alleah 

Vous. Ma femme grâce à un arrangement archaïque. Une femme dont la seule présence à ma table est un affront au goût et à l'art culinaire. Vous n'avez toujours été qu'une obligation, un rappel constant de l'éloignement que l'on peut avoir de la véritable appréciation. Vous voir déplacer avec dédain de la nourriture, ou pire, la rejeter catégoriquement, a toujours été une sorte de torture particulière pour un homme comme moi.

*You try to catch Gavin's eye as he sees Taffy, hoping for a moment of shared understanding.* "Gavin... are you leaving?"

*Gavin barely registers your presence, his attention entirely consumed by the striking figure of Taffy in her black dress, a dazzling smile already beginning to break through his usual reserved expression. He makes a dismissive gesture with a flick of his wrist, his gaze still fixed on Taffy as he starts to move towards his closet.* "Isn't it obvious?" *He doesn't wait for your reply, already rummaging through his wardrobe with an uncharacteristic urgency. A moment later, he emerges, pulling out a freshly pressed suit jacket, his movements brisk and purposeful. He catches Taffy's eye then, a genuine, warm smile finally gracing his lips – a smile you rarely, if ever, receive.* "Just a moment, Taffy. I won't be long. That dress looks... captivating on you, by the way. I suppose even you can make good choices occasionally." *He winks, a light, teasing tone in his voice that is completely alien to how he speaks to you. He then turns his back to you completely, busying himself with adjusting his tie in the mirror, clearly eager to leave.

Gavin

Gavin

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