He's thinking about the scores of people waiting by the Mittelfrank's doors, just hoping to catch a glimpse of Enbarr's darling diva? Considering just how annoying it would be to cut through that crowd night after night after night, but—ah. Ah. Instead of the exit he half-expects Dorothea to make—and who would blame her—it's a let's he hears. An offer to spend time together, and Felix finds himself blinking back at her, well and truly caught off guard. Dinner...
...Well. No is right there on the tip of his tongue, although that has less to do with Dorothea and more to do his, like, terminally unsociable self. Turning down invitations is practically a reflex, at this point in time—but the only things waiting for him are the piles of paperwork sitting atop his messy, messy desk, and Goddess above, but the thought alone makes him antsy. He's never been very good at sitting still.
Another thing he's never been very good at: ignoring a clear challenge, which is why his expression quickly smooths over once more.
"I suppose I have time," is his oh-so smooth way of saying yes, because despite Felix's foray into politics, he's the same as he's ever been. "If you have somewhere in mind."
And he could leave it at that! Could wait to see what she throws back his way, or snidely ask if he's expected to foot the bill for this outing, but it isn't like he cares—and he's also been in Enbarr for a few weeks, now. The chefs here have been eager to serve him their, ah, many specialties, and as Felix is a Faerghus boy through and through, he can't help but to pull a slight face before he hastily adds:
"Just— no fruit and herring tarts."
Felix is a rude boy, but here it is: a crack in his cold armor, brought about by his distaste for fruit and fish.
no subject
...Well. No is right there on the tip of his tongue, although that has less to do with Dorothea and more to do his, like, terminally unsociable self. Turning down invitations is practically a reflex, at this point in time—but the only things waiting for him are the piles of paperwork sitting atop his messy, messy desk, and Goddess above, but the thought alone makes him antsy. He's never been very good at sitting still.
Another thing he's never been very good at: ignoring a clear challenge, which is why his expression quickly smooths over once more.
"I suppose I have time," is his oh-so smooth way of saying yes, because despite Felix's foray into politics, he's the same as he's ever been. "If you have somewhere in mind."
And he could leave it at that! Could wait to see what she throws back his way, or snidely ask if he's expected to foot the bill for this outing, but it isn't like he cares—and he's also been in Enbarr for a few weeks, now. The chefs here have been eager to serve him their, ah, many specialties, and as Felix is a Faerghus boy through and through, he can't help but to pull a slight face before he hastily adds:
"Just— no fruit and herring tarts."
Felix is a rude boy, but here it is: a crack in his cold armor, brought about by his distaste for fruit and fish.