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Rosalind Lutece

Doctor of physics, professor at Recollé University.

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I'm glad.

[She means it, too. Rosalind glances up at him, then towards her car. They're at his home, and presumably that means they ought to part ways, but . . . well. There's something about his smile she doesn't like. It's genuine, that's for certain, but it's slight and wavering, and she doesn't feel good about leaving him be.

She glances up at him again. His hair's still mussed from the hat, and this time Rosalind gives into her impulse: she leans up, brushing her fingers through his hair, smoothing it out. Her fingers are slender and cool, and though it only lasts for a few seconds, she's attentive in her task.

But she won't linger. After a few moments, she steps back and says briskly:]

Want a ride?

[he is surprised at her touch to his hair, feeling a lot like a young boy. it's a nice feeling though, is what he thinks, and he's appreciative of it. he finally stops fidgeting with his hands, now that that's done with.]

[at her question, he can't help but feel a bit... confused. his place is right here, isn't it?]

[--oh]

Would it be okay to go to a bakery?

Of course.

[She smiles as she heads towards the driver's seat. Someday, maybe, possibly, she'll let him try driving it, because while she loves her car, she's also growing increasingly fond of Prompto, and surely that's a treat.

But for now, it's enough that he'll get a thrill out of riding in it. The ride is fantastically smooth, the engine so silent you can barely hear it, and Rosalind adores pushing past the speed limit.]

Hungry for something in particular?

[this car is so pristine inside and out that prompto's afraid of moving around too much.]

[at her questions, he edges around for an answer, settles for keeping his eyes out on the road... considering... and then turning to glance back at her]

I wanna buy a cheesecake. Noct likes sweet things.

[??]

--do you also like sweet things? Would you want some?

[Oh, lord, but he's sweet. Rosalind smiles again, startled and pleased by the question.]

I like sweet things on occasion. Not cheesecake, though. My preferences run towards biscuits-- ah, cookies, to you.

[Americans.]

A pity I don't any any English sweets. You might like them - our chocolate is superior, frankly.

I can't really have anything with milk in it.

[he looks down at his lap and puts his hands against his tummy. he loves sweets, but why you gotta make him sick for it...]

Chocolate's kinda hard for me to like.

But... [he's determined!] If there's something at the bakery you like, let me get it for you, okay?

[She makes a note of that. It's not that she's about to start baking him things, but hey, if she ever feels inclined to get him something sweet, now she knows what to avoid.]

A cookie, then, if you please. Perhaps you can even come in this time when you deliver it to my home, hm?

Wow. You mean you don't live in your office?

[clearly, he's teasing. and, clearly, this is a sign that he's feeling slightly better. and that he finds himself comfortable enough around rosalind to joke around like this.]

[he turns with a bit of a smile]

It'll be more than just the one, uh... biscuit.

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