Emma hadn’t realized just how hungry she was until the pair of Slytherin alumnae had entered the restaurant, whereupon they were immediately swathed in the tantalizing aromas of spices and simmering meat. Tracey had told her briefly about the concept, but in her excitement Emma hadn’t the foresight to have a snack to tide her over during the time they’d spend watching their food cook painfully slowly in front of them.
She caught Tracey’s comment over the sizzling and grinned back.
“It’s great! How did you hear about this?” Emma took a sip of her drink, resorting to having to hold the floating flower back with her free hand so she could properly imbibe the contents.
“C’mon, you know I’d never turn down an opportunity for food. What could go wrong?” she joked. “Well, aside from the possibility of food poisoning…”
Emma eyed the chicken thigh warily as Tracey poked at it. Her mum and gran were excellent cooks, and if there was one thing she remembered them saying about cooking meat, it was that poultry must be thoroughly cooked all the way through: otherwise it could make you pretty sick for a few days. Then again, they were both Muggles, and didn’t have the luxury of protective cooking charms to detect such things. Which neither Tracey nor Emma happened to possess knowledge of, in any case. Reaching her own tongs over, she gingerly checked the underside; dark thigh meat cooked differently than white breast meat, she knew, but that was about the extent of it.
“Mmm, that might need another minute. Just to be safe.”
Returning her attention to her own charge, – a nicely-marbled piece of steak – she felt more confident. As long as the entire outside of the cut was properly seared, the threat was more or less taken care of.
“D’you like it more rare or more well-done?” she asked, gesturing with her own tongs. Emma wasn’t quite sure how she’d gauge anything in-between, but there was no help for it now.
The brunette raised an eyebrow at her friend’s cajoling tone, but couldn’t hide a smile. Tracey was perpetually hoping to drag Emma off on one of her work trips – and Emma perpetually yearned to go. But she had really hit her stride at work over the past few months, and she was reluctant to ask for vacation when the League was just kicking off for the season. She couldn’t be certain, but the Slytherin alumna thought she might be on the verge of receiving a raise: personally, she felt that she was not only in the office more frequently than the Senior Assistant, but she was also privately convinced that she did a hell of a lot more work than Fletcher. And did a better job of it, to boot. But ultimately the only perspective that mattered was [member=23018]Jonathan Gardner[/member]'s, and so she’d just have to bide her time and do the best she could in the meantime.
“One of these days,” she sighed wistfully. She didn’t bother to explain the situation again – Tracey was well aware of it by now, she thought. “Send me your schedule? Once things with the League settle down a bit I might have some more flexibility.” Reaching for her drink again, she settled back comfortably in her seat for the moment.
“Aside from not leaving my couch and snuggling my cat – no, no plans.” She grinned. They were close enough friends by now for Tracey to know that, while Emma was perfectly happy to spend nights in, she was always up for a little adventure: especially when it involved food.
“You free after this, or do you need to head home and pack?”
[member=23727]Toya[/member]
