After the dance, Azrael gently guided her back to the table. He placed his hand gently on her waist, then pulled her chair out for her again, just as carefully as before, and Athena smiled up at before sitting down.
Only after she was settled did he return to his own seat across from her.
Just the sight of her glowing, smiling made his chest tighten for no reason he cared to explain.
A moment later, a waiter approached.
He was tall and composed, his blond hair neatly styled as he stood straight and professional. He offered them a polite smile and spoke smoothly in French.
"Bonsoir, monsieur, mademoiselle. Que désirez-vous commander ce soir ?"
(Good evening, sir, miss. What would you like to order tonight?)
Azrael smiled lightly and replied fluently in French.
"Pour moi, le poulet grillé, fromage, pommes de terre rôties, salade légère et un verre de vin."
(For me, grilled chicken, cheese, roasted potatoes, a light salad, and a glass of wine.)
