On their way to Bambouche, the party stops by a restaurant. A nice meal is had, the sun is setting, the day is winding down.
Until Siffrin sees the couples' deluxe dessert special on the menu.
"Quick, someone pretend to be bonded with me!" Siffrin slaps the menu down with a sweaty palm, fire in his eye and maybe a little drool on his chin.
Odile's hand is on Isabeau's shoulder with the speed and expertise of a handler whose dog was just offered bacon.
"Isabeau," She speaks calm and quiet, as Mirabelle and Bonnie scoot in close to Siffrin, oo-ing and aa-ing at the lavishly illustrated confectionary. "Wait just a moment."
"Madame..." Isa whines with such a shake to both voice and legs (had he really already been on his feet?), that Odile returns to the dog metaphor. She nods her head towards the three at the other end of the table.
They all look as desperate as Isa does right now, starry-eyed and giddy as they point out the obscene number of strawberries, the generous portion of vanilla-bean ice cream, and ooh is that lava cake? It's huge, but they can afford it at 50% off!
"I know you need this like a drowning man needs air," Odile doesn't even keep her tone down this time, she's hardly the only one with at least one eye. "but consider:"
Siffrin, Mirabelle, and Bonnie look up at them, curious.
"It would be hilarious to see Siffrin and Mirabelle fail at this spectacularly."
Silence falls across the table. Hands shake. A dry throat tries to swallow.
Isa quietly sits back down in his chair.
"S-sorry, Sif..." Isa scratches the back of his neck sheepishly.
"Wait wait wait Isa hold on, we could still--"
"Ah-ah, Isabeau made his decision. Don't be a sore loser now."
"Oh Change--okay, okay I can do this. We can do this, Siffrin!"
"Belle, Belle! Give Frin one of your earrings!"
"... Oh no my ears aren't pierced, why did I never pierce my ears??"
"Just, uh... stick it on your cloak? That might be obvious enough! I think!"
"Okay, yeah--w-wait, what's our story?"
"Story? We need a--oh Change of course we need a backstory! What if they ask us how long we've been bonded?"
"We'll just, we can, um--"
"The waiter's coming back, quick hurry up!!"
A waitress stands next to a portly man in a fine dress shirt, the two of them watching the commotion as the new guy (oh, poor Oliver) tries his best to handle delivering a final dessert order to Vaugarde's Saviors--and finding out Housemaiden Mirabelle is, apparently, betrothed.
He's handling it about as well as his previous interactions, having been ordered not to call attention to the heroes' identity or fame, give them some space to breathe. Things certainly would go a lot smoother if he had any semblance of a poker face, but at least three of them seem to trust his feigned ignorance.
The Housemaiden and her companion with the cloak look like they're about to melt off the table by the time Oliver starts walking off with an empty tray. The kid with them is already digging in, picking off strawberries and laughing uproariously while the tall gentleman across from them vibrates in fits of giggles.
"... Do they know... we would have given them the cake for free...?"
