chef_chocobro | The Creepy Abandoned Mansion; Saturday Evening [09/23].

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The Creepy Abandoned Mansion; Saturday Evening [09/23].

Well, Ignis had won a bet (entirely fairly, mind you; yes, it was on a particularly petty technicality, but technically correct was the best kind of correct, and he suspected a valuable lesson about word choice had been learned, as well), which meant that he was cooking dinner for Liliana that evening. A good portion of the day yesterday was spent brainstorm, his mind a flurry of ideas as he lay on the couch, flipping one of his new knives in his hand with deceptive idleness. A whole catalogue of recipes flipped through his mind, each one being summarily dismissed for some minor unworthy offense, until a few seemed to fall into place perfectly, and he caught the night with one hand, snapped his fingers with the other and let out a resounding "That's it!" and started getting to work then because the sooner he was able to whip up the marinade for the steaks, the better.

So he arrived at Liliana's doorstep without too much trouble, with all his ingredients and prep work in hand, a few things he knew he couldn't chance Liliana not having on hand. There was a small bit of uncertainty with working in an unfamiliar kitchen, but he'd made do with pretty scant conditions before. Just so long as there was a place to chill the sauternes he'd brought to accompany the fluffy chiffon cake for dessert.

But first? Getting set up for cooking his pomegranate balsamic flank steak, and preparing the salad and the potatoes, with a good malbec waiting to bring it all together in the end.

That was certainly the plan, anyway, but its effectiveness relied solely on how distracting the hostess decided to be. But it would certainly seem that he'd chosen dishes that did not require a lot of maintenance and fuss for a reason, too.

[[ for she whose kithen is being invaded, of course~

*belatedly tacks on a *nsfw* cw, doo doo doo ]]

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With the number of times Liliana Vess had smugly replied, even in her own mind, that 'technically correct was the best kind of correct' made any complaints she could have about his win pure hypocrisy. That being said, being a hypocrite had never stopped Liliana before and it certainly wasn't about to start now.

Which simply meant that while he had been struggling over recipes the day before, she had been laying plans of her own. Just to make sure he didn't get too complacent with the idea of winning. She had been neck deep in hot water during her own Eureka moment; hair piled on her head as she relaxed in her tub, glass of wine in her hand. Not that she'd given any of her thoughts away when he'd arrived, answering her own door with a smile and a purred greeting, a kiss that was full of teasing but stopped short of temptation (or, at least, didn't stray there long), and then led him down the large expanse of house to the kitchen. And was also led by her steward, since it wasn't like she knew where the kitchen was except in the most vague generalities.

It was an absolute sin that Ignis couldn't see the kitchen he was working with. She found a bit of counter to perch on, not unlike a gargoyle clad in royal purple charmeuse that didn't rustle with each step but whispered.. Her steward stood quietly by to see if Ignis wanted to be shown where things were in the kitchen and if his services were needed further and slipped out when his services were no longer needed.

"Is there anything else you need?" Liliana asked, voice sweet as fruit tarts. Nothing about her could be as innocent as that voice was pretending to be, wrapping it right back around to filthy.

If there was any complaint to be found in the kitchen, it would merely be a matter of space. Even well before the matter of spatial economy had become such a high priority in his cooking style, Ignis would have preferred something like the intimacy of cooking in Noct's understated penthouse kitchen than the ones afforded to him in the chambers of the Citadel. And here, in this specific instance, there was a wanting for a closeness that a less opulent kitchen would provide.

Then again, it may just be a blessing in disguise, for the sake and survivability of the dinner itself.

And that opulence wasn't in doubt for a second, as he set up and got prepared, as it seemed to hover around Liliana like a palpable presence (was that charmeuse tonight? Interesting...).

The over set, potatoes set out for slicing, the knife twirl in his hand an unconscious compliment to a considerstion to how things mapped out from here.

"Everything seems to be well in order so far," he said, with an emphasis that such order would likely be a fragile thing indeed. "Thankfully, tonight's offerings aren't likely to delve into anything too complex. I figured that energy could best be spent elsewhere."

Couldn't imagine why he'd emphasize that. Everybody here was planning to be on their best behavior this evening, surely. Liliana, for example, was a cold and dignified planeswalker, exactly zero percent gremlin by volume.

"Is that so?" she asked, charmeuse slithering around her leg as she raised it, slowly grazing the heel of her boot up his leg. She'd dropped the unbelievable levels of innocence - for now, anyway - leaving only her usual low timbre. "Did you have plans in mind beyond dinner then?"

A slight noise, something tiny and made of metal being deliberately laid upon the marble counter she was perched upon.

If there was anything to dispel the shortcomings of a too-large space, it was certainly someone with the ability to know how to use that space, and it was little surprise to Ignis that Liliana knew how to do just that. It wasn't the boot against his leg, however, that made the steady chopping cease, his attention caught, but that small, deliberate clink of metal on the counter. His head turned his ear toward it slightly, a faint wrinkle of consternation for failing to identify it creasing his brow. A fleeting moment, though, and he presumed his work.

"The night is still quite young," he answered. "It would be a shame it call it finished with just dinner, don't you think?"

"Absolutely," Liliana agreed. "Of course, we're heading on towards night and that, darling, is when I truly blossom, like a gossamer moonglove flower."

Which were almost as beautiful as they were poisonous. Almost.

"We could go well into the darkest hours of the night if we go by my preferences alone." Her words were ripe with promise.

"Oh, I would hardly say it would be your preferences alone," Ignis mused, tossing those potatoes into the bowl with the same perceived idle casualty as that drawl.

"It would be dreadfully inconvenient if it were," she said, and there was that same noise that had so eluded him before, the sound of something slender and small and metal - a softer metal, gold or silver probably - being placed down on the counter. Whatever it was, she was being very precise in her movements, making sure that whatever it was she was placing could in no way impede him.

She'd been arch and amused as was her wont, but her next words were delivered with no playfulness, no flirty teasing, just a kind of deep and abiding gravity he could feel in his bones. As if she wanted absolutely no confusing regarding how seriously she meant what she was saying. "After dinner, I want to take you upstairs to my bed. And then just take you. Though, I suppose, the bed is negotiable."

This time, when that careful and deliberate placement caught Ignis' ear, the herbs being subjected to the expert machinations of his knife were granted no mercy, like the potatoes had. His steady hand slowed, bit did not stop, as he considered the sound again. Getting closer, he felt, to identifying it, a better guess on the material, the size, if his assumptions about the weight of Liliana's hand as she placed it were close...coins, perhaps? Rings? Some small medallion or other accoutrements? Some sliver of an artifact from her shop?

Of course, all speculation on that matter was put firmly aside, the weight of her words superceding any consideration of what had been in her hands. The knife stopped, poised over a new puzzle, of how to respond. The first impulse was, naturally, the defensive one, to pluck out one of several flippant and dry quips to work as a nice, comfortable barrier against the thrum stirred up from deep inside of him. And then the second, to respond in kind, with the bare, frank honesty of what he really felt.

Both felt dangerous, in their own unique ways.

"Good," he finally said, setting down the knife and gathered the herbs with his hand to add to the bowl. "That is precisely where I was intending to be."

Too small to be coins or rings, thinking about it, sliver actually seemed closer to the shape of it; long and thin... But what's a metal sliver...? Oh! Pins!

Pins?

That would explain her care with each one, wanting to make sure that they stayed precisely where she set them down, and didn't end up somewhere neither of them were expecting.

It was funny, wasn't it? How something as simple and as obvious as them using their words to agree in plain language that after dinner they were going to finally stop the dancing about their mutual attraction and do something about it could feel so... scandalous, almost. So foreign? They were adults, after all.

But it wasn't the topic that brought the reticence, but the clear honesty that felt...well, like being naked. Which was, of course, why she'd done it.

"Would you like some wine to drink while you prepare?" she asked, keeping her tone measured and steady, ignoring the way her heart and breathing wanted to speed up. "I have a bottle we can open now, and keep yours for dinner proper." She gave a soft chuckle. "Play a game, perhaps. Answer for an answer? Unless you want to be a very generous guest and just tell me all about yourself instead."

Ah, but if they were, indeed, pins, then that merely open the door to another question, of whether or not them being discarded meant something was in the process of becoming unpinned.

The faint smile on Ignis' face came with a sense of relief he hadn't quite realized he'd been holding so tightly, adding the garlic and taking to mix them all together.

"Perhaps not that generous," he said, "but I may be kind. I suppose that all depends on what sort of questions you have to ask.

"And perhaps," he added, "something light. And dry. The meal's accompaniment will likely lay heavy on the tongue, and dessert's sweet, so that would be a good balance to start us out."

An excellent question, wasn't it? The one about the possibility of something else becoming unpinned, that was. He kept his ears sharply tuned for such a thing,though so far, they picked out no such thing.

What it did parse was the soft hiss of Liliana moving, she hit the floor with the sharp noise of a hard sole against stone and then carefully moved about the room to prep them both some wine.

"Here," she said a moment later, placing his glass onto the counter near him, again loudly enough that he could hear where it was placed, and outside of the general area he was working. "I have many questions," she admitted, staying standing next to him, rather than moving back to her perch. "I know frightfully little about you and if that, almost nothing I know of you came from you." She dipped her own wine - light and dry, as requested - and regarded him.

"What is it that I should know about you?" she asked finally. "If there were a single fact or something that people should know in order for them to truly know you, what is it?"

Ignis began to lay out the potatoes into the pan as Liliana moved, listening carefully for a good idea of where she was moving; important information to retain, really, where she kept her wine. By the careful tracking, he could anticipate where she would place the wine, so he was quick to find it, pick it up, and have a sip before returning to finish preparing that part of the meal for the oven.

"Starting with the easy, soft ball questions, are we?" he asked, and he felt that temptation to just give a wry response, about how the whole of a man could hardly boiled down into one convenient thing for such a broad and nuanced question, but...he wanted to think about it, to see if he could actually think of a satisfactory answer and not just dismiss it so blithely. And he thought he had something, for a moment, before he gave it a look at another angle and realized how untrue it actually was.

"I think," he said, "if I were to attempt to whittle the whole of me down into just one amuse-bouche to offer just a tidbit to hold one over..."

Then he frowned, second-guessing his answer again and holding back the urge to just say something about leaning to heavily on food metaphors.

"I suppose it would be that I'm incredibly stubborn," he concluded, and, with potatoes now set, he turned his attention to the mean, "but that feels like a bit of a cheat, since I suspect you may have already noticed as much. So let's go with something a bit more flattering, and say that I can be tragically loyal."

And yet paired with the word tragic. Fascinating.

She sorted through what she knew and what she didn't, then decided to let the game actually try.

"Do I ask more questions and allow you to build up the size of the question you're allowed to voice, or do I simply end my turn there?" Liliana pretended to think about the answer. "Ask," she declared, wondering what he would ask about in her stead.

No more pins, but now the slight noise of fabric dragging over fabric. Curious.

Would that Ignis could then turn around and claim a tendency to be hyperbolic in this case, as well, but...alas...

"I hadn't realized there were degrees of questions that could be expanded through withholding," Ignis noted, with a faint grin as he worked, "but no matter. The question I have is a simple enough one."

Ingredients now collected in a small saucepan, he set it on the stove.

"You've been setting something down there, on the counter. Pins or something similarly small. What are they?"

Because it had be curious, to the point where he was willing to potentially waste a perfectly good question on it if it meant getting to figure it out sooner

Oh the absolute satisfaction in her voice when she answered that. "Pins," she replied, so that she wasn't in violation of the game she was making the rules up to as they went. "But the fuller answer requires a demonstration. If I could have your full attention for just a moment..."

She waited until he was turned around, having fastidiously wiped his hands with the towel he'd had nearby, and then leaned in to give his a deep and scorching kiss, one that left her toes curling. And in so doing, she moved his hands to her hair, which he discovered was swept up in an elegant and sophisticated updo.

Or, at least, had been, because as soon as his fingers slid into her dark tresses, it all came falling down, spilling over his hands.

Hairpins. She had been removing strategic hairpins.

Well, if Liliana had wanted his full attention, a kiss like that was a surefire way to do it, especially since it was no easy task to pull his mind entirely away from his cooking when he was in the fray of it. And when her hair fell away like melting into his fingertips, he had to let out a soft breath of a laugh as they continued to trail through it appreciatively.

"And now here I've gone," he said, "and ruined the big reveal."

Well, now he was being hyperbolic. Premature, yes, but surely she could hardly consider it ruined with his hands still lingering there and he was leaning in to kiss her again. Not quite the scorching fire she had delivered just a moment ago, but an entirely charmed and grateful one, for a question not wasted in the slightest after all.

"Oh, I assure you," she said when that kiss wound down as well, voice still heavy with satisfaction, "you have not. "It was meant to be discovered whenever you kissed me next. It just meant that I had to collect one a bit early."

How terrible for her! And she was absolutely going to remain here, pressed against him, until he removed her to return to cooking.

Which would be any moment now, she was sure. But every moment he lingered was its own victory.

Ignis had to admit, it was tempting to just stay there letting his fingers reap the benefits of this early-sprung (and incredibly effective) trap, but he also did not waste the better part of an entire day agonizing over the perfect menu for this evening just to throw it all away on something he very much planned to take full advantage of later when there wasn't a sauce to overcook.

So there would be one more kiss, before he puled himself away to return to his work, after a moment, fastidious as always, to clean his hands beforehand.

"And I believe," he stated, "that puts us back to your turn."

The important part was that it had been effective, even if he managed to extricate himself from it. She carried her pleased smile with her as she returned to her perch, carefully out of his way again.

"So what do you do on the island?" she asked. "Do you have a shop? I realized the only way I knew to reach you was to go to your home."

And you could understand why she had refused to do that as a step too far.

"Well, that's technically two questions," Ignis pointed out, because of course he would, "but the second is an easy one, so I won't hold that against you. No, no shop. I originally came here to teach." There was a soft, nostalgic sort of snort at that, the sort that suggested that was much more to the story than he was letting on there, no doubt emphasized by the shake of his head. "And I did do a little of that when I returned, but this last semester..."

He trailed off slightly, which was a good time to pour a little more focus into the cooking, which was a convenient excuse.

"...I might go back to it, in the spring, but in the meantime, I'm working at the diner on Tuesdays."

Then, a frown, as the full scope of her question really seemed to hit him. "Have you not gotten yourself a phone?"

"No?" Liliana said, frowning. "Those are the little boxes, right? People take pictures with them, I've seen. I learned some about pictures from Prompto, but that didn't seem important enough to warrant me fetching one for myself."

Edited 2023-09-23 21:46 (UTC)

"It's primary function," Ignis offered, "is communication, actually. From one phone to another. All the other things are just bells and whistles."

A pause as she absorbed this.

"Ah," she said, tone a bit more formal and cool. "Well, I suppose that does make more sense than some version of calling hours at various shops and things the way I was starting to wonder."

What else has she been missing?

"I suppose I shall have to fetch one of those sooner than anticipated then."

"And when you do," said Ignis, meat in the oven, sauce stirred, and now to tend to the salad, "then that'd be another way in which I can be reached. So...what do you have for me next?"

Even feeling slightly foolish, that didn't stop Liliana from having more questions. And nothing would keep her from asking them.

"What did you teach?" she asked, still less easy sounding than before, but with an excited curiosity that was obvious.

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