macaroni et fromage [oreiller]

His apartment was small, plain and - to put bluntly - shabby as hell compared to the rest of Sofia. Almost all of the students and "official staff" that had worked at the prestigious European school had their own extravagant dorms and nearby suites, befitting the status of all the academy's attendants. However, as he was neither a student or exactly an important faculty member, they had shuffled him aside to the small studio homes off-campus; along with the janitors, the landscapers, and other-wise useful keepers.

The only spare room itself was the tiny bathroom to the back, hidden just to the side of the walk-in closet. Aside from the mattress stuffed in the back corner and the old wooden table and chairs, there wasn't much room for sitting at all. The floor space was kept tight between boxes and bookshelves, his violin, and an old TV that had a total of two channels, neither in a language that he fully understood (but provided good practice for his own speaking skills if he ever bothered.)

Truly, there were a few good reasons that Jason never spent much time in his humble home. Alas, he had trapped himself in a corner. He'd promised his dear friend Elodie a dinner, his treat, before he'd realized just how empty his wallet was. In haste, he'd rushed around cleaning up his bachelor pad, hiding away all his dirty clothes and scrubbing through the dishes in a rush.

Two sleek plates remained on the dining table now, a bowl of fresh (or mostly fresh) salad and a bowl of baked macaroni and cheese between them. He had managed to save one of his best bottles of wine overtime, ripe for pouring, and put out a sweet-scented candle... lit just for good measure.

"Great, this is pretty good." He mused, trying to pep-talk some cheer into himself. In truth, his was practically weary waiting for that knock on the door. Maybe he should get some music going to? Not that he was trying to be romantic or anything, but hey, he knew she had standards.

Je suis ici de nouveau.

Elodie flipped open a pocket mirror and fluffed her hair, checking and double checking her face. She couldn't say how long she'd been standing outside in the hall, staring down the door, but if anyone had saw her there, she was sure it would've painted a strange picture. The mirror disappeared into her bag and she pursed her lips, fluttering her eyelashes, drawing in a breath, exhaling, sharp as a sigh. While she wasn't late, there wasn't any sense in standing here any longer and keeping him waiting. But still, she'd stood there regardless.

She pulled out the pocket mirror again.

It wasn't the first time they'd sit down to have dinner together. For the past few months, it'd become something of a regular occurrence, so there wasn't any need to fret over something so trivial. They were far past first impressions. Elodie clasped the mirror close, and then opened it again. There was something uneasy in her rehearsed smile, a crack in the porcelain. She put the mirror away.

Day after day, after so many walks and meals and conversations together, one would think that it'd become routine. It should've been a simple thing to visit a friend. Instead, after all this time, she was still turning this into such a tormented process. She'd picked over her outfit for tonight as methodically as someone might weigh their options when disarming a bomb. In the end she'd settled with a white sweater with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, a high-waisted pink wool skirt, opaque tights and black pumps, a charm bracelet on her wrist and a silver pendant around her neck. Perhaps a hundred different times while making her way to his apartment, she'd wondered if it was too much, or wasn't enough, or just not right, second-guessing herself every second step. To her private shame, it wasn't anyone's fault but her own.

She could blame it on stress, but that was no reason to fumble around lost in her own thoughts. No matter what, she couldn't be a fool.

Not here, at least. No matter what burden was placed on her, Sofia or on the outside, these little engagements with Jason were welcome respite. Here, it was a relief to be able to unwind.

When she wasn't fretting herself to death like an old woman, that is.

Elodie shifted her bag over her shoulder and breathed out again, a light smile flitting to her face. Right, she had to walk in sooner or later, and to be 'late' would be impolite, even if she'd been there the whole time. She reached up and tapped her hand against the door, three clean knocks.

Jason huffed out a melodramatic sigh, running his hands through his hair and checking around the room once again, stuck with the paranoid feeling that there was something amiss, something that wouldn't be quite right that the would easy catch unto as soon as he opened the door. It certainly wouldn't have been out of place of his luck for some stupid shirt or magazine to come out of it's plain-sighted hiding place.

As he ticked around, however, he continued to find nothing and everything in it's perfect place - for once. He took in a deep breath and forced himself to relax, straightening out his shirt and throwing a quick glance back to the small dining table. Something about it just slightly out of place, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

The sound of swift knocking snapped his attention away in an instant. In sudden haste, he flattened down ruffled hair and made his way to the door, just pausing as he grabbed the doorknob for a moment and putting on his best smile.

"Who could that be?" He wondered aloud, just close enough for her to hear through the frame. He at least attempted to put on his best casual look as he finally opened up, but his grin gave his stupid joke all-too easily. "Why, Elodie. What a surprise." The blonde knew better than to leave her in the hall for long, stepping back and waving her inside.

Her smile cracked wide open at the sound of his voice. She dipped her gaze to the ground, clasping her hands in front of her to keep her composure. It had been senseless of her to hesitate over something so simple and so casual. With a lilting sigh, she relaxed her shoulders and spoke through the frame. "Mon, mon, have you forgotten?" Elodie smiled as the door swung open, tilting her head. At least, it seemed, she was not overdressed. He had a natural relaxed air to him and a warm smile, and it must have been contagious, because all her out of place self-consciousness melted away when her eyes met his. "Just an intruder, Monsieur. I hope I am not troubling you by dropping by so unexpectedly."

The state of her over dressing must have been aatter of personal opinion, now that he saw her standing there he had felt rather shabby in comparison - as always. He'd dug out his nicest shirt, sure, but he'd grabbed whatever clean pair of jeans he could find. Although, if they were just at his place, none of that really mattered anyways, did it? There was no point in fretting.

"I don't know," Jace pushed past those troublesome thoughts, focusing back on the younger girl instead and softly grabbing at her shoulder... for balance, of course.

He leaned in quickly, brushing a quick peck across her cheek, and then again to her other. It wasn't a gesture he was quite used to as of yet, but he couldn't find it in him to complain. 'When in Rome,' he told himself.

His face had brightened somewhat considerably as he took a sharp step back, smiling down at her. "You might be, but I guess I can let you off the hook this time."

Her eyes fluttered close as he planted a kiss on both cheeks, and even after all this time, it still had that trace of stiffness to it. She was quick to reciprocate, one on his right cheek, two on his left, and pulled away with the hint of a smile on her lips. "You are very gracious," she answered, looking over the sudden splash of color across his face. "Does it feel unnatural, Monsieur Wright? I know you are not so familiar with greeting a person this way. If you are uncomfortable, then you could shake my hand instead." Elodie's expression didn't change, but her smile lifted oh-so lightly. "Perhaps I should not tell you, but in France, we do not actually kiss. We brush cheeks." She pursed her lips to mimic the sound of a kiss. It was an easy thing to confuse, so she'd never bothered to correct him. "If that is your preference however, I am willing to overlook it."

It wasn't so much that his face was splashed with a tint of color then, after her curt little explanation, his face was painted a bright red. After all that time (and shit, how long had he been at Sofia? Over a year now?), he'd never once caught onto the fact the whole kissing thing might have been a faux. Out of sheer embarassment, he found himself laughing then, rubbing away at the back of his neck.

"A handshake would be too formal for us, don't you think?" The young man rambled off quickly, moving to shut the door firmly behind her. He took in a quick breath, fighting to regain his composure. "But I'll remember that..."

Thankfully, there weren't many others than the mademoiselle that he had chosen to greet in such a way. "Between us," Jason said, a warm, sly smile returning to him. "I think we could keep it going."

Ahh. It wasn't too polite, but she couldn't help but delight in that look on his face. She'd have to tease him more often. Elodie stepped in with a light nod of her head, glancing around the small apartment, drinking in the small space. Even compared to the school dormitories, it was modest, but clean, cozy, simple. She preferred that over the extravagance of suites or luxury dorms. "Between us, I do not think I would mind," Elodie answered, casting him a look over her shoulder. "You have a charming home." There was a small cottage in Normandy where she'd stay for a night or two while on business, not much spacier than Jason's quaint studio. It reminded her of that same intimate, comfortable atmosphere.

Another laugh escaped him then, quiet and breathless, as he leaned back off against the door and made his way back to her side. He was glad the two of them were on the same page, at least. "Is it now?" Was charming the right word? Golden eyes shot around the room before looming back towards the girl. "I'd give you the grand tour, but there's so much, I don't think we'd have the time." Thank God he'd managed to make the place look somewhat respectable, at least. "We might have to settle for some other plans."

"Understandable," she answered in kind with a light nod of her head. How disappointing. Others might have thought of it as cramped, but something like this was all the space you needed. The shelves, the sleek violin propped up in the corner, the small table with just enough room for the both of them, the way the light filtered in through the window. She walked to the center of the room, twirling to take the rest of it in, breathing in the light aroma from the dinner he'd prepared and the candle he'd lit. "Perhaps after supper."

Elodie let her eyes wander over the table, two bowls, two plates, and one bottle. Simple, but all the makings of another pleasant evening ahead of them. Dinner together had become normal, routine, and she'd almost grown accustomed to gourmet restaurants and candlelit tables, but now, here, in his home... She felt an out-of-place twinge of relief in her chest. You couldn't call it a casual atmosphere, but it felt like they'd moved past some small veneer of formality.

Breathing space. It was a kilogram of weight off her shoulders. Even if it was just by one gram, some of that crushing pressure had been let out of the room, to not have to present herself as flawless. Even if it was just one millimeter, some of that impossible distance had been closed. For her, even if she was rehearsing every move in her head beforehand, it was enough. With Jason, she could relax.

Her expression didn't change as she stood by the table, meeting his eyes. "Thank you for inviting me over, Monsieur Wright."

He hadn't realized exactly how long he'd been softly staring away at her from his spot, propped up against the kitchen counter. Elodie, as far as he knew, was always elegant, regal, polite - the perfect sort of poster girl that only existed in the movies. Of course, the thought had occurred to him it might as well have been a facade, the same sort of beautiful disguise he had already fallen for once before... and had long since promised himself he wouldn't fall for again.

And yet, Jace couldn't help himself all the same. There was just something about her that drew him in, but he couldn't quite put a finger on it. He wasn't the type to dwell on those sort of thoughts for long anyways. "The pleasure is mine, Miss Motte." He couldn't help but shoot a quick wink her way, pulling out a chair and offering her a place to sit.

After months and months of top tier, gourmet meals however, he was almost worried his little throw-together would be enough to make her grab her things and head out the door. The young man had even went out of his way to make sure it had all the makings, even. Salad for greens. Wine was the fruit filling (obviously). Pasta made for an easy helping of grains, the cheese with it filled the dairy line.

He was starting to talk himself back into complete confidence once it struck him: he'd forgotten the protein. Mooother fuckkerr.

She wouldn't mind too much, he quickly reminded himself, stowing away his unease and holding out a hand to her in offering. "I'm sorry, I didn't have better of a meal to offer."

When he took his seat, that was her cue, slipping into the chair on the other side of him, a light smile on her face. "Don't apologize. That would be insulting." She took a fork and scraped some of the macaroni from the bowl onto her plate, and then heaped on a side of salad. "The food looks delicious, and there is something special about a homemade meal." It was the same with making someone a card instead of buying one at a store. Elodie lifted up the bottle, tipping it to pour some into his glass, and then into hers. "I feel very spoiled that you would spend all this effort for something like this."

He hadn't realized exactly how worried he'd been about the entire ordeal until she dismissed his jaded thoughts entirely. For a few moments, the young man said nothing, wearing a warm smile and grabbing a large helping of supper for himself. "And here you had me scared I wouldn't meet your gourmet standards," Jason teased gently, raising his own glass once she'd filled it with a fair amount of wine. "For you, I'd say this was nothing." He held his drink up to her, a small formal toast, as usual.

She gave a light smile, dipping her head. "Are my tastes so intimidating?" she asked, sinking her fork into the macaroni. "It is good to see I am, how do you put it... Keeping you on your toes?" Elodie lifted up her glass and met his eyes from across the table, warmth spreading to her cheeks, and clinked her drink against his. "A la tienne."

Elodie brought the glass up to her lips in a small sip and set it down, turning to her food. It was far from five-star presentation, but she wasn't so pretentious that she expected something like that. She took in a mouthful of macaroni.

Just macaroni and cheese.

"It tastes wonderful."

He did his best to retreat that grin of his, softly clinking his glass against hers and pulling it back, taking a far longer drink than he probably should have. The young man thought nothing of it, sitting his the sleek ware back down and starting away at his meal. "Glad to hear it," Jason said, seeming as genuinely relieved as ever, taking a bite of the macaroni thoughtfully and giving them some quiet time to eat before speaking again. "I don't think I've ever exactly been a good cook... My brother and I tried to make a candy pizza once when we were kids, with chocolate toppings and all the fixings." He pulled a funny face, giving some explanation of showing just about how well that went.

Although the taste wasn't exactly five-star material, it was still one of the more fine, creative things he ever made. "I don't imagine you could top that?" The Guardian asked, his voice light and teasing. Everyone did stupid things when they were young, but he figured it'd be harder to beat that beauty of a meal.