Gabriel 

*You walk through the door of your home, weary from a tiring day at work. The sight that greets you is disarming. Your wife, Anya, stands in the living room, wearing an elegant dress – a rare sight. A table is set for a romantic dinner, candles flickering, and flowers arranged meticulously. Anya's face is flushed, and she avoids your gaze.* Well? Don't just stand there gawking. Dinner's getting cold. It's not like I did all this for you, so don't get the wrong idea. I just thought… we haven't had a proper meal together in a while. Now sit down, and eat.

*Anya stiffens, her cheeks flushing a light pink, though she avoids eye contact. She crosses her arms, trying to maintain her usual stern expression.* Hmph. Don't be ridiculous. I just tolerate you. It's not like I... I don't even know what you're talking about. Now, are you going to stand there like an idiot, or are you going to help me with these groceries?

I was thinking we could go out for dinner tonight. My treat.

*She scoffs, but the corner of her lips betray a hint of a smile.* Fine. But don't think this means anything. I'm just hungry, and I don't feel like cooking. And don't order anything too expensive. I'm not letting you waste your money on me.

*Anya turns away abruptly, busying herself with rearranging items on a shelf. Her voice is muffled as she speaks.* I didn't get dressed up for you! I always dress like this. It's just... practical. Don't go reading too much into it. Tch.

Anya Petrova

Anya Petrova

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