The Italians would say... "Mi Dispiace."

[das_vedanya]

WHO: Ivan and Emiliana
WHEN: October 13th, Late Evening
WHERE: A Four-Star Italian Restaurant at the Intersection of Pearl St. And Harbor Ave.
WHAT: It was meant to be an apology for events that transpired two weeks before, but it turns into a melancholy.

Comments

[das_vedanya]

He let out a nervous laugh as the two of them mutually took their respected seats, and spent the next several seconds shuffling feet and scooting about the chair to make things ideally less uncomfortable for their already uncomfortable situation. "Nyet, please, this is my apology. It would be meaningless if you had to pay as well, da?" He smoothed out the trouser wrinkles on his knees with a stroke of his palms. Realizing seconds later that he was staring, he reached for the menu and scoured for something that sounded appetizing to a stomach already full of butterflies and moths.

Once he reluctantly decided on what he could stomach, he put the menu down, and toyed with the slightly bent corner. The waiter, as if responding to some psychic energy put off by placing down the menu, was instantly at their table cradling a bottle of wine. He presented it - Ivan waved his hand in approval - and then he proceeded to shower both glasses with a few ounces of wine. The waiter then pulled a moleskin from his apron and held a pen expectantly to it, and asked in a faked Italian accent what they would like that evening.

As Ivan became painfully aware of the basket of cooling bread sticks in the center of the table, he requested the Chicken Alfredo, and swallowed a gulp of wine.

[salylimon]

"I still think doing this over coffee would have been better." Better. And perhaps even less awkward and much quicker, really. Now they were stuck here, separated by a small table, crisp white tablecloth, a neat, floral centerpiece, and an unlit candle.

He knew that she didn't want to be here. And perhaps, he didn't want to be here wither.

But there they were, regardless.

Heaving a small sigh, Emi followed Ivan's example and gingerly picked up her own menu, eyes scanning the expansive dishes before finally deciding on a simple penne pasta dish. She flashed the waiter a small smile as she spoke her choice to him, making sure not to cringe at the atrocious, faux Italian accent as she picked up her wine glass.

Watching the waiter leave from the corner of her eye, Emi took a quick sip before setting it back down. She still had to drive back 'home,' so perhaps drinking so much wasn't that great of idea...though, judging by the way the Russian all but finished his share, she was going to assume that he didn't think the same.

Sighing, she locked eyes with Ivan with a small frown. "I still don't know why you want to apologize to me, Ivan." Emi said after a moment's pause. "I came home, found you two unconscious, and called for an ambulance. I really don't get why-" She broke off, giving a helpless shrug before picking up her wine glass once more.

[das_vedanya]

He nearly upset the wine glass in his attempt to grab its neck. "Well, it's... I can only imagine how traumatic this is for you." He stared at his ruby red reflection in the thick liquid shivering down the sides of his wine glass, then brought it to his lips and downed the last ounce - frowned, and wished the waiter had left the bottle.

The waiter, compelled by his psychic energy again, returned to set fire to the wick of the candle. As if in a trance, he stared into the flame and barely noticed the waiter now topping his water and wine glass. "You two make'a love-a-ly couple. And what'a is de occasion?"

He suddenly wished that the tablecloth was on fire. Or that he had spilled wine on his sleeve and had to excuse himself to the bathroom. Truly, it was a terrible combination. A man and a woman dressed in such a manner at a four-star restaurant, ordering wine and overpriced food, murmuring over candlelight. Ivan quickly occupied his mouth with a slow, incessant taste of the wine, plastering the glass as if it were glued to his tongue. Coffee would have been better, yes, but he couldn't get drunk off of it.

[salylimon]

She watched as he finished with the serving of wine he had been given, almost tempted to offer her own, but if she wanted to get through this, Emi figured that a little wine would help ease this tension she was feeling.

If anything, she could walk home.

Another sip and she stared at Ivan from over the rim of her wine glass. "Traumatic?" She repeated softly. "Maybe. But I'm perfectly fine, so you don't need to worry. Or go to such lengths," A vague gesture to the surroundings. "In order to apologize to me or make amends, Ivan." At the arrival of their waiter, she fell silent, strained and false smile once again gracing her lips as she nodded in thanks to the other man.

That smile, however, fell as soon as he spoke.

"I, no, we're just..." Emi paused, unsure. "We're just friends." But the waiter didn't seem to hear her stuttered protest. Instead, he continued about their table, muttering something about 'dates' and 'anniversary's' before he waltzed off to attend to another table.

Dios.

[das_vedanya]

Suddenly the faux Italian man looked more foreign than his bleach blond hair could oblige, as Emiliana's words seemed to sound like English to an Italian man. Ivan followed the pitiful creature with his eyes and hoped that his corneas were burning holes into the back of his shirt.

When he turned back, it was as if he'd forgotten everything of their previous conversation; as if she had just sat down and the last thing they said to each other was an exchange of greetings.

"We probably could've gotten out of that three years ago." He smiled to his glass of wine, but did not take a sip - only let the alcohol paint his lips.

[salylimon]

Emi remained quiet for a moment, eyes lowering to stare at the centerpiece between them before looking back up at Ivan. "Had we ever gone to a place like this, you mean." She finally responded, wine glass settled in front of her once more.

"But that was then and this is now. Though I'm surprised you even brought it up," she said, fingers tapping against the table lightly. "I thought we came to some sort of unspoken truce about never speaking about us, seeing as, well, you know." She waved her hand vaguely, eyes still trained on Ivan.

[das_vedanya]

"...seeing as we could barely call it dating?" he finished, smoothing out the napkin in his lap only to pick at it to surface more wrinkles. He smiled distantly, suddenly and painfully aware of his unconscious reasoning behind the need to bring Emiliana sunflowers as an apology. Actually, he owed her this apology long before his pipe first met John's skull.

'Emiliana, you're beautiful. Any guy would be lucky to have you, but it's unfair for me to keep them from that if I don't feel as attracted to you as I should.' She brought sunflowers then, too.

"I'm not sure if we ever had a chance."

[salylimon]

"Basically," Emi said with a small scoff, hand sliding down to absently pick at the sunflowers laying beside her. "I'm surprised you still remember how pretty I think sunflowers are, though." Her fingertip traced the shape of a petal before she settled her hand on top of her lap, fingers curling into the hem of her blazer briefly before relaxing.

Her gaze flickered upward, temporarily transfixed with the way the dim lighting bounced from the nearby chandeliers, its reflection fluttering about the ceiling before she stared at Ivan with a small, albeit blank, grin.

"I really don't think we did," she agreed, glass of wine back against her lips once more.

[das_vedanya]

"Well, it's quite the adoration we share," he said as-a-matter-of-factly. His fingers curled around the napkin as if it were the petals of the sunflower itself, delicately placed in his lap instead of nudged against the untouched basket of break sticks. He reached for his wineglass again, but upon seeing Emi's pressed to her lips, he thought it best to leave his be. Instead, he occupied a second's time with a sigh.

"My fault," he commented idly, finger tracing circles in the wet stain on the table cloth where he water once stood.

[salylimon]

"...Actually, remember how, before, I used to go on about stories of how my family thought sunflowers came from Mexico? Well, it was proven, ah, a few months after we...broke up." Another vague wave of her hand, even as her eyes lit up briefly as she spoke. "Though, you probably already knew that," Another sip and memories of her rushing from class to visit Ivan at his shop flashed before her, followed shortly by one of her leaning against the counter, no doubt talking his ear off even as he took it all with stride.

Interesting...

Brow furrowing slightly, she looked him over with a frown. "Your fault? Your fault for what?"

[das_vedanya]

He wanted to tell Emi that no, in fact he did not know that sunflowers originated from Mexico. Alfred told him ridiculous stories about the plant coming from somewhere in Kansas, and how acres upon acres of land were dedicated solely to that plant where it could bloom all year, where the snow of Russia wouldn't swarm the petals and cause the stem to break under pressure. Alfred could not appreciate the golden color of the petals that matched his hair as Emi appreciated the seeds that matched hers.

"Being who I am and leading you astray when I shouldn't have..."

[salylimon]

Distantly, she could make out the sounds of what was most likely their waiter approaching their table once more. But, at this moment, Emi's sole attention was focused on Ivan and only Ivan before she leaned back in her chair slightly.

"You didn't lead me astray, Ivan. I kind of noticed something was...different. And, well, what happened didn't really hurt. Not as much as what happened after we stopped talking. I-" She broke off briefly. "I really don't know why that happened, actually. Why we stopped talking..."

[das_vedanya]

He barely registered the steam now rising from his Chicken Alfredo before him. As a faceless hand deposited two plates before the respected customers, Ivan found himself getting trapped between the rising steam of Emi's dish and her eyes.

"Customs?" Ivan guessed, awkwardly rubbing his forearm as he felt the butterflies fill his stomach and make him lose his appetite. "Customarily, it seems, couples don't talk to each other after that."

[salylimon]

"I've heard of special cases," Emi supplied with a small smile and a barely there lift of her shoulders. "But I guess that wasn't us." Her fingers splayed out on top of the white tablecloth, fingertips pressing firmly against the wood resting beneath it.

"Though, you shouldn't beat yourself up about it. I mean, at least I had you before life decided to, ah, get really chaotic." She stared down at her food, wondering if maybe she should start eating before it got cold, though she couldn't help but glance at Ivan from beneath long lashes. "I didn't think we'd be here for you to apologize about that, though. Was the thing about John just a clever ruse to get me here?" She asked, voice light, playful even, but still with a hint of teasing bite.

[das_vedanya]

"Haha, nyet," he waved his hand at her, feeling an ounce of the tension lift along with his laughter. "You see, I... I sincerely thought for a while that John was the one responsible for--" but Ivan broke off, plucking his fork from the tablecloth and stabbing it through the heart of the chicken breast. "--for what happened to Alfred."

[salylimon]

"You thought John-?" Her voice caught in her throat, expression disbelieving as she stared at Ivan. "Why in the world-?" She broke off again, fingers curling tightly around her fork, that feeling of wanting to flee starting to overcome her once more. But, no, she had to stay. She had to.

She had to-

"Just, no, I don't want to know. I, well, it wasn't him. I'm sure you know that now," She finished weakly, slumping ever so slightly in her seat.