He opened his eyes and squinted at her. “Never do that again.” *** He looked back at her. “I have a chef, yes.”
She dropped the bread on his face. *** She was wide-eyed, clearly in awe at this amount of wealth he was used to.
She laughed, falling back. *** "Your house is so cool. At my house, I have to cook and clean and do all the stuff. Also it's no way near as big as this."
He was also laughing, looking down and holding the bread above her threateningly. “Apologize.” *** He looked around as if he had never noticed the car before. “I... see. Do you want some money?”
She raised her hands. "Never!" *** She frowned, shaking her head. "No. I'm sorry if it seems like I'm asking."
She poked him in the ribs to tickle him. *** She seemed uncertain, since she didn't want to intrude. "Okay."
He gasped, rolling away. "You... ass!" * * * He sighed, rolling his neck to crack it. "What are you in the mood for?"
He huffed, tossing a popsicle at her. * * * He looked over at her in confusion. "Bagels. Huh. Okay. Baptiste makes an authentic New York bagel."
"By torturing me? You vixen." * * * "It means it's good. It's going to take a while, though. Are you sure you want a bagel for dinner?"
She grinned. "Ooh, vixen. That's a new one." *** She paused, before brightening. "Well, what do you like?"
"Oh? What do they normally call you?" he asked, leaning against the tree. * * * "I don't generally eat dinner," he said with a small shrug. "If I do, it's generally some kind of soup or something."
She raised an eyebrow at him. "They call me lots of things. Good and bad." *** She tilted her head at him playfully. "Soup à la Sylas?"
"Like what?" he asked. "Please provide evidence to back up your answer." * * * He raised an eyebrow. "Soup à la Sylas indicates that either I make the soup, or the soup is made of me. You know that I don't cook in this house, so that means you think that this soup is of me. I understand my appeal, but if you could tame your sexual innuendos, I would greatly appreciate it."
She laughed slightly, though it sounded a bit forced. "You name it." *** She sucked in air through her teeth. "That one hurt. You should know that I never mean to make jokes like that, for future reference. Also I don't speak French."
He paused, considering her before speaking again, his voice gentle. "Wonderful?" * * * "Pardon, mademoiselle. Il est si facile."
She flushed slightly, looking over at him. "That's.. That one isn't really used." *** She grinned playfully. "Are you showing off your language skills? I have no idea what you just said."
