A Very Greek Night || Jolly - September 7th
She nodded, finally swallowing as he spoke, her hand covering her mouth to make sure there was no remaining food in her teeth before she smiled back at him. Molly was thankful that he too had started eating and, though admittedly taking larger bites than she, the Ravenclaw continued to try to eat. It was delicious, she hadn’t lied; Greek food was something she had seen in restaurants in Muggle London, but had never tried it. If it was all anything like this, Molly could certainly see herself eating it in small portions when she actually made the time to eat.
"It’s… it’s really good," she laughed softly,running her hand through her hair, "I never knew you were such an excellent cook… or that you liked cooking in general…"
Molly watched as Jase took another sip of his drink and took the opportunity to refill her cup, sipping at the alcohol once more. She was somewhat surprised at his question, having not expected him to question her again about the topic she’d mentioned earlier, “Oh… um…” she started, trying to figure out a way to explain to him that didn’t make her sound like an idiot, “Since I’m one of the eldest children in the family… Dad used to get me to take photos of Lucy and Albus and everyone, just for family photo albums and things… Because he said I was the most responsible… So I guess it sort of came from there? Before Grandad died, he gave me a muggle camera he’d fixed in his shed and I didn’t put it down the whole summer before he passed…”
Jase finds himself watching Molly as she eats before looking down at his own plate to shovel another large bite into his own mouth. Despite the improvisations, the dish tastes like the sea, like Greece; like home. At Molly's first statement, the blue-eyed boy looks up from his meal to grin and shrug but he's more interested in her answer to his question than responding to what she says about his abilities in the kitchen. In his mind, there's plenty of time to come back to himself. It's the redhead who he wants to crack open further, like a fresh oyster sealed tightly after so long unbothered at the bottom of the ocean.
"It's a wonderful aspiration," Jase responds kindly and softly. He's aware of the passing of Arthur Weasley. For a moment there's a passing seed of guilt in the Slytherin's gut for having brushed off the funeral service his father had told him he should attend as his guest. At the time he told his father he had better things to occupy his time with. Truthfully, death by old age feels like such a daunting thought that the last thing Jase wished for was to be struck by the idea in such a concrete and unavoidable way.
Reaching across the table, the young man lays his hand to rest over Molly's smaller one and looks intently at her in order to catch her gaze. "Please, I would love to see some of your photography one of these days. I'm sure they are as fantastic as the girl behind the camera." His voice is soft, tender, and deep as he speaks the words. There is no way to convey his condolences for her grandfather's death, given how little comprehension he himself has with it, but he can show the greatest interest in her because there's no need to fake anything in that case.
