'Hour thirty?' Francis amended as he glanced at his food. He would have the food done in an hour for sure, but he would still need time to meet up with Arthur. 'I'll meet you at the station and we can go from there if you want.' He didn't know where else to meet, although he wasn't sure how Arthur would feel about meeting a date in front of coworkers. Was he the sort to hide those sorts of things? Many a cop had lamented having to hide their sexuality to him before. Shaking his head, Francis went back to his food.

'Hour thirty is fine. I'll see you then at the station then.' Arthur had no problem having Francis come meet him at work. Some of the others at the station had people meet up with them all the time, whether they be for dates or just friends wanting to catch up. So he didn't see it being a problem. And he didn't really care if they knew what his sexuality was. Their opinions on the matter didn't matter to much to him.

After Francis finished cooking his meal, he portioned it all out into portable containers, wrapped in a fluffy towel to keep it all warm. He made sure to bring the write utensils and set off. He would make it just on time at this rate, and a perfect time for lunch at 12:45. Thankfully he woke up early enough to do the cooking. Once he arrived at the station, he spoke to a nice lady at the front and got someone to escort him to Arthur's desk.

"Good afternoon, mon cher," he called when he spotted the man, raising up the white bag he carried all the food in as he did so. "Is there a place we can eat?"

Arthur went through the rest of his patrol without to much happening. Got a few calls that were luckily settled quickly. They returned to the station at 12:15 and he went back to his desk to start on his paperwork. But he couldn't concentrate on what was in front of him. His eyes kept going up to the clock, watching the time move slowly. And finally Francis arrived. He stood when the Frenchman got close enough and thought about it. There was a place where the officers ate, but it was normally crowded. After a moment, he remembered that there were some rooms in the back that could be used to eat in but rarely were. Most preferred to eat in the main cafeteria room. "Yeah. Follow me." he told him, walking away and heading back towards the rooms.

Francis glanced this way and that as they walked, curious about the other man's work place. Although he considered himself more familiar with police stations than most, his experience was limited. Mostly, he just bailed his friends out after they got in trouble. Once they reached the back area, Francis set his bag on a table. "I know we talked about food before, so I thought I'd melt your heart in the way of the French--with food," he hummed. Out of the bag he pulled two pairs of containers to set in front of them. The loaf of bread he put in the middle. "Onion soup." He popped open a lid, letting the aroma escape and fill the room. "And Catalonian meatballs," he said as he opened the larger containers that held their entrees.

Arthur led Francis into the room and took seat at one side of the table. When he smelled the food, his stomach growled loudly, reminding him that he had forgotten to eat breakfast again that morning. "It smells good." he commented. That was the only compliment he was going to give him, he decided. No matter how good the food was. And judging by the smell it would be good. But it was against his policy to give out to many compliments. It would go against his image, after all.

"It doesn't only smell good, I hope," Francis said with one raised eyebrow. He pulled his own portions toward him and dipped into the still steaming soup. "I spent all of today so far cooking it, so I'm afraid I haven't tasted it yet myself. Go on, eat. You look famished." He was hungry himself as his day tended to start with lunch. The only eating he did was taste testing this and that as he cooked.

Arthur nodded and pulled his portion towards himself. He took a small bite of the soup to taste it. He wasn't going to admit it, but it was delicious. He then took a bite from the meatballs to taste and it was just as good. There was no way he was saying it was one of the best things he's had in a while. Nope. Going to keep that to himself. "Its alright." He eventually stated, continuing to eat.

'Just alright' wounded Francis' pride, but he decided that Arthur's opinion must have been much higher than that because he ate with such gusto. No one would call his food less than amazing anyway. He ripped off a bit of the bread to dip in his soup, enjoying the taste. He did a marvelous job this time despite being rushed, though it could use a little more cheese. "Well, if you ever get a craving for good French food, I always enjoy cooking for an audience. Believe me, I have plenty more recipes to tempt your tongue!"

"I'll keep that in mind." Arthur told him. If he was honest with himself, French food wasn't his favorite. That would always go to good old English cooking. On the other hand, it wasn't his least favorite either. That went to fast food. Just walking past any type of fast food 'restaurant' made him feel sick and he refused to eat there. He'd rather starve. He did like foreign food though. If its made right though. He's had bad foreign food before. And some good kinds. So he was torn on the whole matter.

His own food certainly had to be better than the stuff English called food. He never could understand how seasoning could just vanish from a perfectly good dish and no one notice. Shaking his head, he moved on to his meatballs. Such a rustic meal reminded him of his great aunt's cooking and deserved savoring. "So how has your day been? Nothing too intense I hope."

"Its been pretty normal actually. I went on patrol this morning and that was mostly just driving around keeping an eye on things. Handled a few domestic disputes that were settled easily. Then came here and worked on some files. Now I'm here having lunch with you." Arthur said, eating the food slowly to enjoy the flavor.

"Ah, more eventful than my day, still," Francis hummed. "I'm afraid this is more or less the start of my day. Mon deiu I needed all that sleep too! You wouldn't believe the mess that went down at the club last night!" He groaned with a dramatic gesture. He didn't much want to talk about his job, especially when he'd have to return to it tonight, but the drama was still fresh in his mind. "Of course, I'm sure two men duking it out in the middle of the dance floor isn't strange to you."

"What happened?" Arthur asked. Sure two guys fighting wasn't new to him. It happened all of the time. But he wanted to hear Francis share something about his job. Even if it was something as simple as this. He still wanted to know. It sounded like it would be at least a little bit interesting, after all.

Expecting that Arthur heard stories like this all the time, Francis didn't expect him to be interested. If he was though, Francis wouldn't hesitate to share. "I'm not sure I can tell it all, but there's a guy who's come in a few times before to harass one of the dancers. He was up to no good again when this kid goes all...hero I guess? Picked a fight right in the middle of the dance floor! It's not like this is the first violent incident there, but really...I don't think either one of them was even drunk."

"Things like that happen a lot more often than one would think." Arthur said. He's had to break apart fights more often than he would have liked. Didn't matter if the people involved were drunk or not. "It's always nice to see someone willing to stand up for a complete stranger though." he added. That was seen a lot less often. He's noticed that people in this country were extremely rude, especially if they had been drinking.

Francis half smiled, not sure if he entirely agreed. "Since it was my friend in trouble, of course I'm glad someone helped him. Just because someone flaunts their ass for money doesn't mean they don't deserve respect, but hitting people like that...I also think is troublesome. Maybe it's different for you, having some familiarity with violence, but I think it is rarely the answer." Francis grimaced. He was a man of the arts, not a man with interest in brute force. "What's a hero if he jumps to using his fists so quickly?"

"He could have been provoked in some way. You should never assume something about someone without knowing the full story." Arthur said. Though he did agree with Francis that violence wasn't the answer. But he's seen so much of it that it barely fazes him anymore. That was a downside to this job. Violence wasn't something you want to be used to, after all.

Francis shook his head. Maybe it didn't matter if violence was the right choice then or not. His own colors were showing, his own weaknesses. Dragging a hand through the ponytail tied at the side of his neck, he let out a small groan. "Maybe I'm just a wimp or a new age hippie, but make love, not war," he said with a grin.

"I agree. If more people thought like that, then the world would be a much safer place. But with that thought, it doesn't really help my job much then does it?" Arthur asked, not really needing an answer. As much as he hated pointless war, he knew it was unavoidable. It was human nature to fight, after all.

"But wouldn't it be a lovely world if we didn't need cops?" Francis asked. A lovely, impossible sort of world, but a man could dream couldn't he? "It's nice to hear someone agree with me though. You have no idea how refreshing that is! My friends make fun of me and call me weak because I don't like to fight." Not that Francis minded. It did make him think highly of Arthur though for his point of view.

"My brothers are the same." Arthur told him. They're favorite way to bond was to either get drunk or get into a fistfight. Sometimes both. "I'm not a big fan of fighting. I always try to find a nonviolent way to handle a situation. But if properly pushed, I will take someone down. Another thing my brothers are aware of." The last time all of them were together they had a couple of drinks and somethings were said and fists were thrown and Arthur was pretty sure he might have broken one of their noses.

Francis winced at Arthur's story, but it wasn't like he could understand the sibling bond. Fighting, closeness--it sounded complicated. He sized up Arthur with his eye, nodding his head as he did so. Of course, that was just for show. He had him memory to tell him what Arthur looked like without those clothes, but he did like a second look. "Hmm, yes. I have no doubt you can take down most anyone you want to," he said with an appreciative hum. The other man may no have been some kind of muscle-bound giant, but he was no pudgy pencil pusher either.

Arthur could feel a light blush coming to his cheeks at Francis's words. And the way he said the words. "It's just part of the job." he muttered, looking down. He focused on his food, embarrassed. He noticed it was almost gone and slowed down in eating it so that he could really enjoy the flavor. He'd been so distracted by the conversation he hadn't noticed he had been eating. He discretely checked the clock, noticing they'd been back here longer than he thought. That showed that time flied when in good company and he didn't want the conversation to end yet.

"Unfortunately, my job only exercises my arms and my mouth," Francis said with a chuckle. He had to appreciate Arthur's job if it kept him looking wonderful. Francis himself had been talking more than eating. He found himself staring at the other man with a dreamy expression, chin on his palm and spoon hanging loosely from his fingers. Just thinking about the night they'd spent together and what lay under his uniform made Francis want another taste. "How long of a break can you take?"