Sanguini's

Brit sat across the table from Ethan and watched as others milled about. As she had now seen several times, the room was packed with many kindred. Unlike other times, there were more humans present and many as guests of kindred. “Don’t stare,” came Ethan’s familiar admonishment at such gatherings. Brit smiled up at him. Her hair had been perfectly arranged and her Laval-original dress suited her figure. Noticing Ethan’s frown, Brit glanced down at the décolleté and puffed her cheeks slightly knowing that Ethan would once again fuss with his new seamstress over his views on what should be considered proper for women in public. The proprietor greeted Ethan warmly and assured him as he had done with other kindred that tonight’s chef was a great improvement on the previous chef. Ethan replied, “I’m relieved, of course.” With a glance at Brit, he said, “My wife enjoyed the last meal here as I am sure many others did. However, the concept of garlic night offended my senses for days.”

“As it did with many others,” said the jovial man. “I stake the reputation of Sanguini’s that no chef will make such a mistake again.” Ethan practically flinched at the restaurant’s name, and he wondered why some primogen had not yet killed the kindred for being so open as to the cliental of the restaurant. It would have been easy to do based on the restaurant’s placement up high on a cliff.

With another glance to Brit, Ethan reminded himself that it gave him an opportunity to have Brit interact beyond her small circle of friends. Additionally, she looked lovely. “Don’t stare, baby,” Ethan reminded her again as he handed her a menu.

Brit accepted the offering and sat it down. She smiled up at him and said, “I know what you will have.” He grinned touching her bite marks lightly and giving her stray tendril a gentle tug. Noticing her paleness, he announced that he would be having a goblet of Jesus Merlot. Her look of confusion went unanswered as he gave her the menu again. She held it this time, but did not open it.

“I wish to know what you want?” Ethan said with a gesture that she open the menu. Brit opened it and flipped through the pages that had no pictures. Ethan watched her remembering her demands. While it was true that something had affected her, Ethan wondered whether she had preferences in things such as food. Brit continued to flip though the menu and inquired about the availability of French fries. “Rather than a side item, I wish you to select something from each of the section. If done correctly, you will have a proper eight course meal.”

Brit puffed her cheeks and continued to turn the pages. “I don’t know what to get.” Ethan opened a menu and scanned the items quickly noting with pleasure that garlic was thankfully missing from the menu. He suggested she find something she thought she would like by perhaps finding an ingredient she liked. Brit went back to studying the menu. When the waiter came, she read over to each item slowly prior to ordering. Brit stammered, “For the first course.” She gaze to Ethan as she said it hesitantly, “I’ll have this.” She held up the menu so he could see. He gave no indication of whether he felt the choice of seared foie gras with cherry sauce on crackers made of cocoa nibs was a good choice.

The waiter scribbled impatiently. Brit looked at the second section and ordered, “This…” Her lips moved before she read, “Roasted pear salad with chocolate-scented goat cheese and dribbled with the vinaigrette of chocolate and roasted pears.” Ethan’s eyebrow arched at the sophistication of the salad and his second eyebrow joined when the soup of pureed chestnuts with a chocolate cream swirled in was ordered.

Tapping his pen with annoyance, the waiter sighed deeply as Brit read the next section. Ethan’s eyes flashed red for a moment as he said, “My good man, have you somewhere else to be?” The words of the waiter stopped at his lips after glancing to Ethan. A polite shake of his head, he waited for Brit to order the cocoa and orange-braised shrimp for her seafood course. The pasta dish was to be squash risotto with sage and chocolate oil followed by a strawberry sorbet with flicks of chocolate.

Ethan picked up the menu and opened it as he heard Brit order the rib of pork rubbed with cocoa and herbs and drizzled in hazelnut oil served with chocolate-black olive disks and a white chocolate crème of baby carrots. He touched his lips to suppress a grin at the expected order of a “Love Goddess Cake”, which contained several layers of chocolate cake buffered by chocolate ganache filling and frosted with whipped crème.

The waiter left and Brit beamed at him triumphantly having ordered from each section. “Brit. You have managed to have eight courses of chocolate.” Ethan stood holding his hand out to her to lead her to the dance floor. Pulling her close, Ethan guided her far more slowly than the music could play to let Brit follow him in a perfect tango.

“Was the dinner not correct?” she asked. Her body pressed lightly as she stepped outside of his step to turn and step facing him again. Her dress rustled as she moved and he inhaled the light scent of her body happily noting that all was garlic-free.

He grinned. “No, baby. I shall look forward to soft, sweet, chocolate kisses.” He pulled her close again as he turned her in the slow tango brushing his fangs on her throat.

“I thought…you had sweet kisses earlier,” she whispered.

“I did indeed…but…like you, I will have a love goddess dessert,” he teased. She danced close to him and he whispered, “You did not think I went to all that trouble on your make-up for merely dinner and dancing, did you?”

He enjoyed her bewildered look and guided her back to the table where the foie gras waited. And he enjoyed her look when she bit into it finding it more than cherries with chocolate.