A lunch break is two hours at minimum

[Veritas]

There were very good reasons why Henri kept his class schedule clean around midday, or at least one very good reason. Lunch. It afforded him time to walk home and make his own midday meals.

Breakfast was usually as simple as some pastry, a coffee, perhaps some fresh fruit or even crepes au fromage et jambon. Often hastily taken over the newspaper or a book and with a steady diet of cigarettes. That was a thirty minute affair.

Dinner was, unless the occasion demanded, a simple dish or two with a potent apertif to wash down the day, and was also accompanied by a steady diet of cigarettes. These days Henri slept earlier.

Lunch, however, was had when the day was firmly in one's grasp. Ideas were fresh, the sun was bright, and taking time to do it justice meant that the rest of your day, in turn, stood to benefit from you being able to do it justice. It was also, by contrast, a meal he never took alone if it could be helped. Wine may be served, but the discussion was to be the apertif. Sometimes students were invited under the auspices of "office hours". Sometimes faculty came to his home. It was always understood that, while his lunch break was famously long, it was also usually productive in some respect.

The run-up to lunch was no different. Henri stood in his kitchen, cigarette tight between his lips as he ran a bread knife through a re-warmed baguette in small diagonal cuts. His guest would soon be arriving, and she was a familiar one. Familiar enough that he'd even trusted her to go by the market and pick up a few things before stopping by.

[Evelyn Cato]

Her trip to the market had been particularly successful, and Evelyn smiled to herself as she made the return trip to Henri's home. The two small bags she carried weren't too heavy, and her step was even and measured. It had been a long time since she'd shared a meal with her old friend, and it would be such a refreshing experience to once more relive what she knew to be a thoroughly enjoyable daily routine.

From what she could remember, Henri had been a wonderful cook; of course he was French, so perhaps that had something to do with it. Though, it was also entirely possible that he simply took pleasure from the act of preparing food, with nationality having no say in the matter. Whatever the case, Evelyn knew that whatever meal they were to share this day would be delightful.

Stopping at his door, she lifted a hand, finger depressing the door chime. They had grown close once more since her return, spending hours in conversation and introspection, but there was still a reservation she held. Whether he wished her to simply stroll in through the door or not, this was his home. His sanctuary.

And again she smiled, looking to the side as she waited, her thoughts taking her back to the countless hours they spent in Paris, sitting for hours on end at any cafe they happened upon. They were good memories.

[Veritas]

From his vantage through the porthole window in the kitchen, he could see her silhouette darkening the window in the door.

"The door is not locked Evelyn, come in!"

He let his voice raise to reach her so he would not be interrupted in his task. Pausing momentarily to tap his cigarette against a counter-side ashtray, he turned to the oven to check on the heavy ceramic pot left idle in a braise. The coq au vin was lazily bubbling inside, the low temperature wine sauce slowly tenderizing the quartered rooster he'd bought at discount from the uptown Mexican carniceria a day prior and put in the oven before leaving for work this morning.

Henri turned to see a familiar face in his kitchen, which he greeted with a smile and a small kiss to each cheek.

"You are five minutes late, but I am ten, so I think we will spare the fuss."

[Evelyn Cato]

Evelyn gave a small chuckle, moving past him to set the bags on the counter. A wry look back to him, and she set about unpacking, ever mindful to place her purchases carefully in line.

"Prosciutto," she started, her grin still remaining. Asparagus, onions, red bell peppers, fresh rosemary and thyme, and arugula soon followed. True, there was not a lot, but it was enough, and she knew that Henri would use everything that she'd bought.

Like it was a ritual, the immortal compressed the two plastic bags into a small ball, then placed them in the rubbish bin.

Enticed by the aromas from the stove, she hovered over the pot for only a moment, taking in the scent. It was wonderful.

"Coq au vin? I've not had this since," a pause as she remembered.

"Since Paris."

[Veritas]

"It was on sale."

Henri confessed as he smirked, which nearly risked leaking into a smile. Talk of Paris would lead to too much nostalgia, too fast, he thought.

"Ah, good."

He carefully unwrapped the paper shroud holding the prosciutto together, and leaned forward to smell the scents of wine, spice, and curing agents in the paper-thin Italian ham.

"Wonderful things to teach me there are no absolutes in life. Nearly everything Italian is merde. Italians are feckless lazy oafs who smell always of body odor and petrol, but somehow they make prosciutto and have some other merits, so they are absolved."

Extinguishing his cigarette, he slid the rubber bands off the cluster of asparagus, running a finger along one stalk up to the purple-tinged spear tip. He moved to the sink and began to wash them.

"Would you cut the onions please?"

[Evelyn Cato]

There was a moment's hesitation as Evelyn allowed herself the rare opportunity to tease at him.

"Surely you haven't gotten tender eyes with age," she said, pulling a knife from the drawer and moving the onions to the cutting board.

[Veritas]

"Certainly not."

Henri cast a look over his shoulder at her as he shut off the tap, drying the asparagus in a towel before setting them on the counter next to her.

"I only have two hands, after all."

He turned towards the fridge to remove a crock of chilled smoked salmon and capers, along with a small puck of tripel créme Brie.

"And my policy is to let immortals handle any sharp objects if given the choice."

[Evelyn Cato]

As she went about expertly cutting the onion, Evelyn gave a half-turn of her head, looking at what Henri removed from the refrigerator. It was enough to make her pause, and she gave the slightest of sighs before returning to her work.

It wasn't long before she had finished her task, and making sure that not a single bit of cut onion had fallen from the cutting board, she gently set the knife down.

"I hurt just as much as you do if cut," she mused as an afterthought.

[Veritas]

"Certainly, but I would think with dozens of lifetimes of experience, that you've still come out with ten fingers speaks volumes, would you agree?"

Again a near-smile, and Henri dutifully took up the knife to shear the bottoms off the asparagus.

"I often wonder if you have so much talent in so many things that it would be a chore simply to remember so many proficiencies."

Carefully, Henri began to wrap strips of prosciutto around each stalk of asparagus, mindful to set any small scraps to the side on a dish.

[Evelyn Cato]

A hmph, and Evelyn rested an elbow on the counter as she watched him work. He'd not lost any amount of his passion for food preparation in the years that they'd been separated, and she gave an inward smirk at the observation.

"Well," she began in a rather clipped - if not poking - tone, "for one thing I've cut asparagus enough to know that you've sliced off far too much from the base."

For as much as he might seem to enjoy this newfound opening to needle at her 'experience' and whatnot, she too had found an equally enjoyable hobby in nattering back at him.

[Veritas]

"If you miss the woody base of the stem so dearly, I will make sure to send the scrap home with you."

For emphasis, Henri held up a piece of the severed vegetable to Evelyn for her approval.

"This is the first lunch of the month that has not been a guided study lecture. I am amused to see that heated debates are still on the menu."

[Evelyn Cato]

Her inward smirk showed itself outwardly, and she gave a half-hearted shrug of indifference.

"Do with your leavings what you will. I've enough food at my own home to be satisfied without bringing more back."

Her gaze moved from him to the refrigerator, knowing that he undoubtedly had what she wanted kept safely inside.

"And our wine?"

It was the one thing that she'd allowed herself to become rather... juvenile about. A weakness that she allowed.

Evelyn Cato was what one might consider a wine thief.

[Veritas]

"I would suggest the pinot noir on the counter. It is the same winery used for the coq au vin."

He looked at her with a knowing expression.

"But I suppose your penchant for merlot is as constant as your immortality, and I took that into account as well."

He gestured to another bottle, tucked nearly out of sight behind some other sundries.

[Evelyn Cato]

A wide smile, and Evelyn reached out to grasp the almost hidden bottle.

"I'm touched that you remembered," her eyes scanned over the label. "It is nice to see that age has not dulled all of your faculties."

Without giving him a chance to respond, she turned her gaze once more to him.

"Glasses. And the corkscrew - where are they kept... ?"

[Veritas]

In the midst of washing the bell peppers, Henri paused with a distracted look to his face.

"Dining room hutch."

That done, he arranged the bells onto a tray and ran them under the broiler. Keeping the door open, he watched the veggies like a hawk, quick to turn them as the skin began to blister and intermittently char.

"Do you have any plans for your summer hiatus?"

With nothing to do now but to keep the peppers from burning under the blue flames of the broiler, he lit another cigarette and made small talk.

[Evelyn Cato]

His words were true, and she returned shortly with two glasses and the corkscrew.

"I have not decided yet."

The glasses set gently on the counter, her next task fell to opening the bottle of merlot.

"Perhaps I will travel. It has been a long time since I saw America. It would be interesting to see how she has grown since our last meeting."

A brief look was sent to him from over the tops of her eyes as she flipped the corkscrew lever with very evident ease.

"Why do you ask?"

[Veritas]

"I ask because it's pertinent."

It was a strange question to him, but they'd always differed in tact. Their next most important event was that very hiatus.

With tongs, Henri deftly moved the peppers as they reached the threshold, keeping them in motion with one hand as he tucked his cigarette with the other.

"I too have been thinking of travel. I am as of yet undecided to what scope or purpose. I think I would like to spend time fishing, but I am loathe to be reminded too much of Marseilles."

[Evelyn Cato]

Evelyn arched a single eyebrow as she poured herself a glass of wine.

"And if you travel, will it be to somewhere outside of the country?"

She watched as he worked, blinking while taking a sip.

[Veritas]

"I think not."

At last, Henri deftly snatched a trio of piping-hot and gently-smoking bell peppers from the broiler, and dropped them carefully into a waiting paper bag to let them cool. He killed the gas to the broiler, checked the coq au vin, and with cigarette pursed between his lips, removed the dutch oven at last to rest on the stovetop.

"I can afford the frivolity, but I have no desire to become a tourist. I am already a stranger in a strange land, so to speak."

[Evelyn Cato]

"Aren't we all just that."

Stepping close to stand beside him, she watched with an interested gaze, every so often sipping from her wine.

"Not abroad then... "

She seemed to mull over the opportunities.

"I hear that the Pacific Northwest is a nice place. Seattle perhaps?"