Post by sylvan on Jul 1, 2015 17:39:42 GMT
{for context, check this thread out!}
So, as most of you will probably know, tp4e recently invited uwq out on a date. I agreed, with some insistence from envi and hm, to go along to observe. The rest, as they say, is history. Well, sort of. If it's history, then it's the kind of history that I'm about to post about.
So, in order to get a place at Di'Brezia's, which is the sort of placed that makes tp4e give an "impressed whistle," I had to get enough influence for a last-minute booking. How did I do that, you might ask. The answer, of course, was through the clever leverage of wealthy parents. The problem there was that validating rumours as seen on the one and only SuperHub didn't seem to pass muster as a good enough reason for my parents to provide me with what they reliably informed me was "an entire month's wages for some people." There was only one way to go. I needed a date.
As most of you will know, and as I have given up attempting to hide, I do in fact attend the Academy with the one and only Emily Choi, the most delightful person who I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. I figured that I'd ask her out, she'd say no, and then I could ask someone else without sabotaging any chances I had with the most amazing girl in the world. There was only one problem with my cunning plan. Emily said yes.
So there I was, half an hour later at 6:55, standing in the entrance to Di'Brezia's in my black tie, asking a waiter for my reserved table for two. Emily was at my shoulder, a stunning red dress setting off her beautiful brown eyes. Anyway, I digress. You don't want to hear about my love life, and, frankly, I don't to tell you about my love life. The important detail is this: sitting at the bar was non other than tp4e herself. At this point I could give a detailed description of our fabulous fellow poster, but I feel that she may not want me to. Needless to say, she looked much like her avatar, except that she was wearing a smart suit, and was perhaps a little older than that picture might imply (sorry tp4e, but it's true). A glance at the waiter's screen let me know that she had been waiting for uwq for ten minutes already.
Emily and I took our seats at a lovely little table on the upper balcony, immediately relishing the evening sun glistening off Lake Geneva below. Champagne and starters were served, both of which were delicious, and Emily launched into wonderful and sparkling conversation. I attempted, poorly, to keep up.
Twenty-five minutes later, at 7:20 on the dot, I spotted none other than uwq arriving down below, another close match to her avatar. Her jeans and hoodie were hardly fare for our splendid location, and I wondered somewhat what she was intending to do. Somewhere along the line, Emily queried what I was looking at, and I had to try and work out what she had just been talking about.
By the time they took their seats, uwq was wearing a fantastic purple dress and complimenting tp4e profusely on her suit. And when I say profusely, I mean profusely. I have literally no idea if she was being sincere or not, but oh the insincerity that resounded in the sheer volume of compliments. It was enough to make me wince, and to make Emily ask me what was wrong.
After I had finished making vague excuses to Emily, and uwq had finished complimenting tp4e on her suit, uwq began complaining to tp4e about the shade of her dress. She explained, at length, how she was sure tp4e had tried her best, and that the only possible supposition was that tp4e just didn't know her as well as she might have implied.
tp4e rejoined with the argument that it is eminently possible that she got it intentionally wrong, since getting everything right would clearly be weird. She extended this argument with her detailed knowledge of uwq's love of complaining. This particular line of reasoning was met with the full ire of the extremely loquacious uwq, who complained that she doesn't love complaining, but rather that some people demand verbal evisceration by dint of their very existence.
At some point during this argument, Emily must have asked me what held my attention so raptly. I only know this because she asked the same question for the third time as the argument finished. I concentrated on salvaging my own rapidly nosediving date, while uwq flirted outrageously with the waiter.
Our main course arrived, and I somewhat lost track of the other date while eating and attempting to make amends for my earlier inattentiveness. I phased back into awareness in time to see uwq go for the white truffle-infused Scottish lobster with gold-leaf tuiles and sturgeon caviar foam, also known as the most expensive starter on the menu. tp4e ordered wine to match the starters, and I managed to catch uwq's description of it. "This wine is like the trickling of a distant brook. With traces of cheese. Are you getting cheese?" It was the same wine that we had had with our starter (I was trying to impress Emily), and I most certainly didn't get the cheese. I don't think tp4e did either.
As Emily and I wrapped up our main courses and moved onto the desert, tp4e and uwq ordered their own mains. uwq went for the four-part spread of slow-roasted partridge, guenea fowl, pheasant and quail, served on a bed of saffron quinoa with fois gras sorbet. Not the most expensive dish on the menu. No, it merely took second place. The wine that tp4e ordered for their main was met with my favourite uwq quote of the night, "This wine is like the howling of a lone werewolf on a winter's night. Subtle hints of nail varnish remover enhance the bouquet."
Interestingly, I don't believe that either tp4e or uwq disclosed their real names (not that I would reveal them here anyway). uwq kept referring to tp4e as "Mal," presumably short for Mallory, which is what she booked the table under. tp4e, on the other hand, referred to uwq as "q" for the entire evening, entirely ignoring the long list of names that uwq added to on a regular basis. I have no idea if any of these identities were real, and I shan't reveal them here just in case one of them is. I'm also pretty sure that uwq is not in fact the long-lost second cousin twice removed of one of the waiters, thought to have died in a tragic construction accident, no matter how much she attempted to convince the waiter in question otherwise at the time.
I might have been paying slightly too much attention to the scintillating back-and-forth two tables away, because I turned back to find that Emily had got up and left. I've tried to contact her since, but she won't even speak to me.
Anyway, enough about my life. Here comes the real drama. Shortly after uwq and tp4e had ordered their desserts (uwq went back to the most expensive option, choosing the dekopon panna cotta with crystallised vanilla and a cognac flambé), uwq was called away by none other than Avalon herself (or so she claimed). This left tp4e with an uneaten dessert, which she very kindly sent over to me (thank you very much, by the way, it was delicious. As was that glass of wine, which I am *sure* was from you!)
Anyway, I paid and left, and I can only assume that tp4e did much the same a few minutes later. I hung around to try and speak to her, but she must have left by a different exit (how did you avoid me, tp4e?).
So, as most of you will probably know, tp4e recently invited uwq out on a date. I agreed, with some insistence from envi and hm, to go along to observe. The rest, as they say, is history. Well, sort of. If it's history, then it's the kind of history that I'm about to post about.
So, in order to get a place at Di'Brezia's, which is the sort of placed that makes tp4e give an "impressed whistle," I had to get enough influence for a last-minute booking. How did I do that, you might ask. The answer, of course, was through the clever leverage of wealthy parents. The problem there was that validating rumours as seen on the one and only SuperHub didn't seem to pass muster as a good enough reason for my parents to provide me with what they reliably informed me was "an entire month's wages for some people." There was only one way to go. I needed a date.
As most of you will know, and as I have given up attempting to hide, I do in fact attend the Academy with the one and only Emily Choi, the most delightful person who I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. I figured that I'd ask her out, she'd say no, and then I could ask someone else without sabotaging any chances I had with the most amazing girl in the world. There was only one problem with my cunning plan. Emily said yes.
So there I was, half an hour later at 6:55, standing in the entrance to Di'Brezia's in my black tie, asking a waiter for my reserved table for two. Emily was at my shoulder, a stunning red dress setting off her beautiful brown eyes. Anyway, I digress. You don't want to hear about my love life, and, frankly, I don't to tell you about my love life. The important detail is this: sitting at the bar was non other than tp4e herself. At this point I could give a detailed description of our fabulous fellow poster, but I feel that she may not want me to. Needless to say, she looked much like her avatar, except that she was wearing a smart suit, and was perhaps a little older than that picture might imply (sorry tp4e, but it's true). A glance at the waiter's screen let me know that she had been waiting for uwq for ten minutes already.
Emily and I took our seats at a lovely little table on the upper balcony, immediately relishing the evening sun glistening off Lake Geneva below. Champagne and starters were served, both of which were delicious, and Emily launched into wonderful and sparkling conversation. I attempted, poorly, to keep up.
Twenty-five minutes later, at 7:20 on the dot, I spotted none other than uwq arriving down below, another close match to her avatar. Her jeans and hoodie were hardly fare for our splendid location, and I wondered somewhat what she was intending to do. Somewhere along the line, Emily queried what I was looking at, and I had to try and work out what she had just been talking about.
By the time they took their seats, uwq was wearing a fantastic purple dress and complimenting tp4e profusely on her suit. And when I say profusely, I mean profusely. I have literally no idea if she was being sincere or not, but oh the insincerity that resounded in the sheer volume of compliments. It was enough to make me wince, and to make Emily ask me what was wrong.
After I had finished making vague excuses to Emily, and uwq had finished complimenting tp4e on her suit, uwq began complaining to tp4e about the shade of her dress. She explained, at length, how she was sure tp4e had tried her best, and that the only possible supposition was that tp4e just didn't know her as well as she might have implied.
tp4e rejoined with the argument that it is eminently possible that she got it intentionally wrong, since getting everything right would clearly be weird. She extended this argument with her detailed knowledge of uwq's love of complaining. This particular line of reasoning was met with the full ire of the extremely loquacious uwq, who complained that she doesn't love complaining, but rather that some people demand verbal evisceration by dint of their very existence.
At some point during this argument, Emily must have asked me what held my attention so raptly. I only know this because she asked the same question for the third time as the argument finished. I concentrated on salvaging my own rapidly nosediving date, while uwq flirted outrageously with the waiter.
Our main course arrived, and I somewhat lost track of the other date while eating and attempting to make amends for my earlier inattentiveness. I phased back into awareness in time to see uwq go for the white truffle-infused Scottish lobster with gold-leaf tuiles and sturgeon caviar foam, also known as the most expensive starter on the menu. tp4e ordered wine to match the starters, and I managed to catch uwq's description of it. "This wine is like the trickling of a distant brook. With traces of cheese. Are you getting cheese?" It was the same wine that we had had with our starter (I was trying to impress Emily), and I most certainly didn't get the cheese. I don't think tp4e did either.
As Emily and I wrapped up our main courses and moved onto the desert, tp4e and uwq ordered their own mains. uwq went for the four-part spread of slow-roasted partridge, guenea fowl, pheasant and quail, served on a bed of saffron quinoa with fois gras sorbet. Not the most expensive dish on the menu. No, it merely took second place. The wine that tp4e ordered for their main was met with my favourite uwq quote of the night, "This wine is like the howling of a lone werewolf on a winter's night. Subtle hints of nail varnish remover enhance the bouquet."
Interestingly, I don't believe that either tp4e or uwq disclosed their real names (not that I would reveal them here anyway). uwq kept referring to tp4e as "Mal," presumably short for Mallory, which is what she booked the table under. tp4e, on the other hand, referred to uwq as "q" for the entire evening, entirely ignoring the long list of names that uwq added to on a regular basis. I have no idea if any of these identities were real, and I shan't reveal them here just in case one of them is. I'm also pretty sure that uwq is not in fact the long-lost second cousin twice removed of one of the waiters, thought to have died in a tragic construction accident, no matter how much she attempted to convince the waiter in question otherwise at the time.
I might have been paying slightly too much attention to the scintillating back-and-forth two tables away, because I turned back to find that Emily had got up and left. I've tried to contact her since, but she won't even speak to me.
Anyway, enough about my life. Here comes the real drama. Shortly after uwq and tp4e had ordered their desserts (uwq went back to the most expensive option, choosing the dekopon panna cotta with crystallised vanilla and a cognac flambé), uwq was called away by none other than Avalon herself (or so she claimed). This left tp4e with an uneaten dessert, which she very kindly sent over to me (thank you very much, by the way, it was delicious. As was that glass of wine, which I am *sure* was from you!)
Anyway, I paid and left, and I can only assume that tp4e did much the same a few minutes later. I hung around to try and speak to her, but she must have left by a different exit (how did you avoid me, tp4e?).
That's adorable X) and ndrwhlming was CONTACTED by AVALON (probably)
