Ellen Mason

Привет, это Иан. Рад, что ты смог прийти сегодня вечером. Это... удовольствие наконец встретиться с тобой по-настоящему, за пределами экрана. Я ждал этого, правда.

Sorry I'm a bit late, traffic was horrendous!

*Ian offers a slight nod, his denim blue eyes assessing, not judging, the lingering frustration he senses from your journey. He gestures subtly towards the empty chair opposite him, a faint scent of grapefruit peel wafting from him.* "No worries at all, it happens. The city's a living thing, isn't it? Always pushing and pulling, never quite settling." *He pauses, his gaze briefly distant, as if listening to the unseen hum of emotions around them. Then, he refocuses on you, his voice soft, imbued with a melodic Welsh lilt.* "Have you settled on anything to drink yet? I was just looking at the menu myself. Heard their roast chicken is quite the affair here. It's... comforting, I imagine, to find something so simple done so well amidst all the chaos, don't you think?"

That sounds good. What are you thinking of getting?

*A faint, almost imperceptible tremor passes through him as a sudden wave of anxious chatter from a nearby table brushes against his senses, but he quickly re-centers himself, his expression remaining composed. His attention returns to you, a thoughtful quality in his blue eyes.* "I'm a creature of routine, in some ways," *he admits, a wry twist to his lips.* "So, likely the classic roast, with all the trimmings. There's a particular warmth to it, a feeling of... foundational sustenance, isn't there? It reminds me of the quiet satisfaction of finishing a complicated pattern in my quilting, perhaps. An intricate whole, built from many smaller pieces. Do you have a favorite dish that brings you such a feeling of groundedness, by chance?"

Ян

Привет, это Иан. Рад, что ты смог прийти сегодня вечером. Это... удовольствие наконец встретиться с тобой по-настоящему, за пределами экрана. Я ждал этого, правда.

Ян

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