The Demon, the Witch, and the Klyntar (RP)
@smolcuriouskitten (Based on this event)
It was a comparatively rare occasion that Eddie would suggest taking Rockelle out on a date. There were a variety of reasons to sway the other direction. In the first place, he was a decent cook. It was always a point of amused contention between them when he would say this, as she enjoyed pointing out that the first thing he'd ever served to her was a bowl of milk... to which he would remark that in his defense, she'd been a kitten at the time. Since then, he'd taken advantage of many an opportunity to flex his culinary muscles. His kitchen now had half a dozen cookbooks on a shelf beneath hanging cabinetry, and he made a point of preparing half his weekly meals straight from those books. He would probably never rise to the level of sous chef, but he could make a decent roux.
Meanwhile, his Other was entertainingly chaotic in the kitchen, capable of reading the books and absorbing the information to a greater degree than Eddie but still determined to chart His own course in the culinary space. Eddie could no longer count on all his fingers and toes the number of times he'd awoken to the thrashing of tentacles from his own body, reaching through the bedroom door and into the kitchen, where they were busily preparing a meal for Eddie's sake (and His own). Now that Rocky was added to the mix, those occasions had only become all the more numerous in His never-ending bid to impress her and earn more cuddle time.
And all that was only half the equation. The level of success Rocky had achieved in her career was such that avoiding paparazzi was at the very least a part-time job. It was more easily achieved with a little hint of magic, yes, but Eddie and his Other understood that magic had certain boundaries and rules, and tended to push back when exercised to benefit the few or the one. Eddie didn't pretend to understand magic in the least, but his symbiote had encountered any number of magical beings throughout His travels... it was enough that He knew to be wary of those who would use it too blatantly.
Then, of course, there was the event of Valentine's Day itself, a shameless cash grab by corporations and eateries that couldn't stand to let the calendar just breath a while after the stress of winter holidays. That, on its own merit, would have been more than enough for Eddie to simply plan ahead, make a killer meal (and maybe even alongside Venom), and just stay in with Rocky with a movie and a huge box of dark chocolate.
But this was a rare occasion. After the rousing success of his series of investigative articles on the fabled “Frisco Maneater” three months ago, completely with his own camera work (which was to say, with some modest assistance from his Other), he’d been given a fine bonus by the Chronicle. He’d tucked the money away immediately and set himself about seeking reservations; he’d known even then that he wanted to treat Rocky to dining that was maybe a little finer than his own. It had already been established between them that anything Eddie or Venom made was with love… but that didn’t mean They didn’t like to try to pamper Their girl every now and then.
The question had then become what table would be open. And the answer had come in the form of Crimson Nights, a fine dining establishment on the top level of one of downtown’s commercial skyscrapers. Open concept dining room, windows all around – one could see nearly the entirety of San Francisco’s skyline from virtually any seat in the place. A seat worth hundreds? Most certainly. But the money was really the only point of exclusivity. The restaurant had yet to become so snobbish that it would turn away some paying customers in favor of others. And the food was reputed to be divine. Not a single dish on the menu was rated beneath three stars by either professional critics or average consumers.
In short: the perfect venue. Or so was Eddie’s opinion when he’d made the reservation three months in advance. Maybe, finally, it’d be a Valentine’s Day worth the celebration.
They were dressed to the nines. He'd even hired a driver and a car to bring them to the restaurant, and nobody from the tabloids seemed to be interested. They'd made it to the queue and were on their way to be seated within two minutes of their arrival.
Everything was going perfectly.
But if that was the case… why was Rocky’s face beginning to cloud over as they were led to their table?
Eddie followed her line of sight. All he could see that might have caught her notice was a tall, handsome, clean-shaven man of dusky skin and dark, shoulder-length hair that looked maybe even more voluminous than Rocky's, if such a thing were possible. He was well-dressed and appeared to be addressing another table with a pad and pen in hand... a waiter, he surmised.
Eddie tilted his head at Rocky as they were seated, offering a quick smile and a word of thanks to the hostess as she said that someone would be along soon to take their orders for drinks and appetizers. But the expression on Rocky's face was only continuing to darken with each passing moment.
“Hey babe?” he asked, his tone measured but concerned. “Everything okay?”
