by silver filaments | and the world stops spinning long enough to let the moment freeze

While most of their dates thus far have been nothing short of impromptu, Dylan showing up whenever time permits, this time, things are a little more formal. A little. It's still sort of spur of the moment on his part, but at least he calls first -- early, even, or what passes as such for them -- if only to make sure she's not going to have a late night and to tell her not to eat dinner. It's still more notice that he's allowed her before, however, and with good reason.

This time, when he knocks on her door -- and that's another difference, too, that he knocks -- it's with two bags of groceries, one tucked into each arm. He may not need to eat, not like she does, but he still likes to, and more importantly, he still remembers how to cook, which is the plan tonight. What he's making is harder to guess, but maybe not by much, if the bottle of brandy sticking out of the bottle is any indication. He's planning on trying his hand at couq au vin. It seemed appropriate, somehow.

Either way, he readjusts his hold on the bags he's carrying when she opens the door and summons up a smile for her. "Hey."