seveninchmotto | The Apartment, New York, Sunday

This was why you were Isabelle's one true love, Flick. This right here.

Okay, perhaps there were other, more pressing reasons. But she was beaming; her smile couldn't have been much brighter than it was right now.

"See?" she replied. "Only the best for you, baby."

Yeah, he was back to baby status. Not the food.

Flick was through half of his stew before he stopped to talk to her. He still didn't know exactly what was in the stew but each bite had gotten better and better. He wanted more.

"This is really good," he said, reaching for his wine to take a sip. "Thank you, Iz. This is exactly what I needed tonight."

Isabelle was much slower at working through her plateful. It was –– she didn't love it, but she thought it was fine.

And honestly? It was made better by his praise. "No one's said that before," she said with a chuckle before sipping her wine. "You should tell Jace."

"I'll tell him right now, if you want me to," he said, finishing his bowl and going for another helping. He didn't fill his bowl to the top but he still got a generous helping.

"Everyone else is stupid if they haven't said it before," he told her, shaking his head. "You're a good cook."

Isabelle was just abut moved by that.

Which meant she ended up smirking at him because pssht, she wasn't going to get emotional over finally getting the recognition she thought her food deserved.

"Oh, keep talking, baby."

"I can't believe you haven't cooked for me before," he told her, shaking his head and taking another few bites. "I've been missing out, Isabelle. This is better than anything I've had in months. It's perfect."

"Thank you," she said, and kept on smiling at him. "I'll cook for you whenever you want. Whenever."

Except during patrol time. Or when she just didn't feel like it. But other than that!

"I think I owe you a cooked meal after this," Flick pointed out, finishing his second bowl and sitting back, sighing. "Before I have to go back, I'm cooking for you."

"Ooh," Isabelle cooed. She'd eaten one (though heaping) bowl in the time he'd had two, and was now swirling her wine around in her glass. "Well there's something to look forward to. You've never cooked for me, either."

"I'm not a great cook," he said, shrugging and sitting back. He stretched out his legs and rubbed one of his calves against hers. "I should be able to manage something for you though."

"I'm sure I'll love it," she replied, nudging his leg with hers and smirking a little. More at the action than the words. "Not a lot of people have cooked especially for me, you know. It's a travesty, too, because I more than deserve it."

"Your past boyfriends haven't been as good as me," he said, preening lightly while he played footsie with her. "I'm a different breed."

"In so many ways," Isabelle noted. She finished the wine left in her glass. "For one thing, you're still a mundane."

For once, she was teasing. Not saying it the way she had in Idris, when she'd been winning the trust of the likes of Cartwright by playing up a version of herself from the past. Pre-Fandom.

"Yes, I am," he said, shrugging. "You fell in love me with as a mundane, though. You're gonna marry me."

"And now my dad knows it too."

She had to wonder whether that meant her mother would know it soon too. Not that her parents talked these days, but... that was big news.

"Yes, he does," Flick said, reaching to finish his drink. "He wasn't the first person I thought we'd tell."

Isabelle snorted. "No, he wasn't my first guess, either," she said. Shocker. Her leg rubbed against his, winding around it. "I thought it'd be Alec, if I'm honest."

"Him or my mother was mine," Flick said, stroking his foot up and down the back of her calf. "Guess it's time to start telling other people, huh?"

"I guess it is," she said, and smiled. "You wanna tell your mom together?"

Flick nodded. "I think that's a good idea. I have no doubt she'll love it but yeah, let's tell her together. I...will come with you if you want me to when you tell your brother or your mom."

He didn't necessarily know if his company would help but he didn't want to just let her do it on her own without offering.

"We can start with your mom," Isabelle replied, her foot rubbing against his calf now. "While we wait and see how strong the rumor mill is in my family these days. That'll have an effect on how we do things. We might not even have to tell them at all."

"I'd also like to tell Joi, if that's okay," Flick said, reaching under the table and bringing her foot up into his lap now. "She's the only other person I'd want to tell."

That was a nice move. She was perfectly fine extending her leg underneath the table for that.

So she was smiling for two things when she replied. "Of course you can tell her. You can tell whoever you like." A beat. "I just want to hear about her reaction."

Because she had no idea how that would go. Not badly, she assumed, but still. She was curious.

Flick started rubbing his fingers against her calf, pressing his thumbs into the muscle and smiling at her across the table.

"You can come with me, if you want," Flick said, shrugging. "We could tell her together."

Isabelle snickered. "When are you getting me my ring? It feels like I should be showing one off if we're going around presenting our engagement to people."

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