The room held a tension unlike what usually enraptured the two men, the only sounds being the pattering rain and the occasional scrape of steel on ceramic. Ambrose ate quietly, occasionally pausing to sip his wine.
“I must admit, I rarely cook for others,” He said quietly upon swallowing, glancing down at his plate. “How are you finding it?”
Ambrose levelled Will with curious stare, though something else lingered in his vision that was all too unfamiliar. A slight glint in his eye seemed to throw the atmosphere off, as if the man knew something Will didn’t.
[:3]
Will wasn't quite sure of what to make with the tension, feeling it as something familiar, if in smaller doses and with different people before. One person. One he couldn't afford to think about. Still, he trudged through it, focusing on the thankfully delicious food and alcohol, pomegranate lips and electric blue eyes meshing with the brightness of the meal. He looked up as Ambrose spoke, swallowing his bite before responding, "I couldn't tell, it feels like you do it often. It's very well done, I appreciate it- Haven't had a meal this nice in..... a long time honestly." It'd be nicer if he could figure out what the fuck was going on, but that wasn't relevant at the moment. Probably. "Are you enjoying it so far?"
