“Oh, good, then you can put that forward to something more useful to a college student,” Mother beamed, making Njáll appear absolutely pleasant, “and that does explain why you are not as tipsy as some of us here. Don’t worry, dear. Age limits are nonexistent in this building, so I do hope you enjoy the rest that we have coming. Admittedly, Blæc here did not want alcohol in the restaurant at all, but I could not do without. Plus, it generates lots of guests. If you fall on hard times, there are only three professions that you know will pay off: sex, alcohol and politics, so we are well safe from the economy.”

Blæc did have to concede to that and what Mother failed to mention, thankfully, was that they had two out of those three in this place, though he did not have to like it. He also did not like the fact that he was now feeling somewhat drunk himself, despite having no spirits in his system. He blinked a couple of times and rattled his head ever so casually to prevent drawing eyes, but Njáll’s orbs flicked over to him and Mother smiled slightly behind his hands, before refocusing back on Alexa. He, however, was just as observant as her, if not more so, and was not too far gone yet. He glowered, suspecting something in one of his glasses, but knowing it would not kill him, since she needed him to stay alive herself. What he could not figure out was why she did so, when he would be going to bed soon anyway.

Mother perked up to Vincent’s interest and beamed, “It was Blæc’s idea; always liked those old movies like the Godfather and black-and-white detective movies where Hollywood made the women swoon. He purchased it with his and his mother’s money about two years ago, the latter of whom I represent.” Blæc, being only sixteen, but looking quite older in that suit, could get by on most conversations with such numbers. However, revealing his preference of movies made him blush a little or perhaps it was whatever she put in his drink. “I do have to say that the romantic atmosphere is still working, if she brought you here,” Mother winked, emphasizing on Alexa’s intentions.

“It would be a little more so with candlelight,” Iudicael murmured, smiling lightly, “but not enough room on the table.” He glanced up to their individual chandelier and noted, “Although, I could see the appeal. The outside tables have candles, torches and flowers.” He slid his eyes back to Alexa and smiled childishly, patting her forearm, “I could show you.”

“It would be a little more so with you wearing a suit like everyone else. You are not exempt from the dress code,” Mother scolded tonelessly, “not that there is one.” Iudicael tugged the front of his shirt as if he had no idea that it was inappropriate and then shrugged, dropping it from his pinched fingers. The blond glowered with false indignation, “Blæc, don’t you think you could have ordered decently-sized tables?”

Blæc’s rolled his eyes and it made his head spin. He held onto it gently and encouraged himself to yawn, so it seemed like he merely needed to be excused. “I am not purchasing a table that belongs in a king’s castle. We are not passing plates and diseases from hand to hand like some buffet. These are more practical and safer.” She really was from another century or world altogether, if she thought it would be reasonable in this day and society.

Mother pursed Njáll’s lips in scoff, but turned his face to concern, “Son, if you are exhausted, we will move aside.” Blæc squinted his eyes and tilted his head to Iudicael with instructions to protect their newcomers from any danger. Iudicael made a pointed, playful joke about keeping his eyes on their female guest and Blæc nudged him to behave; she was only eighteen and had a beau. Isidoro and Mother scooted out of the booth, and Mother gripped her son’s arm. He tensed and she smiled, turning to their guests. “If you will excuse us, I will make sure he gets to bed safety. I can’t have him driving like this.”