Rayne's Bistro is perfect for a romantic outing. Smelling of smoked spice and baking bread, it is homey – cozy as an oversized sweater, like everything in Hallstatt is.

Their table is at the back, adjacent to the wood-paneled wall. A slim vase holding a sprig of baby's breath is what Emerynne is staring at while she thinks of stuff to talk about. Thankfully, a waiter swoops in handing them menubooks and beverage lists. "Good evening," he greets pleasantly. He recites the chef's special and day special items as he fills their glasses, ending in, "I personally recommend the carbonara."

A quick scan of the menu gives Emerynne a limited selection of plant-based options. "I'll have the vegan fettucine, please."

"One vegan fettucine," the waiter repeats. To Matthias, he asks, "and for you?" Matthias angles his menubook towards him and points at something. Nodding, he notes it down and questions, "anything to drink while we prepare your meals?"

"I'll have a Sparkling Blue Vanilla, thank you," Emerynne answers. Matthias respectfully shakes his head to decline a beverage.

The waiter then collects the menubooks and leaves, only to return shortly with Emerynne's soda. She sips at it, watching Matthias over the rim of the glass. He watches her in turn, and asks: how is that?

Glad that he started the conversation because she couldn't seem to, Emerynne swallows the sweet, minty fizz and replies, "it's tasty." She reaches across and sets the glass in front of him. "Go on, try it."

Matthias obliges and takes a drink. After he downs it, he beams at her. This is really nice.

Her inner voice singing 'we're sharing a drink, we're sharing a drink', Emerynne barely manages to say, "I know, right? It's my favorite summer drink."

Matthias points at the soda and at her left arm, signing: favorite color?

Surprised by how incredibly observant he is, Emerynne nods. "Yes. I love blue. All shades, all hues..." Rolling her sleeve higher to show more of her tattoos, she exemplifies, "I designed this entirely just to have some of nature's prettiest blue creations on me."

I love that sentiment, Matthias responds after a minute of reflection. It's creative and the composition is beautiful.

Exultation marking itself permanently on her face, Emerynne remits: thank you. That means the world.

You are getting better at ÖSL, he comments.

Noemi and I practice a lot. She gave me her books and charts to study from, signs Emerynne in steady movements, taking her time to fingerspell things in her mind prior to expressing them.

Lips lifting at the corners, gratitude gleaming in his eyes, he makes the gestures: much appreciated.

"Of course," Emerynne reverts, grinning.

In the meantime, the waiter arrives bringing their order on a large tray. Naming the dishes, he sets their plates in front of them and places cutleries on the side; Emerynne notices that Matthias has ordered the carbonara. Replenishing their water glasses, their waiter imparts, "enjoy your meal. And don't hesitate to call on me if you need anything else." Executing a bow, he disappears once more.

As they begin eating, Emerynne queries, "how's your food?"

Raising his free hand, Matthias shows her a thumbs-up. Putting aside his fork, he then signs: you brought vegan food to the picnic too. How long have you been vegan?

Emerynne washes down her mouthful of pasta with the soda, and replies, "it's fairly recent transition. Although, I was raised vegetarian. Mama's always been vegetarian..."

That's nice. What about your dad?

"Well, I don't know him," Emerynne answers truthfully. It was never something she felt like hiding, nor is she ashamed of it. "I know he's Korean. Mama went to Seoul on a student exchange program. Conceived me at a wild college party and decided to keep me."

When she meets his gaze again, he doesn't look sympathetic or pitying. Just plainly intrigued. A beat later, he signs: you ever wish to meet him? Know him?

It is a common question whenever the discourse revolves around the donor of half her genes. "Not really, no. And people doubt this, but it's true." Offering Matthias the blue beverage which he accepts, Emerynne continues, "mama has been phenomenal... I think she mindfully ensured that I never felt like I was one parent short or anything..." Faded memories from her childhood – sounds of distant laughter, the thrill of tickle fights, the joy of exploring carnivals, snippets from pizza dinners alongside classic Disney movies – play in her mind's eye.

Ruefully dragging herself out of nostalgia, she focuses back on Matthias. His dimples as affable and disarming as ever, he conveys: she is a wonderful mother.

"Yeah," agrees Emerynne, contentment brimming in her chest, "she is."

No matter how curious she is about Matthias's family, she is aware that this is neither the place, nor the time for that conversation. Even if they do share an absence, Emerynne knows she had a choice in regard to her biological father, but Matthias never did. Hers was never a loss, but his is a loss too unfathomable for most human beings. Where she eased into growing up without a father, he was forced to grow up without his father, his mother, and his brother. How and why can anyone talk about that? One cannot. And so, they fall away into a congenial silence, exchanging glances and smiles over the table.

At the end of their meal, Emerynne calls their waiter for the bill. Matthias makes a motion to protest when she swipes her debit card, however, she brushes him off. "I just got my paycheck and I want to splurge," she tells him, winking. "You can pay on our next date."

As soon as those words leave her mouth, Emerynne feels her insides shrivel like burning plastic. If Matthias is put off by that, it doesn't show in the shy dip of his chin or in the hand scuffing up the hair at the nape of his neck. Just as they vacate their table, she swiftly plucks a little bit off the baby's breath, wraps it in the paper receipt, and tucks it into her wallet.

Outside, Matthias says that he wants to walk her home. While he is not insistent, Emerynne is not inclined to refuse either. Their walk is another peaceful promenade out of the Marketplace and into the residential neighborhoods. Unhurried steps, holding gazes and looking away, inhalations stifling words because she doesn't want to pressure him into talking. And because the quietude and the company is more than enough. Because he – reticent charm and hushed reservedness and everything else – is more than enough.

They reach Ruhe Apartments in seven minutes. Giving the building a once-over, Matthias signs: I painted this when I was thirteen. Too spectacular to not be painted.

Emerynne follows his stare, taking in the gothic elegance of it. "It is pretty spectacular. Aunt Erika is the godmother of dark academia."

There is a good-natured humor in his nod and chuckle – all diaphanous and delicate.

Risking her second chance of the day, Emerynne faces Matthias and asks, "may I have your notebook?"

Though his brows are knit in confusion, he passes his red journal to her. Emerynne finds a pen in her satchel. Opening the journal to the last page, she jots in her phone number and her name below it. "That's me. Text me whenever you need to... uh, talk about my business proposal and... well, simply wanna hang out or whatever." Before she closes it, she taps on a small sketch of a Chinese chrysanthemum at the left corner. "This is cute. Something I'd get tattooed."

In blue? he questions, a sheepish simper playing on his lips. He takes his notebook to study the page.

"Definitely in blue," declares Emerynne. In the same breath, tacking on, "and thanks for walking me home."

No problem.

For a startling, final gamble, Emerynne inches forward, rises on the tips of her toes, and – glad that he doesn't retreat or evade – she chastely pecks his cheek. Stepping away, she searches his face for anything from discomfort to disgust, nonetheless, she only discovers that he appears as nonplussed by it as she is.

"Goodnight," she slowly murmurs, reluctance suppressed underneath her tongue.

Backing a few paces, Matthias signs goodnight, then swivels onto the road and walks off.

❧

This weekend, it is Emerynne's turn to sleepover at Noemi's house. Chucking her bag on the floor, she flops facedown on the bed, and smothers a groan into the pillow.

Noemi's clickity-clacking at the keyboard ceases, and she hears her say, "well, hello to you, too. So, what's happened?"

Removing her head from the pillow, Emerynne complains, "I came on too strong and now he hates me," and flops back again.

The mattress dips under a new weight next to her. "Did he say that?"

A muffled "no..." worms from the pillow.

"Why—"

Emerynne scrambles upright. "Because he's not texting me! He's too polite to say anything directly, but he's distancing himself from me—I can feel it. That was the worst date ever. I'm so fucking stupid. I should've never..."

Over Emerynne's self-deprecating warbling, Noemi says, "three days ago, you told me you had a good time. What changed?'

"I realized I misjudged," states Emerynne, scoffing. She pulls up her knees and tucks her face in. "He probably thought we were merely friends having dinner together and then I dropped the 'date' bomb on him. And as if that hadn't distressed him enough, I had to fucking kiss him goodnight. I didn't even ask for his permission!"

A comforting pat on Emerynne's thigh. "Okay, first of all. He's just painfully shy. He wasn't treated kindly by pretty girls, so you need to understand that when an obviously stunning girl is showing interest in him, he's gonna be thrown off balance."

Emerynne lifts her forehead off the tops of her knees, gaze narrowed at Noemi. "How do you know that? And I'm not obviously stunning."

"We went to school together," Noemi answers, shrugging, and carries on, "be quiet and listen. Second of all, it's not even been a week. Give him some time. Patience is a virtue."

With a long, drawn-out sigh, Emerynne acquiesces. "Alright..."

A few moments later, Noemi's expression changes into an enigmatic smirk and she ventures, "since we're on the topic of dates..."

"Fynn asked you out," fills in Emerynne, voice muted by her bated breath.

"Yes!" Noemi squeals. Emerynne joins her.

Anne has to pop in to ultimately get the girls to quieten down. After promising not to be too raucous and wishing her goodnight, they celebrate another round as noiselessly as possible. Then, Noemi takes on a more serious tone and pleads, "Emery, you gotta help me pick an outfit."

"Sure. When's your date though?"

"Wednesday..."

"Planning astoundingly ahead, I see," Emerynne muses aloud, commending Noemi's zeal in a reverent bob of her head.

Noemi, comparing two crop-tops in the mirror, meets her reflection's eyes. "I like to be prepared. Preparedness is another virtue."

Snorting, Emerynne retorts, "I think you're reading the wrong Bible."

a/n: sorry for filler chapter. just wanted the intimacy to advance and grow.