My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World

851 Picky Eater

Dinner with Irene wasn’t as titillating an experience as it sounded like; dim candlelights and the tender warmth of each other’s company, gazing deep and lost into one another’s eyes over the ripple of red wine in our thin, sparkly glasses.

But in actuality, reality was much more akin to the likes of brown paper bags, wrinkly ketchup packets, and lots and lots of french fries.

We took our five-star buffet over to her dining table where we sipped on our fizzy drinks and munched on our burgers in a less than… desired intimate moment.

The mind was a precarious place when at rest, unbearably unpleasant when filled with distractions. Take a guess which part of the spectrum my brain falls on at the moment.

Much of the blame I put on that damn white door relentlessly taunting me every time I try turning my attention elsewhere. Credit where credit is due though, Irene had yet to say a single word since about her prior proposal.

Instead, we talked about this, we talked about that. Trivial things that always ended short and abrupt. Like it was all a bad dream, like I had just vividly imagined us sitting there at her countertop five minutes ago. Like…

“What… are you doing?”

Irene’s eyes quickly flicked up at me, the top bun of her burger in one hand, the other balancing a clump of fries about ready to be added to the pile already sitting in her patty like some sort of game of fast-food Jenga.

“Eating,” she responded plainly.

.....

“You put your fries in your burger?” I asked, bewildered, as she promptly resumed stacking high and compact. “Woah, how many are you gonna – ?”

“As much as I can,” she responded again, placing the bun back on top of her amalgamation of beef, cheese, and potato, and pushing, squishing firmly. “Adds to the texture and taste. Salt helps too. You should try it.”

Yeah, no way. By the time she was done playing Frankenstein, her burger had doubled in size. I could feel my jaw aching the next morning’s plight just looking at her french-patty monstrosity. Irene, on the other hand, looked as if she had never seen a better delicacy, and with a greedy smack of the lips, stretched her mouth wide and easily took a good solid chomp.

This girl can eat…

Can certainly swallow too…

Okay, creepy… I’m blaming pheromones. Got an alibi. My creepiness is invalidated, Your Honor.

Come to think… drive-throughs, waffle houses, and now fast-food deliveries. Got the elegance and grace of million-dollar magazine models both in the professional and… less-than-savory kinds, and yet in person, behind that glamorous facade, she might as well be your everyday slob.

And honestly, I think I can come to prefer this kind of setting over waiters in tailcoats and fancy red dresses. Nah, yeah, forget that – slobby is the new sexy.

“So…” with the sound of swirling ice, Irene took a big sip out of her striped, plastic straw. “We’ll be over with dinner quite soon. Once we do, well, what do you want to do?”

“I’m deciding?” I asked, tearing my gaze away from the end of the hall just in time to see her steal a handful of my fries.

“Of course you are,” Irene said, turning a blind eye to her crime, and instead actually savoring it, taking quick, suckling pecks at her greasy palm. “I want to do what you want to do.”

“Likewise,” I said. “Your house, not mine. You don’t have anything you’d like the both of us to do together?”

“If it were up to me, we’d be watching top ten videos and spooky stories all night long. Or reading, or just web-surfing in general… or working.”

“I like spooky top tens,” I said, propping my elbows up, my interest mildly piqued. “The good ones, at least. No text-to-speech, no samely regurgitated picks. We can do that.”

“I rather we just stick to your proposals,” she said, giving a smile that was more dire than merry. “Better, probably livelier, that way.”

Feeling merciful, I abided by her suggestion and began browsing again through her home for any sign of those said proposals.

“I see the karaoke machine is still connected,” I said, gleaming over a stray microphone resting beneath her television. “And you still owe me a song.”

“Sounds more like something you’d end the night on, not start with,” she refuted, sounding even more reluctant than before. “Sorry, I… I don’t mean to sound… boring, but I – I’ve just never done something like this before.”

“What – have fun? You? The lifeline of every waking occasion? No way…”

“Give it time. Give me time…” her expression softened, looking more hopeful, more relaxed. “I’ll learn to unwind eventually. With you, I always do.”

“So you’ll be singing?” I asked, seeing my own faint glimmer of hope.

“Play your cards right…” for a moment, her stiff exterior broke, and from a glimpse, the slightest look in her eyes, a more playful side of her peered back. “Maybe I’ll do more than just sing for you…”

Hoo, boy…

Right there at that moment, I realized I’d reached a new personal best; Ria hadn’t whizzed through my head in more than a minute… and really it probably would have stayed that way had Irene not just looked just a little bit over my shoulder.

“That’s hers, I assume?”

I followed her eyes, and immediately that small, little inconspicuous box I left on her even more inconspicuous couch. Honestly, I have almost forgotten I even brought that with me here. Half of me still wished I hadn’t remembered at all.

“You said to bring a gift, so…” a gestured towards it, facing back towards her with a little wavy flourish. “Adalia mentioned she liked to drink on occasion.”

“You brought alcohol?”

“The strongest I could find,” I shrugged. “Don’t know her preference, but I figured she could take just about anything.”

“So long as it’s flammable and drinkable, she’s a happy alcoholic,” Irene assured. “Actually, all phoenixes have a fondness for the strong stuff. According to her, it gives a kind of funny, rumbling yet pleasant feeling in the stomach.”

Phoenixes as in plural. So there were more of her than just her. Of course, there were more of her. I knew that, I saw them with my very own eyes, didn’t I? Or dreams, at least.

But just how many? And what happened to the rest of them? Why was there now only one of their kind in a species regarded most prominently for their absolute immortality?

Answers I’ll never get. Questions that’ll always remain forever left in slumber… or maybe not… maybe it doesn’t have to be… maybe they can be answered. Who knows?

I still don’t know.

“Yeah, you picked quite a good gift for her,” Irene spoke out again, looking back at me after a long silence of only nodding approval. “I know Ria would have definitely liked it.”

Would have…

Pretty funny way of phrasing, the way she said that… as if she already knew exactly how the night was going to go… the choice I had made in regards to the choice she had gave… but just how exactly could she know something like that?

It’s not like I’ve made the choice just yet, have I?

We’re still eating, we’re still having dinner, but after that… what do I want to do after that?

I think I finally know.

A final bite, and I plopped the rest of my burger on Irene’s plate. The remaining few fries I had left, I made sure to sprinkle it all atop just the way she liked it.

“Not hungry?” She asked concernedly, then a little more nervously, she cocked her head. “Did… Did you not like the food? Um, I can order something else for you. Anything you like, you can – ”

“Cheeseburgers are as good as it gets,” I said, assuaging her worries. “Right now though, I just want a little help before I make up my mind as to what we’ll be doing tonight.”

“Oh,” Irene immediately understood. “I see.”

“What’d you say before? If it were up to you, you’d just be blinded by your own selfishness?” I let out a sigh. “That you think I’d have a better idea what’s right? Well… I’m sorry, Irene… but I haven’t the faintest clue either about that.”

“That’s okay,” she said at once, her voice dripping with understanding. “If it’s too much, you don’t have to think about it either. I’m fine with it if you don’t want to go through with it.”

“Maybe you would,” I sighed again, heavier, deeper. “Thing is – I don’t know if I would be.”

We shared another look, and the way she looked, so patient yet so bemused, maybe also with a tad of apprehension… it was honestly endearing how much she clung to, and how much she regarded every word I spoke.

It’s precisely why I can’t just make this choice so whimsically… if I wanted to, or if I didn’t… then I need to treat this with the same level of regard she had in me.

It’s only right.

“Before I go and make a decision I might come and regret coming into the next year,” I said, beginning to stand, and in the corner of my eyes, I was taunted by that closed, white door for the last time. “I’d like to go and see her first.”