Okay, but in that case: we're making our own platter here.
[ That seems like a fair trade if Sylvain isn't going to humor them by demonstrating the smuggling beyond the wine. Tonight's already been a night of indulgence; what's adding a few more things to it like a cherry on top of the metaphorical sundae? Hilda leans against him to put her shoes back on after he hands them over, and Claude moves his arm in her grasp to wind it around her waist instead while peering into the nearest display case. Something sweet is what he already had in mind - not for him, but for both of them.
When the croissants are requested, he glances up to meet the gaze of one very patient looking cafe employee who has clearly been through this routine with many a drunk banquet patron this night. Or maybe every night. Either way, it takes only but a second for Claude to shift to an even more charming grin. ]
Two of the strawberry ones, please. Oh, and three of those?
[ Unsurprisingly, he's pointing at some round, flat pastry with a sizable amount of cheese filling in the center. The employee picks up a fancy box of some kind to start putting them into. That's a good start, and he continues eying their options before spotting something in particular. ]
Wait a minute. C'mere, Sylvain. [ Because this isn't chaotic enough, with his free hand he reaches out for the man in question without looking and when his fingers hook into his jacket, that's all Claude needs to tug him closer as if they aren't all looking at the same things. Closeness is obviously the better option for pointing to the lumpy turnover on the savory side of the options. ] Does that look like a meat pie to you?
[ Hold that thought, because now he's noticed the tea menu with a rose tea that demands being pointed out to Hilda immediately. ]
no subject
[ That seems like a fair trade if Sylvain isn't going to humor them by demonstrating the smuggling beyond the wine. Tonight's already been a night of indulgence; what's adding a few more things to it like a cherry on top of the metaphorical sundae? Hilda leans against him to put her shoes back on after he hands them over, and Claude moves his arm in her grasp to wind it around her waist instead while peering into the nearest display case. Something sweet is what he already had in mind - not for him, but for both of them.
When the croissants are requested, he glances up to meet the gaze of one very patient looking cafe employee who has clearly been through this routine with many a drunk banquet patron this night. Or maybe every night. Either way, it takes only but a second for Claude to shift to an even more charming grin. ]
Two of the strawberry ones, please. Oh, and three of those?
[ Unsurprisingly, he's pointing at some round, flat pastry with a sizable amount of cheese filling in the center. The employee picks up a fancy box of some kind to start putting them into. That's a good start, and he continues eying their options before spotting something in particular. ]
Wait a minute. C'mere, Sylvain. [ Because this isn't chaotic enough, with his free hand he reaches out for the man in question without looking and when his fingers hook into his jacket, that's all Claude needs to tug him closer as if they aren't all looking at the same things. Closeness is obviously the better option for pointing to the lumpy turnover on the savory side of the options. ] Does that look like a meat pie to you?
[ Hold that thought, because now he's noticed the tea menu with a rose tea that demands being pointed out to Hilda immediately. ]