[WoD] Air on the G String (complete)

[Sansa]

Her hair fell back into place, and she laughed at his words. "You are much too kind. My taste buds might be a bit proteleriat for you, but I love Italian, so anything along those lines is golden."

Sansa straightened upright as well, following her host as he led her back out of the room.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

I turned, looking over my shoulder. “Proteleriat? Sansa...” I gave a little pout, as if hurt, then chuckled and carried on walking into the lounge. “You're in luck, Italian is one of the few cuisines I've dabbled in. Thank goodness you didn't say lobster.” I grinned, then added as an afterthought. “I ate the last one this morning.”

I paused at the entrance to the kitchen. “Why don't you put some music on?” I nodded towards the sound system on the lounge wall. “I don't think there's anything too embarrassing there.” The stack of CD's next to the player was a mix of jazz, soul, blues and a little classical, with a few less than contemporary pop and rock numbers dotted here and there.

I vanished into the kitchen, leaving Sansa to her choice.

[Sansa]

She studied the stack of CDs before settling on some light jazz. Popping the CD into player, she ran her fingers through her hair, pulling them through some light tangles.

"So, you cook then?" she called from her position, studying a painting on the wall. "Or do I have someone else to thank for the meal?" Sansa grinned, looking over her shoulder at the empty doorway to the kitchen.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

“A little,” I lent into view in the doorway. “I'd feel guilty having all of this,” I motioned around the kitchen, to the multitude of utensils, ingredients and other miscellanea, “...if I couldn't cook something.” Louis Armstrong came on the stereo and I smiled, as I turned back into the kitchen. “You aren't a vegetarian, are you?”

[Sansa]

She laughed, "Oh no, I love my cheeseburgers too much to give it up. I just try not to get too attached to farm animals."

Sansa sidled over to the doorway, leaning against it and watching Gabriel move around the kitchen. "Need some help?"

[Gabriel Rodermark]

“Oh, no. This is my treat.” I pulled open a couple of cupboard doors open, searching for the necessary ingredients for our little feast. “You can help by uncorking the wine, if you like?”

[Sansa]

"Certainly." She walked over to the bottle he'd indicated, and picked up the corkscrew, pulling the foil off the top of the wine.

Examining the label, she couldn't help but be impressed at the vintage, but kept her observations to herself. No need to become a wide-eyed peasant. Sansa twisted the corkscrew into the cork two-thirds of the way, then placed one side of the screw against the lip of the bottle and pulled gently up on the other end. The leverage pulled the cork up most of the way.

She wiggled it the rest of the way free by hand. "Glassware?" Sansa sniffed the cork, a smile on her lips.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

“In the cupboard just above you to the left. I hope it's to your taste...” I pulled out a couple of pots, though nothing that would give away what I was planning to make. “I'm afraid you'll have to step back into the lounge now. Too many cooks...”

[Sansa]

"Ah, I see." She stretched up to the cupboard, taking down two thin glass goblets. "Don't want to reveal your methods, eh?" Sansa winked, holding a goblet diagonally to pour about an inch of the Bordeaux into the bottom of it. She did the same for the second glass, and found Gabriel had laid out a stopper for the wine, which she put into the bottle.

A swirl, and a sip - "Oh, that's fantastic. Yes, yes, I'm leaving now." Sansa grinned and made herself scarce from the kitchen, reclining back onto the couch while she waited.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

I made quick work of preparing the dinner and it wasn't long before a pleasant aroma began to waft in from the kitchen in the lounge. Once or twice I popped my head around the doorway, to check that my company had not become tired – yet she seemed content to sip at the wine and enjoy the soulful sounds of Satchmo. After a time, when everything seemed right, I emerged with the fruits of my labour – a tray carrying two steaming plates.

“Il primo... penne amatriciana.” Pasta, in a tomato sauce with smoked bacon and basil. It was a relatively simple dish, but one that had proved popular time and time again. I placed the tray down on the low table in front of the couch on which Sansa sat. “I thought we might as well take dinner in here. It's far more comfortable.”

[Sansa]

She sat up, placing her wine glass on the table. "It smells delicious, Gabriel." Emile would never believe this. She wasn't sure she believed it, but the wine was making her feel quite comfortable. Not tipsy, of course, just a little more relaxed.

He retrieved her glass from the table to refill it for her, and was soon back with both goblets from the kitchen. Sansa straightened her skirt, and picked up her fork.

"Ah, smells and tastes good." She smiled, "Thank you."

[Gabriel Rodermark]

“My pleasure.”

I took a small sip of the red wine – the subtle flavor sadly lost on me. I had taken the liberty of adding a little something to my guests wine on refilling it. She would certainly not notice the difference, though it was there. The blood mixed with the wine easily, it's taste just as sweet.

“So... are you still interested in my offer of a gallery tour?”

[Sansa]

She sipped the wine, and nodded, "Oh, yes. I'd love it. I'm sure you know all the best pieces.

"I didn't get to see much on ... on New Years." Her memories twinged a little, as though there was something she should remember. Sansa took another bite of her pasta instead of dwelling on the feeling.

Taking up the wine again, she swallowed slowly. "This really is a great vintage - you have excellent taste."

[Gabriel Rodermark]

I didn't let the mention of the Barbican incident vex me, but instead smiled at her comment on the Bordeaux. “It's good to be in the company of someone who can appreciate it, instead of just gulping it down like a pint.” Some might have considered it sacrilege to dilute such a fine wine, however it was arguable that the blood of Clan Toreador was the finest vintage of all; a heady, intoxicating concoction. “It's little luxuries like these that make life worth living...” I paused, as if listening to myself, then gave a self-depreciative chuckle. “Listen to me, I must sound so old-fashioned and... uncool.”

[Sansa]

Sansa rolled her eyes, "If I hear another person use the word 'cool' I think I'll scream. No, I think its terrific - there is so much to life there's hardly enough time to experience it all. And these days people run around so much they don't even bother trying.

"Enjoying a good wine, or piece of music ... can almost be a religious experience." Her cheeks colored faintly as she went on, "I only wish I had your resources, to experience the 'little luxuries' as it were."

[Gabriel Rodermark]

A religious experience, she had said. Something spiritual. Now there was the zeitgeist of the Toreador at their finest! seeing the beauty and infinite value in art and life itself. For all I had singled her out as a means of ensuring Camarilla security, what I had really found in Sansa was more than a pleasant surprise. I almost felt guilty at bonding her to me, for fear that it might somehow affect the innocent spark that was alight within her. “I'm glad you think so ...and you know, if you'd ever like to partake in any of those luxuries, I'd welcome the company. I find these sorts of things are best enjoyed with others, don't you?”

[Sansa]

She smiled, "Well, of course. There isn't much that can't be improved with the right company."

Sansa bit her lower lip, adding, "Like dinner, for instance." Her blue eyes sparkled over the top of her goblet as she sipped the wine again.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

“Then we must do this again some time soon. Perhaps you might do the honor of being chef next time?” I asked, returning her lingering stare with a wolfish smile, then adding brazenly: “How are you at breakfasts?”

[Sansa]

Her pulse quickened at the expression on his face, and she felt the room growing warmer around her. "Well, it would depend on what you were in the mood for." Sansa looked down at her nearly empty plate, and then back up at Gabriel. He was still watching her intently, with that gleam in his eye.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

I set my plate aside, having gone through the motions of all but clearing it. Free of the clutter, I relaxed against the arm of the couch, happy to indulge in a little innuendo and double entendre. “Hmmm... what would the chef recommend?”