*For her part, Amrita's lost in the tartare. It may come with capers and lemon and salt, and on a fancy toast point on a fancy plate in a fancy restaurant, but it's still meat, still flesh, even with the savagery of it tucked politely out of sight. And the same goes for her: Amrita's manners are impeccable, but she closes her eyes just a fraction longer than a blink, the high-necked bodice of her dress rising and falling just a little faster than it ought to. She can't resist, and no wonder. The small indulgences she carved out for herself at the Leaky--a cigarette in the bathtub, almond oil and rosewater for her hair, a plate of liver on certain weeks, if Miss Fletcher wasn't around--they sustained her, like air pockets might a trapped diver. And now, she's not accustomed to moderating such things, and they haven't been around long enough to grow stale. And of course there's Evan, who is in no business so much as the business of indulging her. And don't they generally end up hurrying home, when they've dined here, if hurry is even an adequate word for it--
But that pulls her right up short; then, she notices Remus' polite disquiet, and then understands it, and her face falls a bit: oh dear, I've been very rude. So she sets at once, if a bit dizzily, to fixing things.*
--the baked brie en croute's wonderful, if that's your sort of thing---
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Date: 2011-09-29 08:32 pm (UTC)But that pulls her right up short; then, she notices Remus' polite disquiet, and then understands it, and her face falls a bit: oh dear, I've been very rude. So she sets at once, if a bit dizzily, to fixing things.*
--the baked brie en croute's wonderful, if that's your sort of thing---
Did you find anything in the Alley today, Evan?