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"My tenth birthday for my license, and before that.." Nadja studied a patch of air over Seth's shoulder "I really couldn't tell you, except that Ophion hatched when I was five. They were always around and I was always interested."

The flesh parted easily under her fork, gleaming with natural oils. Slightly tart, the orange glaze was a well-balanced counterpoint to its rich flavor and complemented the crisp, sweet taste of the wine. Its slightly acidic notes flavor made Nadja's brows arch. "The same as your Typhlosion now?" she inquired thoughtfully, interest sparking. "When exactly-?"

The television was muted to allow the less business-minded diners to enjoy themselves in peace, but white closed captioning scrolled across the bottom on black ticker-tape lines. A greying man with heavy, severe features and a thick mustache was in the background as the younger businessman spoke to the cameras. His hair was dark and shaggy, almost like a barely-tamed mane, and rather at odds with his crisp navy blue suit.

"More or less, yes," Nadja acknowledged the 'typical trainer' remark, but her interest had indeed shifted. Her eyes narrowed in consideration. "She might be.. hm." She tapped a finger thoughtfully on the stem of her wine glass thoughtfully. "Would you mind if-"

Whatever request she'd been about to make was interrupted by a Corphish carapace landing in her lap. The redhead leaned back as smaller chips of bright red shell caught in the ruched folds of her bodice, a startled noise ending in an agitated hiss of breath as she quickly lifted her napkin by the corners to set it on the table.

An elderly couple at a nearby table looked over at the commotion.

Brows furrowed, Seth's date flashed him an irritated look, then followed his gaze to the television to see what on earth had prompted the ballistic crustacean.

The footage was so.. mundane. No corporate scandal, no bankruptcy, just a peaceable business transaction, but Seth was completely riveted. The redhead's sharp grey eyes took note of little details - the faces of the men, the channel number in the corner of the screen, and the way Seth was holding his fork like he wanted to stab someone - and filed them neatly away in memory.

When Seth turned back to the table Nadja was eying her dress critically for stains and the news had moved on to a massive Corsola swarm off Makko's bay. "It's all right," she replied distractedly, then glanced up as she rose from her chair, brows arched at the apology in silent inquiry and mild surprise.

That was uncharacteristic.

'Are you feeling all right?' was an unnecessary question - clearly he wasn't, and would prefer to save face. "I'll go take care of this," the redhead said instead, excusing herself and heading for the ladies' room with a hint of the same defiant poise she'd worn in her torn stealth suit.

She was gone about ten minutes. In that time, a waiter discreetly removed the Corphish-filled napkin and replaced it with a freshly folded one, slipping away like a well-dressed ghost.

It only took five to remove the remaining flecks of shell from her bodice. The remaining half she spent on needless little grooming tasks to round the time out to an even ten - enough to give him the time to calm down and compose himself. Let him think she was fussing over her dress.

When Nadja strolled back toward the table, her bearing gave no suggestion that the incident had ever happened.

Nadja smiled briefly - cordially - at him in greeting, then slipped into her chair again and set about unfolding the new napkin and smoothing the linen over her lap.

"Your Typhlosion," she prompted with a slight upward quirk of her mouth, lifting her fork to spear a section of Seaking. "I'd be interested in having a look at her."

"So I do," the redhead agreed, focusing on her meal again. This much could be said - Seth had chosen an excellent restaurant.

The rest of dinner passed without incident.


"Well," Nadja said when they were in the privacy of the car again. "That was.."

She trailed off and looked at Seth, her brow furrowing as she tried to find an appropriate descriptor that wasn't a blatant lie.

There was a pause, then a brief burst of laughter from Nadja at the sudden coarse language. "Yes," she agreed bluntly. "That didn't suit either of us."

The redhead relaxed into her seat with a quiet sigh and closed her eyes. When they opened again they were thoughtful, watching the dark trees and coastline give way to scrubland. "H'm," she murmured to herself, then looked back at the tall man at the wheel with a rueful half-smile.

"But I do appreciate that you went to all that effort."