So Let Me See You Smile Again [Blake]

[B l a k e]

Blake grinned. "I bet you make it look good'he grinned at her as he ran his hand over then nice cloth table top.

It was a deep blue color with gold flecks of thread, linging through the design. He dropped his gaze towards it, following the lines of the design. It really was extravagant. Everything about the place was nice and he wondered briefly if this had been a good idea.

He thought women loved getting lavished on, but sometimes they took it as a joke. Blake had been born into money. Hed gotten everything newsies hadnt, and even more so then most kids of his status. His parents made sure he and his brother had taken piano lessons, dance lessons, classes for education. She had made sure they knew languages of importance, and they made sure they had manners. You would think it was all in their best interest but it had all been for them. They didnt want to look bad in front of their friends and they thought the more they learned the better they would be towards their fathers business.

Unfortunately money was what brought them together, kept them together, tore them apart, and killed them. That along with raging jealousy and major anger problems, but that was beside the point.

Blake grinned over at her. "I just want to make this night special"he told her. "and I want you to know that everything I say to you... Its meant with every fiber of my being"he nodded. It was the only phrase that he knew how to say so people would take him seriously.

He was glad when she said she wanted to stay, not because then he wouldnt have to move them, but because he wanted her to over come her fears. he could see her fidgit but she was getting better.

blake smirked. "Well they have every right"He saaid, 'you outshine any one of the girls that are dining here tonight"he nodded. 'You really are beautiful gabbi" She was, he thought she was attractive when she was dirty and wearing ratty clothing, but when she cleaned up and dressed up, she really was gorgeous and he wasnt going to let her forget.

He almost wanted to steal her away and keep it to himself. He wanted to be special that he was the only one that knew what she looked like dressed like this, but he couldnt. He wa alreayd over thinking himself and putting a lot of stock into something that he knew he couldnt have. Even if she may want it, he was incapable of it.

[Gabbi McGinn]

Gabbi laughed a bit at that--still quietly, though, and taking care to mind herself-- shaking her head no. "Not even da great Sarah Bernhardt could make d--that thing look good." She paused, shifting a bit, "Its what dey gave in the orphanage in Chicago. Even they thought it was ugly, though. It just made it easy to tag who we all were if any of us were running around the city."

Gabbi also averted her eyes to the table cloth for a few moments, this time not frowning or looking amazed at the beauty of it's intricities. She even allowed herself to smile a bit and could not help but thumb the tablecloth herself. If she were feeling really bold she would have reached out to take his hand, but perhaps she'd save that for later, or allow him to make that move.

She looked up when he began to speak again and smiled at him, more kindly than she'd smiled at much of anyone recently. Or, perhaps, since she'd moved to Chicago. Sure, her papa had always gotten her to smile, but it was usually a sad little smile. He hadn't been like himself after her mother died, but instead of coping well he turned into one big ball of self destruction.

Her brother had never been too kind to her. He'd protect her when necessary, but around the house he was never nice. And his cruelties weren't usually teasing--they really were mean. It hadn't been an issue until he'd acquired a certain group of friends, but then it slowly grew into a massive problem.

"You..'ve already made it special, Blake," she informed him, honestly and unjudgingly. "I 'avent had anything this nice done for me before. Ever," She paused, briefly, "And probably won't again. And I can't think of a guy I'd more rather, uh, be here with," she admitted, her cheeks flushing a bit at her admission. Really it wouldn't have been so bad, and might have gone realtively unnoticed, if she hadn't blushed. But that just made it something of a spectacle---at this point she could only hope that he was thick in the head.

Which he wasn't, typically. But she could always hope, or hope that he'd looked away.

His next comment made her blush hue to new levels. She smiled, shyly now, but this time got enough courage to reach her hand over-again feeling glad that she'd taken the time to scrub them painstakingly- and touched his cheek, gently, tentatively. Her tumb brushed over the side of his face and close to the corner of his mouth, but not too close She smiled again, then let her hand fall back to the table and recede over to her side again, her forearms resting against the wooden edge.

"Thanks," she said, although it wasn't much in comparison to what he'd said to her. A cocky response wasn't available just yet. She licked her lips, glancing down at the time. She didn't know what to do now, and again felt wildly out of character. Leaning in a bit, but not indecently so, just enough so that she could speak very quietly to him.

"Ain't used to havin other guys look at me, are ya?" she asked, grinning now. She was testing him, of course, but she didn't supposet that that was going too far with it. It was all lighthearted and in good fun anyway.

[B l a k e]

HE grinned as she laughed. He liked to hear her laugh, it was cute and it made her whole face light up. "I like that sound'he said, "No lies"He grinned at her. When she explained about the dress he chuckled some leaning back. "mm so why do you still have it?'he asked with curiosity. Their dinner rolls were placed in front of them and he reached over taking one and offering it to her, before grabbing one for himself.

He watched her gaze drop to the tablecloth as he fingers traced it. "beautiful isnt it?"he said as stopped talking once their waiter came by with their drinks as well as their food.

"Smell sgreat'He said'Doesnt it?"he grinned at her as he lifted his glass up. "how but a toast"He said. "to a wonderful night and a beautiful date"he winked at her.

He shook his head. "No... you're the one thats making this evening special'he told her and honestly she was. He hadnt ever enjoyed himself as much as he was now... and they werent falling all over each other or jumping each other.. nothing sexual.. well... they werent acting upon it like he usually did on his dates.

"and you never know, but i tmight just happen again"he said, "never say never... or else youll be hopeless"he nodded. "and being hopeless is never a good th ing." Blake had noticed the blush but said nothing about it. he didnt want to make her any more uncomfortable and awkward then she already was.

When she touched his cheek he lifted a hand to cover hers closing his fingers over hers and brought her hand down to his lips, kissing her fingers again. When she let her hand fall back to the table, he let her.

He chuckled at her hushed comment to him and shook his head. 'no..'He said, "and Im still debating on whether I like it or not'He said. He waited for her to add her own toast or clink their glasses before leaning back and bringing the glass to his lips taking a drink. His eyes watched her... transfixed.

[Gabbi McGinn]

"I use it to patch my skirt," she said, noting mentally that they were somewhat similar in color, though they differed quite immensely in texture. Ah, well. Her skirt looked somewhat decent, and the dress...didn't. She had a few other dresses, one in particular, reserved strictly for mass. But few people knew about it--hell, few people knew that she was religious at all.

But being born to immigrants and carted from one shitehole to the next, one almost had to be religious to keep from offing his or herself. It was only natural--if you got dealt a bad card in life, then you wanted to hope that the afterlife was better and this was really just a trial. Good times were rewards for good behavior, bad times were reminders and put things into perspective. And Gabbi was totally part of that odd little counterculture.

"Yeah, it is," she agreed pleasantly, beginning to think that she could get to liking this whole lavish thing. It was best, she mused, to enjoy it while she had the chance. If this was the only opportunity she got, then why not make the best of it instead of worry about not being up to par? No one seemed to notice her faulty speech or incriminating accent--the Irish weren't allowed anywhere in these days-- but rather took her in on a much more superficial plane.

Gabbi lifted her own glass, trying to make this look as though this dignified act was something she could have done regularly. Toasts, in her world, usually involved heavy, leaden-like mugs full of ale. Actually, it always had been. Her father had been a singer in pubs and a raging alcoholic, and he taught her the art of a frothy beer and how it should be handled in a public situation.

She touched his glass with hers, gently, noting that the glass here was not nearly as sturdy nor nearly as ugly as the pints mugs were. She let it down, and she smiled at the servile flattery that they were embellishing each other with. "I guess I'se can, uh, toast to dat," she said, trying to make her smile stick as her accent gave her away yet again.

She arched her eyebrow when he said that it may happen again, and she gazed at him inquisitively. "Under what circumstances?" she asked, though she was practically dying to refute his next statement. There was a point where she could no longer withhold it, and she tentatively began to say her next statement.

"But never's safe," she said, "It only leaves room for, uh, happiness. Hope gives yeh dissappointment 98 per cent of the time, and its much easier ta live with...melancholy...dan it is to live with constantly broken dreams." That bit of philosophy she'd procured from her mother. Her mother hadn't made it well known to her children that they were her biggest hinderance in life, but that was the sort of thing that a child picked up on over time.

Her blush turned pink when he kissed her fingertips, and she felt obliged to avert her eyes. Acting like a lady wasn't so hard when one acted upon instinct. A pretty little fan would have been a nice accent, but it also seemed petty and wasteful. Her money was precious, and she probably wouldn't have the opportunity to use it before it got crushed. Besides, she'd look silly with a fan.

Finally she looked back up at him, smiling furtively. "Be honest," she said, leaning back again as she sipped her drink contently. She wanted to hear what he had to say, honestly, and his answer may have very well been honest. But she wanted something more solid, more concise.

[B l a k e]

"ah..."He said with a nod. He gave her a small smile. "Well.. gotta do whatcha gotta do right?"he said with a shrug. In his mind he knew he would be getting her a new dress. He didnt think she would accept it, but hey he was going to try.

Blake didnt know she was religious nor had he ever actually thought about it. Blake wasnt massively religious by any means, usually only if he was in a bind would he ask god to get him out of it, but that was a natural thing for most people. He wasnt sure what his views were on the whole god subject. He wasnt going to go right out and say he didnt exist, but he wasnt going to go out of his way to worship the guy either. it was what it was and if he ever found out... well then he would treat the answer so afterwards.

Blake was pleased that she was enjoying this, its what he had been hoping for. He smiled again watching her before catching himself staring at her. He shook his head and looked back down at his food taking a bite. better to not over do it.. right? Blake had never actually noticed peoples differences, to him she was just gabbi. Beautiful, wonderful, firecat Gabbi.

Blake gave her a shrug. "anything..'He said "maybe these same ones, you never know"He said. "But never say never"he nodded with a firm nod. "You never know it could happne tomorrow, or.. the next day or four days from now. Itll happen when you're least expecting it"he smirked.

He gave her a shrug. Blake gave a moment to think as if he was trying to remember something before, in what seemed a practiced tone he recited. "It is necessary to hope, though hope should always be deluded; for hope itself is happiness, and its frustrations, however frequent, are yet less dreadful than its extinction."

With another nod he leaned back to look at her. "Hope makes us who we are, because even though you are let down over and over again, it also makes you stronger."

He loved it when she blushed it made her so pretty and female like, something she usually refrained from showing. He felt special knowing he was one of the very few to see her like this, of course those few did not include the eyes that were constantly going to her. He was starting not to like that, but this jealous feeling was not one he was accustomed to so he refused to show it, and in doing so ignored those feelings.

He just gave her a shrug as she told him to be honest. "I dont think IM at liberty to say so"He said. " My honest opinion, of course, may be delluded for your pleasure"He smirked agian.

[Gabbi McGinn]

Gabbi nodded. Yes, that was a popular aphorism of the wealthless citizens of the city. You did what you had to do to get by; you rolled with the punches, ducked below as many of the headsplitting blows as you could, and sometimes got out on top. But, usually, life kicked your ass. In the fight between you and the world, back the world. Gabbi didn't know who'd said it, or even where she'd heard it from. But it was certainly, certainly true.

Gabbi smiled, but found fault with his next idea of him doing it when she least expected it. "I'd least expect it when I'se old," she said, gazing intently at him with an irksome little smirk, "And by then I think you'se would have lost some interest." She paused, shrugging, "I would have, anyway." Granted, this was one of those fears that Cole had both instilled in her and capitalized upon. She'd never vocalized the fear before, but he'd sought it out. She supposed it wouldn't have been that difficult to do.

The fear of being alone when she was past her prime did frighten her, though. That fear was very real to her, and coming up quickly. Every day was a day that she spent getting older, and time would only pass more rapidly from here on out. It wasn't something she was looking forward to--there were very few jobs for old women, save stitching and cooking. Neither of them did her well without a family, though, and she certainly wouldn't be able to live alone on her own.

Gabbi twirled some of her pasta around her fork, reeling in the wormy noodles and winding them as tightly as she could around her fork to eliminate the strays. This wasn't how she normally would have eaten pasta--actually, pasta hadn't ever been a big part of her diet-- but she was playing the imitation game and doing as she saw the other, more proper ladies do it. It took some practice, and more than once the noodles slid off her fork challangingly.

The hot summer sun was relapsing now, benighting the city slowly but consistently. A stampede of dark gray clouds were rollicking in in massive numbers and with considerable speed. Outside the humidity was increasing, although this went unnoticed by the eaters because they were not, in fact, outside. A summer storm was swelling on the outskirts of the city, and had already drenched the not so distant farmlands and parts of Statan Island.

She also didn't believe what he was saying about hope. She'd been warned about this hope thing before in a very real way. Hope ruined lives. Hope ruined her father's life, and her mother had predicted it long ago. There had been an arguement, once, between her mother and her father. Her papa had been straightening a newly purchased dickey and setting out for a night in the pubs to perform, singing in his tenor voice to willing listeners.

There was a time-- in Ireland, before the children had been born-- when her parents had been happy. They'd both worked in a school in their youth, cleaning the desks and classrooms after hours. The couple worked from dusk till dawn and left just before the students were arriving. Both participants took great joy in their work, and it paid quite well between the two of them. Sometimes, though, they took pleasure in just playing in the classrooms, barely grown up baines themselves, and would write on the boards, play games in the desks, and make love on the couches.

The latter was what started their troubles. It was how her mother had gotten pregnant with Patrick, and thus begun the downward trajectory that was their lives. In seven months time her mother could no longer work, and her father worked less often than he had. He fell asleep on the job and awoke to an angry dean with curious schoolchildren hanging back, tugging at a matron's skirts out of curiousity and, possibly, fear.

The twenty third of February was when the good times broke and ceased to be ever again. Patrick H. McGinn was born on a cold, blustery night. That same evening, while the midwife toiled with the mother, the father took to the pubs, entreprenuing in a new career, one that would stick with him for the rest of his life. It stole more revenue and livelihood than it provided, however.

This new career was that of alcoholism. It had been acute for the first eighteen years of his life, but on that fateful February evening, it spawned a new interest that refused to fade and ultimately summoned the young death of Patrick R. McGinn, Sr, in the faraway city in the middle of nowhere-- Chicago, Illinois.

At any rate, an arguement spawned between her exhausted mother and her lightheaded father on this particular night. Gabbi had been waiting in the kitchen, clinging to the long, wooden legs of the table and waiting for her father to sweep her up, kiss her on the side of the head, and sing her a quiet song before heading off to work. She was nine years old, and recently moved into the first of several Brooklyn apartments. Her mother didn't take notice of her, as she prefered to ignore the children when she had serious matters to talk about.

"What are ye doing to us, Patrick?" her mother began, her hand gripping the countertop next to her. She'd been doing the wash for the woman who owned the laundering services for the better part of the evening, a task that left her hands raw and red, cracked and occasionally bloody. It wasn't as easy of a job as one might have expected.

"I'm afraid 'at I don't ken quite watche mean, my Molly McGee," her father hummed back to her, in a sing-song voice laced with underlying concern. He did take notice of his young daughter, but did not distract his wife with her presence yet. The best he could do was keep the tone lighthearted and hope that the young girl was too daft to understand anything else.

"I mean that ye evening job isn't paying thae bills, Patty. You haven't been tae thae employment agency in weeks. Yehse come home to me stinking drunk every night, sleep till noon, and don't do a Goddamned bit of work. Yer tips are all spent on the drink, Patty, and yehse deprivin yer own baines of food and clothing!"

"I can only hope that an opportunity will come for me soon, miss Molly. I'll go to the agency tomorrow."

"Hope for what, Patrick? There aren't any opportunities lingering in pubs waiting for you. You know the barkeep only tolerates ye because ye pay more for yese drinks than his other customers. Hope won't get you anything if ye don't got any ambition."

"Hope's all we've got, Molly."

"Then we don't got much, do we."

To this Patrick had no reply. He leaned down, scooped up his Gabbi-- who looked downright terrified, not having heard her mother confront her father like this before-- and pressed his kiss to her head. "Daddy will be back soon, dontche worry," he said quietly, smiling and kissing the tip of her nose. She smiled, but didn't look much comforted. Molly looked irritated at his incompetance. Patrick made a constrained effort not to allow Gabbi to face her dissappointed mother should some of those feelings impress upon his small daughter. It was bad enough that his wife thought less of him, but having his daughter face the same was more painful than he could tolerate it. It was bad enough that the children on their block mocked Patrick Jr about him, but his daughter was still relatively sheltered from that type of ridicule.

Gabbi looked back up at Blake, poorly attempting to conceal her troubled memories. "Hope aint ever gotten anyone anywhere before. Ambition is what gets people where theys wanna go. Hope aint nothin but a crock a sh....bull." She was fumbling, and not making a very good point of articulating herself. Ah, well.

Gabbi didn't know what deluded meant. It made her feel a bit doft, but it wasn't something she could help. "Your not at liberty to say your own honest thoughts? Thats something I never thought I'd hear."

[B l a k e]

At her worlds he raised his brows. “ah..’He said, ‘Well… maybe you never know” he said. “I cant say if Ill be around…. At all at that time”He said, “and I don’t mean like.. leaving you but I mean… living wise’He shrugged. He didn’t expect to live very long, in fact he didn’t expect to make it much past ten more years, it was just the way he felt. “though Ill have to admit, so far, you have got to be one of the few women I wouldn’t mind seeing still when we’re old and gray” he smirked. “Though… Im curious”he said leaning back and crossing his right leg over his left, his finger coming up to tap his chin. “Why would you be bored with me?”he asked. “am I really that type that youd be bored of after awhile?”he asked with a slight frown, though he smirked to let her know he was teasing.

Blake shook his head. “You have to have some kind of hope in order to have ambition otherwise what is feeding your ambition. Whether you realize it or not, hope weeds its way into everything” he nodded. Cole never understood Blakes preaching of hope. Cole had no hope, cole had cole and what he did. Cole believed that things go done because you did them, if you chose not to, then you didn’t, but if you did, then it happened.

Out of the life that Blake had it was a wonder he had such a positive outlook, then again his positive outlook consisted of him and a different girl whenever he felt like it. Added to that, was sleeping anywhere he ended up, and drinking all the time, not to mention stealing. He had nothing going for his life, all he had was a pretty face, smooth lines, and an addictive smirk.

Blakes life hadnt really been filled with any kind of hope, more like do this do that. You’re going to do what I want you to or else…

That was pretty much his life, his mother through him and his brother into everything she could think of. It didn’t bother Blake, because it gave him a reason to ignore his parents constant fighting. The only time the boys existed was when they were using them against each other, when they were taking their anger out on them…, mainly cole, or when their parents were telling them what to do and making sure they did it.

Though Blakes experience with their parents devil sides were limited. Cole had always been there to protect him, to send him outside without any kind of explanation. Though whenever he came back inside he would seek his brother out, showing him whatever little doo dad he had found outside that he thought his brother might like. He would always find Cole either in his room or in some place that didn’t have anyone around.

Cole kept his back to him, and Blake would say his name, trying to get him to look at him. All he would get was a look over coles shoulder and asked what he wanted. Blake would hold out the object and Cole would tell him it was nothing and he should stop bringing things into the house, because their parents would get pissed off. Cole would them tell him to toss it back outside and go into the kitchen to get whatever snack had been left for him before it was fed to their mothers cat. Of course that wasn’t going to happen, but it always had Blake running down the stairs, though instead of throwing the object outside he had always set it down next to his brother.

What Blake never knew was that the brownies that were left for him were usually made by Cole with the help of their cook. He also didn’t know that every object Blake had brought in Cole had kept, though he had always told Blake that he had thrown it out. Blake had always been disappointed to hear that, but Cole had his reasons. Blake never really understood his brothers problems and sometimes he had wished that Cole treated him like a real brother. All he had ever wanted was his brothers approval. All he ever wanted was for his brother to accept him, play with him like real brothers do, even brotherly hugs, but he got nothing. The only thing that he ever got any of that from was from some of the train yard dogs. Of course he couldn’t get hugs from them, but that was another thing all together. In fact they werent much fun to play with, they were usually foaming at the mouth and chasing him all over the place.

This of course started blakes rebelliousness. He was constantly stealing things, getting in trouble and charming his way through women. Yes Blake started that young as well. Unfortunately Blakes rebelliousness didn’t always work out for him and in fact caused more trouble for Cole then anything, hence why they left so abruptly nearly a year ago.

No there really werent any happy times in Blakes life, only the ones he made for himself. He didn’t believe in anything permanent, because like everything in his life, it wasn’t going to last. Blake always saved himself from any kind of let down and that was by sticking to himself. He still strived for his brothers acceptance, in fact it was the only thing he wanted. If he couldn’t have anything he at least wanted that.

Sure it was pretty much hypocritical from anything Blake said to people, but he never put himself in the factor. He always said things to make others feel good, to make others believe in things. Blake was just that type of guy to make others feel good regardless of what he actually believed. He really enjoyed making people smile, though for him people meant girls, or women for that matter. It was just him and the female gender were the type that he hung out with generally. Honestly there were maybe a few times in his life that he ever hung out with someone that wasn’t a female or a time that there wasn’t a female in the picture.

Men just didn’t come as easily to him. HE was an easy enough guy to get along with and he was funny and fun to be around, but guys were a lot more different from women and Blake always knew what to do when it came with women. Of course the smiles and the hope was usually dashed away when they saw Blake with another girl, whispering pretty words to them as well. Blake didn’t really see what he did to women because he thought that each one was different and as he dealt with each one at a time, that’s what counted. Things werent as shady to him as he would like to think they were. In fact a lot of times his thoughts were gray while his actions were black and white.

Blake looked over at Gabbi, he wasn’t sure how this night was going and honestly he wasn’t sure where this was going to take them. What if this was just a night of friends going out and enjoying themselves, or was this something more?

Was he going to persue this and keep it going? Probably not because then he would have so much more on his plate. He would step into that place that people get into and anything he and gabbi might have would go up in dust. Then again what if it went up in dust anyway? Why did he even have to come back and do what hed been wanting to do since before he left. Him leaving should have been clue enough that this wasn’t a good idea, that he shouldn’t have thought these thoughts. Someone was smiting him, telling him that he wasn’t allowed any kind of happy thought that he shouldn’t have even bothered to think he could have had it.

Though that last thought had him stop all together. Was he honestly wanting a future with gabbi. He turned his blue gray gaze to her and he gave her a slight smirk. He didn’t want her seeing any kind of thought that could be slipping out. He had to stop this. And then the door closed and all of those thoughts were locked away… for now.

Blake uncrossed his legs and leaned forward his elbows on the tabletop. “So..’He said, “who would like some desert?”he raised his brows with a devilish grin that may be alluding to something other then the sweets they served at this restaurant.

[Gabbi McGinn]

Gabbi didn't like to think about Blake's longevity, or anyone's for that matter. The oldest man she knew was the butcher down in Staten Island, but even he was ageless to her. She didn't know how old he really was, exactly. Actually, he might not have known either. It was always questionable with the immigrants, and the Irishers didn't often get along with--nor did they understand--the Germans.

She smiled unabashedly when he said that she was one of the few girls that he wouldn't mind sticking with. It wasn't something she was used to hearing, nor was it something she'd assume she'd hear him, or anyone else, say much ever again. "Aww, Blake," she cooed, in a voice that wasn't particularly natural for her. It was a few octaves higher than normal, and even something femenine and unscratchy.

She laughed a bit when he accused her of her saying she'd get bored with him. In all honesty he'd just misunderstood her. "No, I wasn't talking about youse. I was talking about me--if I were you, I'da gotten bored by then. I aint that complex," she said, forgetting for a moment to speak in hushed toneds and feeling embarassed again by her accent.

A few moments were delegated to a pause, a comfortable silence. Thunder rolled aimlessly outdoors, sounding distant at present but rollicking up, surreptitiously, against the sides of the city. Gabbi listened, for a moment, before lowering her voice to match the tone of the restaurant. "I don't think I'd ever get bored with you. Yer...fun. And spontaneous. Theres nothing to get bored with."

He did have a point about the whole hope and ambition thing. But she was going to argue it down. It was the bit of her Irish heritage left unclaimed by her Americanism. Or, adversely, perhaps it was the most American thing about her. She had yet to decide. "Or youse got a goal. And a plan. Not something that youse hoping for, but something dat you know you can get, ken?"

She winced with the useage of that word again. Ken. It was the bane of her Irish-British existance, and gave her away more than any other singular word out there. If a person were to watch only her face during this conversation it may have been comical--there were adverse alternations between discomfort, anguish, embarassment, joy, mirth, blushing, and other relatively femenine features. Flirtatiousness was at a peak, but was also concealed.

Gabbi grinned, maliciously, as he leaned in and suggested something that was probably naughty. Licking her lips, she looked left and right quickly before leaning in as well, indecently close, over her plate. She was mindful not to dip the dress into the sauce, and moved the plate, which she was finished with, to the side. In all honesty it had been one of the best--if not the best--and certainly the most satiating meal she'd ever eaten. Far superior to her usual rations.

"Dessert?" she echoed, arching an eyebrow, "And what, might I ask, does that entail?"