Masitda Restaurant, Baltimore, Wednesday Evening

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To tell the truth and shame the devil--a saying Kathy's mom had adored when she was alive--when Dante had suggested that they go out for Korean food, Kathy hadn't expected much. Dante didn't speak the language, didn't know the culture, and his only real introduction to the cuisine was what Kathy cooked at home and the hundred of weird bottle and jars of seasoning she kept in the door of the fridge, next to the more normal bottles of mayo and ketchup and relish. It wasn't that she was expecting it to be bad or anything, but she'd figured something middle-of-the-road, declaring its authenticity by blaring k-pop from the mid-2000s with two kinds of kimchi at most and a couple of sushi offerings to round out the 'Asianness' of the menu. All of which would have been perfectly fine and Kathy would have gone home, full and happy, and not given it another thought.

She realized she was wrong the moment they stepped into the restaurant. It smelled like home, evoking a sense of nostalgia and homesickness so sharp she rocked backwards on her heels for a moment. The table next to them had seven different banchan bowls on one side of it and over the shoulder of another patron, she could spot a menu page devoted entirely to different kinds of kimchi, several of which had seasonal warnings next to them. Apparently this place thought it wouldn't do to serve Yeolmu-kimchi in the middle of winter and you know what? They were goddamn right.

Kathy reached for Dante's hand, squeezing it tightly, letting her grip speak louder than she could right then about how pleased she was with his choice of restaurant for the evening.

[Not for broadcast and for that guy she's with!]

Comments

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Kathy raised her eyebrows. "Still feeling conflicted about him?" she asked.

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"Don't you?" Dante asked.

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"Less than you do," Kathy said. "But yeah."

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Dante shook his head. "Better not to ruin a good night talking about him," he said.

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See, Kathy wouldn't even categorize talking about Ezra as ruining the night, unless it somehow led to an argument with Dante.

Either way, though, she wasn't committed to keeping the conversation going.

"Anything in specific you wanna talk about?" Kathy asked, fluttering her lashes at him.

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"Besides how good your boobs look in that?" Dante said.

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"No, that's a perfectly acceptable topic," Kathy assured him. "I down for hearing you wax poetic about how pretty you think my tits are."

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"'Cause they are," Dante said sagely. "Some people are like, the bigger the better? But they're fucking idiots."

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"What do you look for in a nice pair of--" Kathy broke off as their waiter came back with their drinks. As he was setting them down on the table, she snuck a look at the bartender who'd made her Screaming Orgasm and waved.

"Shoes," she continued, looking at Dante and practically daring him to run with it. "If not size, what are you looking for in a good pair of shoes?"

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"They gotta fit," Dante said smoothly. "That's all."

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She raised her eyebrows at him in a silent Well done. "But fitting is so subjective," she said, pretending to think about it. "What makes something fit properly for you?"

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"Not subjective at all," Dante retorted. "'s all about proportion, right?"

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"So the shoe should be designed for the foot around it?" Kathy asked sipping her drink. The alcohol burned a little going down, harsher than the soju, and unfurled warmth through her. "Not a fan of clown shoes?"

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"Clown shoes suck," Dante said, taking a big sip of his own drink. "Especially the cheap ones where they're all hard on the outside."

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"We've talked about fit, but does feel enter into it at all?" Kathy asked. "Shoes that are soft or feel every little thing around?"

The waiter was taking an order three tables away, but now Kathy was having fun.

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Dante let out a soft laugh. "It's gotta be soft when you touch it," he agreed. "But hard in the right places."

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"Right in front, like a little decoration?" Kathy said, their laughter mingling in the air.

She just wanted to treasure this moment forever, full and happy and laughing and in love.

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"Like the cherry on top," Dante agreed, oh-so-seriously.

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"Always been a fan of cherries myself," Kathy said, fishing hers out of her drink and popping it into her mouth.

A moment later, she stuck out her tongue with a neatly knotted stem resting on it.

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Dante broke oh-so-serious character and cracked the fuck up.

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"Don't you laugh!" Kathy ordered, which might have held literally any water at all if she weren't laughing, too. "I had to practice that!"

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"Hope you were practicing it so you'd have the perfect punchline," Dante informed her, "'Cause you just did."

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"Let's see you do it!" Kathy retorted, untying the stem and holding it out for him.

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"Nuh uh," Dante said. "I got enough cool party tricks."

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"Look, Glowstick, just cause we can shut off the lights and turn you into our own mini-rave doesn't exactly mean it's a party trick..."