her food. Aw, he really tried, didn't he?
"And you were just shopping all day?" That's what the girls did when they were out together, right? Only shopping and sipping smoothies.
Brice speared a mushroom, and chewed and swallowed. Yeah, not bad. Could have used more salt, maybe. "I was thinking maybe you and I could go up there again one of these days. I haven't been there in a long time, it feels like. Or maybe we could go on a trip with the FAB1." Oh yeah, they hadn't taken advantage of Penny's goodbye gift yet, despite the fact that it was a very cool flying car that could also go under water. Brice just kept it in a garage near the stables, where he sometimes went to see it hadn't been scratched or anything.
"Remember Italy?" he asked with a vague smile. "That was nice."
Argh, she cannot sit here amidst all this vagueness; smiling and nodding and 'mmm'-ing. Mel wants to know what the name of the game is. Does it mean anything to you? Tell her, please, 'cause she has to know.
(Sorry.)
Mel nods, smiles, chews, swallows. 'Yeah, just...smoothies and shoes.' She gestures to her hair. 'She made me get this thing to go with my dress.' Another, slightly singed, petal breaks off and topples down, at the last moment avoiding the inferno. 'Italy was nice, yeah...' Bloody hell, Brice, just say it! Say whatever it is you need to! Her knuckles are slightly white from where she's gripping her cutlery tight. She doesn't know how obvious her impatience is on her face, but she's willing to bet she doesn't look entirely at ease. Mel looks around the room once more, for a clue.
She did not seem exactly her sparkly self. Apparently the chit-chat wasn't doing the trick here. Okay. Take the bull by the horn. Throw yourself from the cliff. Look into the barrel of the gun.
Brice swallowed and put his fork down. How was he going to start this, exactly?
"So... You've clocked that something's going on." Statement, not a question. "So maybe I should just... get down to it. Um..." He fiddled with his napkin. "I just, um... lately I've had this feeling that, um, there was something I wanted to talk to you about. And, um, maybe we should just... talk about it now. If that's okay."
Well, that explained precisely fuck-all. Mel's eyes widen by virtue of showing she's listening, and they blink almost owlishly. Yes, she's listening. Go on.
(He's not breaking up with her. He mentioned romance too many times for that. The evil idea? Still a possibility, but why would he do the speech so badly if that were the case? He's normally so suave. It's not an anniversary. This leaves the option that Brice did something bad. Uh-oh. What happened?)
Mel lays her cutlery down, hand lingering on the stem of the fork so she can play with it if need be. 'It's fine,' she says soothingly, heart hammering so fiercely it's a wonder the bodice of her dress isn't ripping. 'Come on--you can tell me anything.'
The ring felt incredibly heavy. Alright. It was like ripping off a Band-Aid. He just had to do it. Very slowly, feeling vaguely like he was having an out-of-body experience, Brice opened his jacket a bit and took out the blue velvet box.
"It's just that... well... I love you. And I wanted to, uh, do this properly. Maybe wait until dessert. But maybe I should get it over with. You seem less sparkly than usual and I don't want you to be scared of anything, but I wanted to ask you, because I love you, if you would maybe like to marry me, Mel Beeby?"
Too late, he remembered that he should be standing on one knee. But no, he couldn't do that now, could he? It'd look silly, and frankly, he felt like he'd been silly enough in his little speech. Why hadn't he prepared more?
Instead he opened the box, and let the ring glitter in the candle light. Then he looked up at her, waiting for her to speak.
That's the way to get to Mel's heart. 'Proposing to you was like ripping off a plaster. It really hurt and I didn't want to do it, but I knew I had to eventually.' Don't tell her your thoughts went that way, Brice, 'cause it won't be pretty.
What's he getting out of his jacket? A velv--omigod. That has got a ring inside it. Oh, sweet Jesus. And he said the m-word, and Mel's eyes have got as wide as they can possibly get. And her mouth is open. In terror.
She loves Brice--how could she possibly not?--but Mel is scared stiff of commitment. Asking him to move in was a step she never thought she'd take, but apparently her inner angel bypassed her brain that day. And it hasn't been so bad. How long had they been going out for, then? A year and a half? How long does it have to be before you can ask about marriage? Longer. Ten years. Twenty. They have eternity! They don't need to rush! Mel is eighteen, for God's sake! There are a billion good reasons for not marrying him. Maybe if he'd not used the word 'marry' she might have been more receptive.
As it is, he didn't. Mel drops her fork onto her plate with a pretty, crystalline 'clang', and moves her chair backwards, suddenly wishing she had clothes she could actually move in. She's shaking her head, and more petals are fluttering down. 'No. Sorry. No. I can't. Not--no. Just no.' No 'I need to think'. Just a 'no'. Ouch. In ten minutes, she will think back on how she rejected him and cringe.
She hasn't even looked at the ring. Just at him, the entire time. Her face is miserable, because she knows how much courage it took for him to propose--so that's why he's been acting all weird--but she has to refuse him. 'I need to--yeah, I won't be. Thank you for dinner. Um. Lola'll...if you need me. Right. No. Sorry.'
Making no sense, she stands, and makes for the door feeling like she's not entirely there. This is possibly worse than suspecting he's cheating on her. Less sparkly than usual? Well, yes, now.
Just really, really crap. A whole bunch of multilingual and very inventive swears passed through Brice's head, and in 0.2 seconds he'd gotten out of his seat.
"Mel, wait..."
But he didn't know how to continue. What was he going to say? Explain? But he'd never seen her look so completely mortified before, so shocked, like her world was falling apart. What had she expected, then? Not this, clearly. They were young, still. But they'd been together for over a year, they were living together, they shared custody of a dog... It was pretty serious already. How much would a ring change?
A lot, he realised. For her. He should never have mentioned the m-word. Hell, that freaked him out too.
But now here he was, with a barely touched meal and a girlfriend who'd made it very clear that she did not want to get married, and who was now on the run. What could he do?
Yeah, he could beg.
"Please... Just wait. I said it wrong. I'm sorry."
'You didn't say it wrong,' she reassures, hand on the doorknob, over her shoulder again. 'It was really pretty and nice. Brice, I love you, but...I can't get married. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry.'
She really messed this up, huh? Nice dress, boyfriend in a suit, crystal and china, all reduced to nothing.
And he knew this. He knew, and he still went through with it. He must be some kind of glutton for punishment.
"I didn't mean we have to do it right now," he said. "I mean... I know it's sudden and everything, but..."
He'd lost. What was he really trying to do? Talk her into it? It didn't work like that. Both people had to want to to get engaged. And she didn't want to. Right. Some air left him, and he slumped.
"Right. Okay. I'm sorry." And he closed the box with a little click.
'Is there a special occasion I've forgotten?' she asks, glancing back over her shoulder. Strike one, he probably wasn't going to break up with her, or he was but now felt like an idiot because she looks pretty. ''Cause I forgot to bring a present if there was. Sorry.' Mel holds out the rose as a peace offering, petals slightly stiff. One falls to the ground delicately. Oooh, foreshadowing.
'You look really good as well,' she assures him. She's not so unaccustomed to him in formal wear she'll faint at the sight of him, but, you know. The tie brings out his eyes and it fits so well, why does he hate getting dressed up while she loves it? Her gaze falls on the table, and she blinks in astonishment. 'You cooked?'
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"No special occasion." Except that it absolutely was. He took the rose though, sighing inwardly as the petal fell. He knew that had been a shoddy charm. "I just wanted to do something nice. You deserve it." And very carefully, he stuck the rose next to the fabric one already in her hair. That look suited her very well indeed.
He closed the door around her, and heavy red curtains fell down from somewhere and covered the polished wood. They were completely alone. Brice took Mel's hand. "Yeah. The House-elves helped a little bit. But, uh, yeah. So. Are you hungry?"
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'How long were you planning this for?' she asks slightly suspiciously. He's been acting weird for a while, but surely a dinner can't take up this much time and effort, even this sort. 'I--yeah, sure, I'm hungry.' And SUSPICIOUS. And wondering just how accomplished of a cook he is; you can't mess up steak, can you?
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He gently guided her forward and pulled out her chair for her. Brice was from a time 200 years into the future, where manners like these were considered positively ancient to the majority of the population, but then again he had been raised upper crust and taught even these things. Granted, he'd started his rebelling early, but there were some things that remained engraved in your brain long after other things had been forgotten, and one of them was Being Polite To Girls. Brice did know that.
"I've been planning it for a while," he admitted a little awkwardly. "Since the last mission. You were so tense about it I figured you deserved a nice night out. I hope this is edible." He lifted a silver lid off a pot, and the smell off food wafted through the air, only leaving a hint of her perfume left. It was definitely not a bad smell.
Brice glanced up at her and was again struck by how pretty she looked. He took the red rose from her plate and held it out to her. "You look beautiful. Good job on the dress."
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'It smells edible,' she says sincerely, as a compliment, and smiles slightly shyly. He probably hasn't seen that smile since they first began to date. It's the one where she gets embarrassed but is glowing with pleasure, normally; now, it's because she's vaguely unsure of where tonight is going to lead, if anywhere.
Accepting rhe rose, she raises her eyebrows. 'Lola wouldn't rest til I got it. She wouldn't say why, though...?' It can't just be this--can it.
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Brice sat down opposite her, careful not to put his shoes on her dress. "We eat first, babe," he said. "And we look deeply into each other's eyes and have a wonderful, romantic time. I missed you today. How are things in Heaven?"
Babble, babble. Maybe after a little chit-chat, he was going to feel less nervous? Not likely. But then again, she seemed nervous now. He wanted to put her mind at ease. Was she suspecting something? Maybe. She sure wasn't buying the 'This is just a dinner, nothing more' story. And that smile was sending flutters in his stomach, like butterflies waking up and stretching with anticipation. It made him smile back, warmly, and sent a shine to his eyes.
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'Um, we saw Al,' she starts, toying with her fork. 'He's good. Reuben wasn't about. Probably out on a mission.' He's never there anymore when they go back up. Mel's starting to wonder if he plans it. She casts her eyes around the room. It looks almost like a castle from Beauty and the Beast or something. Mel glances at the rose and lays it by the candle, watching wax drip onto the stem.
Mel has some of her food. Aw, he really tried, didn't he?
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Brice speared a mushroom, and chewed and swallowed. Yeah, not bad. Could have used more salt, maybe. "I was thinking maybe you and I could go up there again one of these days. I haven't been there in a long time, it feels like. Or maybe we could go on a trip with the FAB1." Oh yeah, they hadn't taken advantage of Penny's goodbye gift yet, despite the fact that it was a very cool flying car that could also go under water. Brice just kept it in a garage near the stables, where he sometimes went to see it hadn't been scratched or anything.
"Remember Italy?" he asked with a vague smile. "That was nice."
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(Sorry.)
Mel nods, smiles, chews, swallows. 'Yeah, just...smoothies and shoes.' She gestures to her hair. 'She made me get this thing to go with my dress.' Another, slightly singed, petal breaks off and topples down, at the last moment avoiding the inferno. 'Italy was nice, yeah...' Bloody hell, Brice, just say it! Say whatever it is you need to! Her knuckles are slightly white from where she's gripping her cutlery tight. She doesn't know how obvious her impatience is on her face, but she's willing to bet she doesn't look entirely at ease. Mel looks around the room once more, for a clue.
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Brice swallowed and put his fork down. How was he going to start this, exactly?
"So... You've clocked that something's going on." Statement, not a question. "So maybe I should just... get down to it. Um..." He fiddled with his napkin. "I just, um... lately I've had this feeling that, um, there was something I wanted to talk to you about. And, um, maybe we should just... talk about it now. If that's okay."
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(He's not breaking up with her. He mentioned romance too many times for that. The evil idea? Still a possibility, but why would he do the speech so badly if that were the case? He's normally so suave. It's not an anniversary. This leaves the option that Brice did something bad. Uh-oh. What happened?)
Mel lays her cutlery down, hand lingering on the stem of the fork so she can play with it if need be. 'It's fine,' she says soothingly, heart hammering so fiercely it's a wonder the bodice of her dress isn't ripping. 'Come on--you can tell me anything.'
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"It's just that... well... I love you. And I wanted to, uh, do this properly. Maybe wait until dessert. But maybe I should get it over with. You seem less sparkly than usual and I don't want you to be scared of anything, but I wanted to ask you, because I love you, if you would maybe like to marry me, Mel Beeby?"
Too late, he remembered that he should be standing on one knee. But no, he couldn't do that now, could he? It'd look silly, and frankly, he felt like he'd been silly enough in his little speech. Why hadn't he prepared more?
Instead he opened the box, and let the ring glitter in the candle light. Then he looked up at her, waiting for her to speak.
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What's he getting out of his jacket? A velv--omigod. That has got a ring inside it. Oh, sweet Jesus. And he said the m-word, and Mel's eyes have got as wide as they can possibly get. And her mouth is open. In terror.
She loves Brice--how could she possibly not?--but Mel is scared stiff of commitment. Asking him to move in was a step she never thought she'd take, but apparently her inner angel bypassed her brain that day. And it hasn't been so bad. How long had they been going out for, then? A year and a half? How long does it have to be before you can ask about marriage? Longer. Ten years. Twenty. They have eternity! They don't need to rush! Mel is eighteen, for God's sake! There are a billion good reasons for not marrying him. Maybe if he'd not used the word 'marry' she might have been more receptive.
As it is, he didn't. Mel drops her fork onto her plate with a pretty, crystalline 'clang', and moves her chair backwards, suddenly wishing she had clothes she could actually move in. She's shaking her head, and more petals are fluttering down. 'No. Sorry. No. I can't. Not--no. Just no.' No 'I need to think'. Just a 'no'. Ouch. In ten minutes, she will think back on how she rejected him and cringe.
She hasn't even looked at the ring. Just at him, the entire time. Her face is miserable, because she knows how much courage it took for him to propose--so that's why he's been acting all weird--but she has to refuse him. 'I need to--yeah, I won't be. Thank you for dinner. Um. Lola'll...if you need me. Right. No. Sorry.'
Making no sense, she stands, and makes for the door feeling like she's not entirely there. This is possibly worse than suspecting he's cheating on her. Less sparkly than usual? Well, yes, now.
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Just really, really crap. A whole bunch of multilingual and very inventive swears passed through Brice's head, and in 0.2 seconds he'd gotten out of his seat.
"Mel, wait..."
But he didn't know how to continue. What was he going to say? Explain? But he'd never seen her look so completely mortified before, so shocked, like her world was falling apart. What had she expected, then? Not this, clearly. They were young, still. But they'd been together for over a year, they were living together, they shared custody of a dog... It was pretty serious already. How much would a ring change?
A lot, he realised. For her. He should never have mentioned the m-word. Hell, that freaked him out too.
But now here he was, with a barely touched meal and a girlfriend who'd made it very clear that she did not want to get married, and who was now on the run. What could he do?
Yeah, he could beg.
"Please... Just wait. I said it wrong. I'm sorry."
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She really messed this up, huh? Nice dress, boyfriend in a suit, crystal and china, all reduced to nothing.
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"I didn't mean we have to do it right now," he said. "I mean... I know it's sudden and everything, but..."
He'd lost. What was he really trying to do? Talk her into it? It didn't work like that. Both people had to want to to get engaged. And she didn't want to. Right. Some air left him, and he slumped.
"Right. Okay. I'm sorry." And he closed the box with a little click.
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