Delfina
True to her word, Dimitra was going to make Carina's visit well worth it. She'd tidied up the place, made sure it looked cozy and set the fire to a nice crackle. The nights were chilly and the house was a little drafty, but that wasn't anything a fire and some warm blankets couldn't fix. 

Besides, the oven was going with fresh bread and the stove had something delicious and meaty going, as she waited for her guest of honor to arrive. Admittedly, she was a little nervous! She didn't usually care what people thought, but Carina was a good friend, and there was a part of her that wanted to impress her. 

She took the bread out of the oven and hissed as she burnt her thumb, sucking on it and huffing before going to the cabinet and getting her finest whiskey she could offer. 

She hadn't had company over in a bit— she usually had a nighttime guest around to help fall asleep. She could give them physical affection and in return, she could get a good night's sleep. Falling asleep alone was not something that came easy to her; it was damned near impossible most nights, in fact. 

She felt her cheeks burn, remembering how Carina had reacted in the general store— how she'd felt so *Judged* In that moment. She hoped things went better this time.
Elinor
Carina was early. Much, much too early. She never really left town, and thus had a weak understanding of how long foot travel took to the residences past Main Street. Willing to kill as much time as she could stand in the cold, Carina stepped delicately off the ivy-tangled path that led to Dimitra's house. Exploring the property, she was surprised to see an automobile. 

Living in Briar Ridge had taught her that only the wealthy could afford to drive (of course she'd seen them all the time while living in Richmond), unless someone sponsored a car for you to support certain... Nefarious activity. It felt shameful that the presence of the car excited her, regardless of its purpose. It meant that either Dimitra was wealthy, or that she was involved in a particular dangerous vocation. 

Her hands were freezing– gloveless and clutching the meager offerings she'd brought to dinner: a tin of ground coffee and a box of soft caramel creams. She hadn't had time to bake anything. 

Unwilling to suffer the weather any longer, Carina pushed past the embarrassment of her ill-timed arrival. She knocked sharply at the door. 
_ _
Delfina
The knock came earlier than expected, and she nearly tripped over herself in the process of getting to the door. She rushed there and flung it open, smiling wide and bright as she leaned there. "You're early and you look frozen down to the bone," She commented, before pulling her inside the warm and cozy home. The fire was crackling, thawing Carina a little bit as Dimitra held her arm. 

She was dressed differently than usual; her curls pulled up on the top of her head to keep it out of her face, a bandana around it too. Her blouse was normal, and she was wearing *Pants.* Men's pants, to be specific. Usually she was in dresses or ruffled skirts, but Dimitra made pants look good, actually. The belt cinched tight around her waist, making her look quite fashionable and smart— these had belonged to her brother, and she'd knicked them when she'd gone. 

"Make yourself at home!" She clapped her hands together. "The food's basically done, actually..." She smiled and went to pull the food out of the oven, setting it on the table and beaming. "It's nice to see you, Carina, especially in *My territory.*" 

She gestured around the room and grinned wider. "Can I get you a drink?"
Elinor
"Ah," A simple human sound of relief escaped Carina as she stepped inside. Once the distraction of her near-encounter with frostbite (oh, the drama!) had passed, she was able to fully appreciate Dimitra's presence just past the doorway. In truth, the other woman made Carina's breath hitch, with her hair pulled from her features and her waist so neat and defined. Having stared too long, Carina looked away at last, flustered and thankful that the flush of the cold at her cheeks hid the flush from her admiration. 

She shrugged out of her coat, a cerulean blue wool peacoat, and peeled off her gloves: thin, tan colored leather, soft as the skin behind your ears. Beneath her outerwear was a mustard yellow, shin-length a-line wool dress with ¾ sleeves and a high neckline. An oval-shaped gold locket hung from a long chain around her neck, the pendant resting just below her breast. Her earrings were simple golden drops, smaller than a pinky fingernail. These two items of jewelry were among the dozen or so accessories she'd managed to take with her from her home in Richmond. 

She wore a touch of lipstick, just a tad deeper than her lips' natural mauve, and a swipe of blush across her cheeks. Her hair was still curled from that day in the shop. 
_ _

Draping her coat and gloves on the back of a chair in the sitting room, she cautiously continued through the rest of the house, her destination the kitchen. Dimitra's home was as expected (not that she'd wasted any time imagining it, no ma'am!): cluttered in a cozy kind of way, strewn with evidence of a life lived wild and free. Carina regarded the decor warily, having been unsettlingly disarmed by the environment too quickly and easily for her comfort. She preferred to be on-edge. It helped her to retain her faculties. 

*It's nice to see you,* Dimitra told her, and Carina supposed this was the part where she admitted it was nice to see Dimitra, too. It was more than nice to see her. It was exciting, and nerve wracking, and refreshing, and– well. Just really, *Really* Nice. 

"Dinner smells great." She said instead, keeping her face turned to the windows, fearing that her blush was still creeping. While she wanted nothing more than to train her eyes on Dimitra as she tended the stove, she wanted nothing less than to be found out for her staring. The nerve she'd worked up to flirt in the shop had receded. On her own territory, it seemed she was much more confident than here on Dimitra's. She worried about the power that this placed in her company's hands. 

"A drink, yes. I'll have what you're having." She didn't know what else to ask for. Wholly unused to having company or *Being* Company, she had no clue what would be available in the kitchen of another. 

"Your home is lovely," She managed, swallowing hard after the compliment as though bile had risen with the words. 
_ _
Delfina
She appreciated Carina; first of all, she was gorgeous. She was nice to look at, especially when she wrinkled her brow in distaste and huffed at her. Dimitra couldn't help but find it all too amusing to get her riled up, and she had a knack for trying to push people to the edge. 

She admired her a moment as she leaned on the counter, the flickering of candles keeping the room well lit. Dimitra grasped for her nicest liquor; a wine she'd actually gotten as a gift from a dock worker weeks back in the city. It was *French*, and she was sure someone as upper crust as Carina would enjoy something like that. 

She popped the cork and smiled as she poured them two glasses, filling Carina's up a bit more than her own and setting the bottle aside. "I'm still not used to a house with a foundation," She admitted. "I preferred life traveling in caravans, sleeping under the stars half the nights. But Briar Ridge is nice, too." She cracked a grin. "Especially since I've got all these friends. It was about time you came around! It's only taken me... What, a few years to get you here?" She teased. 

Dimitra set her glass down and turned to grab dishes of food and set them on the table. Fresh baked bread, a hearty and fragrant stew of meat and potatoes, and a decadent fruit dessert; clearly, Dimitra had been working quite hard all day to impress her dinner guest. 

"You look gorgeous, by the way," She said, winking at her over her glass as she drank from it. "Showing me up in my own home? For shame, Carina." A shameless flirt, she was.
Elinor
Seizing the opportunity of Dimitra's distraction with the wine cork, Carina's hungry eyes took in all they could while the other woman's gaze was occupied. She admired the curls that tried to escape the scarf that held them, and the delicate slope of Dimitra's cheeks into her slightly smiling mouth. Always slightly smiling. Carina would soon be smiling, too, if she didn't compose herself– but everything was right. Everything was warm and she was *Happy* To be in the home of another. Why shouldn't she smile? She didn't have an answer, and she surely wouldn't just *Trust* An impulse without reason. 

The popping of the cork led her eyes away, down to the bottle. She tried to read what she could on the label, so maybe she could pretend to know something about it, but the bottle was unmarked. Taking her glass tentatively, she raised it to her nose to sniff. Unused to alcohol, she scrunched her face, and that reluctant smile bloomed shyly as surprise and embarrassment tickled her. She sipped the drink anyway, and maintained her distorted expression. It warmed her belly, which she liked, and it was slightly sour, which she also liked. Tolerable. She took another sip to the backdrop of Dimitra's travel stories. 

What must it be like to have such freedom? To be unafraid of change? Maybe Carina would have the nerve to ask after another glass of wine. 

"I don't go out much," She admitted, looking down into her cup, "It's nice though." 
_ _

A well-adjusted woman would have offered a hand with setting the table, but Carina watched like an heiress being served. Her eyebrows arched in awe of the full spread, her stomach growling even though she'd eaten a more-than-adequate lunch. Miss Templeton's metabolism was almost as aggressive as her resting expression. 

The sudden compliment pulled her from near-salivation. She blinked over to Dimitra. 
"Thank you," She smiled, genuine but quick, "I needed to claim some kind of higher ground. I didn't know what awaited me here." She paused, attempting to muster some of her usual confidence, "The competition is steep. I don't quite know that I've bested you." She made sure to make solid eye contact with Dimitra before taking a seat at the table, again flaunting propriety as she did so without waiting for an invitation from her hostess. 
_ _
Delfina
"You know, I think we must balance each other out, then," She commented with amusement. "A lot of people accuse me of going out too much, actually! Can you believe it? Going out *Too* Much shouldn't even be considered a thing. There's so much world to explore, and I'd rather be out seeking adventures than stuffed up inside, personally. Then again..." She looked around her house with a sense of pride. 

"There is something kind of nice about laying down roots. At least for a little while." She smiled to herself and shrugged a shoulder, eyes flickering from the table to her guest once more. Carina was dressed quite lovely tonight, and she scrunched up her nose at the compliment she received in return. 

They were alone, with no one else to hear them. Dimitra's house was set back from a lot of the others, and she found she preferred her privacy when she *Was* Occupying her home; especially if she was bringing someone back for drinks. "I didn't know you were such a flirt, Carina!" She said in amusement and fanned herself as she took another sip of wine from the glass. "You're going to make me blush - it's not easy to do that, you know?" Dimitra beamed and had a seat by her, crossing one leg over the other as she sat askew on her chair. She could never sit normally, unfortunately, it was a bad habit of hers. She would sit anywhere but a chair, most times - preferring to perch on countertops and tables and on the arms of chairs over a proper seat. 

"Help yourself, obviously, there's plenty to go around." She grabbed the bread and cut a slice, ripping it in half and biting into it. She wasn't proper in the slightest in her own home; dumping potatoes onto her plate with a flourish and laughing. "I burnt myself taking the bread out of the oven, so you better enjoy it. My blood, sweat, and tears are in this meal!"
Elinor
Just as Carina was about to offer a retort about how, *Yes*, going out too much could be a dark mark on one's moral record, Dimitra offered her own (gentle) counterpoint. Carina couldn't understand this comfort in having feet in two worlds, where one could shift their weight and redefine boundaries and alignments with ease. She'd been carved from stone as a child: chiseled with propriety in mind from something concrete and immovable. There were rules and expectations and procedures. Changing one's mind was not so simple as shrugging on a new coat. 

Or was it? Dimitra was sure making a good case. 

"I guess I can be, in the right company." She smiled again, drinking her wine too quickly, "What can I say? You set a good example for bad behavior." She was having fun. She liked matching wits with Dimitra. Quick words were something she excelled at, and flirting was just a permutation of a snarky response. 

Carina was already heaping food into her bowl by the time Dimitra invited her to do so. While her hunger was brutish, her table manner was slightly less so. She applied a napkin to her lap, and daintily picked up her knife and fork. Even as she ate feverishly, she was careful not to smudge her lipstick. 

"I can really taste the tears. They make for excellent seasoning," She said dryly between bites. The food really was exquisite. Carina couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten something that wasn't cooked by herself or Mrs. Bigby. 

"Really, Dimitra, this is excellent." She blotted her mouth on her napkin, her great appreciation for food inspiring a sweet sincerity in her voice, "Where did you learn to cook like this?" 
_ _
Delfina
A sense of pride rose in Dimitra; drawing her shoulders back and sitting up straighter, she almost looked like a proper young woman sitting there, rather than foul-mouthed bootlegger like she actually was. 

So not only was Carina flirting with her, matching wits and subtle compliments, but she liked her cooking too. Dimitra could see that the woman was enjoying herself, if the eager way she ate said anything. Dimitra grasped the neck of the wine bottle and topped them both off with wine, smiling as she sipped from it. 

"My mother. Amongst other women who we travelled with. It took my mother ages to teach me how to cook, because I wanted to run off to the beach or the woods or the market at the drop of a hat. She had been a rambunctious little girl; scuffing up her body by throwing herself around with wild abandon. 

"You should come over more, I could cook for you more often," Dimitra pointed out to Carina. "Like I said before, I do get a fully lonely out here..." 

She grinned to herself and ate another hunk of bread as she gazed across the table at her companion. "Let me know if you'll want dessert. I can also make coffee!" She clapped her hands together and grinned in delight. 

"This is so fun. We really ought to do it more, you know?" She raised an eyebrow at her. Dimitra ached for connection like a mermaid yearns for the sea. "You don't have to answer now! Just.. Think about it?" She suggested before winking at her and flashing her a wide grin.
Elinor
There was naught to do while Dimitra spoke, other than drink wine and eat. Perhaps too enthusiastic with the wine, Carina's glass was nearly half empty again by the time her hostess offered dessert. The intense, dry tartness of the alcohol had grown on her, a fuzz of contentment blooming through her chest like a strange fungus with each swallow. Her expression went a bit vacant and dreamy as she began to wonder why she didn't drink more often. 

"I will absolutely want dessert, make no mistake. I have to do some good work on my dinner, first." Carina was serious about eating, though she did smile a touch, however involuntary. 

"I like your idea of fun," She teased, tearing herself another slice of bread and dredging it directly in the juices of the cooking pot on the table, "You can cook food and watch me eat it any time you'd like. I'd say that aligns pretty well with *My* Idea of fun." Carina looked up in time to catch Dimitra's wink and smile, and instead of pulling the shutters over her expression, she snorted with a puff of girlish laughter. 

Composing herself, she focused back on her meal, unable to clear a smile entirely from her lips. It helped to ground her in her typical sullen mood to remind herself that Dimitra was wont to soothe her own loneliness with company outside of Carina's. She would have to decide if this was something that mattered to her: if she could reap the full benefits of Dimitra's attention while knowing it was spent on others. 
_ _

That decision could wait. She had a full belly and a wine-soaked mind, with a beautiful woman across the table offering her sweets. Even Carina could willingly label herself a fool not to appreciate her present circumstances. 

"I'm just wondering what you get out of this deal." She said finally, "I suppose I could look the other way when you reach for the licorice jar. At least the next time, or so." She shoveled another forkful of potatoes into her mouth, and then pointed with her knife to the spot on the counter where she'd left the gifts she'd brought. 

"I don't know if you like caramel creams. I've never caught you stealing them, but I suppose that doesn't mean it hasn't happened. There's some coffee there, too." 
_ _
Delfina
With no nefarious intent, Dimitra was filling Carina's glass amply as she drank - with each sip, it was as if she could see the muscles in her shoulders unwinding, becoming looser and far more relaxed. There was a sort of hazy rosiness on her cheeks, too, that thrilled Dimitra to no end. 

She'd never heard Carina *Laugh* Before and the sound was absolutely brilliant. Dimitra felt a warmth bloom in her chest as she grinned and leaned an elbow on the table, watching her intently with glittering eyes. It was so brief, a *Blink and you miss it* Moment, but she could see the way Carina smiled, looking so open and honest for once, before the shades were pulled up tight once more to compose herself. She mourned the loss and bit the inside of her cheek, finding solace in the way Carina's mouth turned up at once corner. 

Dimitra had finished her food long ago, plate pushed aside, limbs folded on the tabletop as she'd just openly watched her with a smile. She couldn't help herself; the woman had a sharp beauty in her own right and she didn't mind getting caught staring. "What do I get out of this?" She laughed and tossed her head back. "No, no, I don't want you to look the other way," She said quickly. "Half the fun of nicking the sweets is in the thought of you catching me. I thought you'd figured that out by now," Dimitra smiled cheekily. 

But her attention was drawn to the sweets that Carina mentioned and she whipped around, flitting to them and grabbing for them, ripping open the wax paper to devour one immediately. She hummed and sucked the sugar from her fingertips with delight. "Thank you," She said, a caramel cream pocketed in her cheek as she brought a few more to the table to unwrap and eat. "I love caramel creams." She suckled on them to savor it, running her tongue over it methodically. "Almost as much as I love your company."
Elinor
When the buttons at the back of Carina's dress were finally straining against her full belly, she relinquished her fork, gruffly swiping a napkin across her mouth. Sometimes it seemed as though Carina Templeton was truly a tired 50 year old coal miner, father of 3, wearing the neat frock of a young woman. This was one of those times. She stifled a belch, but just barely. 

Watching her empty plate as Dimitra explained the ruse behind her cleptomania, that sneaky smile of hers came again, though this time she was less willing to fight the wine in her system to keep a straight face. 

"I guess maybe I'd had my suspicions." She admitted, stealing a glance across the table to Dimitra's shining eyes. She kept watching as the other woman descended on the box of caramels like a singular swarm of locusts, sipping her wine and enjoying the sight of her gift being enjoyed, in turn. 

To Carina's abject horror, Dimitra's next statement brought a *Vile* Blush to her cheeks. This, she could not control. This, she could not hide. She felt the sudden urge to leap from the table and bury herself face-first into the slush and mud outside the door. 

Now, Carina had always known she didn't fancy men, and that was putting it politely. She found the opposite sex to be repugnant– disgusting. Men were brutish, insensitive and indelicate. They were rough and stubbled and wrong. Carina had shockingly made peace with the fact that her obsession with propriety dead ended harshly at the boundary of sexual preference. Of course, this didn't mean she flaunted her taboo attraction, but she had become confident in her ability to sense similar company, and whenever she did find it, her frayed ends tended to reveal themselves. Carina allowed herself such little fun in this life, but flirting was one treat in which she gave herself permission to indulge. 
_ _

Call it blowing off steam; call it releasing a pressure valve. Call it an Achilles Heel if you must, but the truth was that a pretty lady could always find the weak points in Carina's welds. 

"I'm honored. Since you *Do* Seem to like those candies quite a bit." Her eyebrows were raised, and her scandalized blush was already fading, though there was a danger of it returning as her gaze caught on Dimitra's mouth, busy with a caramel. 

"Well," She began, jumpy, looking down at her glass, "I love *Your* Company almost as much as I love this wine." In a deeply uncharacteristic break from her stoicism, Carina could barely finish the statement for the laughter that erupted. When she tried to set her face straight, only her brows furrowed, leaving her grin intact in a silly half-frown. 
"You've got to drink more. I'm going to embarrass myself if you keep taking such polite little tastes." She insisted bitterly, palming the wine bottle and filling Dimitra's cup. She slouched back in the chair when she was done, her legs wide, dress tented over her spread knees, one elbow propped on her thigh, the other hand around her own glass. 
"Let's see, then. Have a proper sip." Her eyes narrowed, lips mildly tilted in good humor. 
_ _
Delfina
She was endlessly fascinated by Carina; the way her eyebrows knit and relaxed, mouth twisting into complicated shapes, like she was fighting her own face. She supposed that wasn't exactly far out of reach for Carina— the woman could be seen fighting a level of amusement whenever Dimitra came around to wreak havoc on the shop. 

She wondered if Carina was lonely. Especially now, with that house all empty... It made Dimitra's chest ache at the thought. She knew a thing or two about loneliness and what that could do to a person— she was sure if she brought it up to Carina, however, the woman would only huff and laugh and say she wasn't lonely; she couldn't *Possibly* Be lonely. She liked to be alone. 

She rolled the caramel cream around in her mouth, lips pouted a bit as she rolled it over her tongue and hummed in delight at the sticky sweet candy that warmed her to the core. "So you finally admit you enjoy having me around?" She mused and knocked her knee against hers, tilting her head back and laughing as Carina demanded she drink more. 

"Trying to get me drunk, hm?" Dimitra fluttered her lashes and picked up the glass, bringing it to her lips and tipping it back. With a few hearty gulps, she sucked down the wine like it was water, a stray red droplet slipping around the corner of her mouth and traveling down her cheek, her throat, down... 

"There," She set her empty glass down on the table with a triumphant grin and didn't bother with the dribble of alcohol down her face. "Is that sufficient for you? A proper sip?" Dimitra crossed one leg over the other and crossed her arms over her chest as she snickered.
Elinor
If the two women could share internal monologues, Carina would find that Dimitra had her mostly figured out, much to her chagrin. She fought herself constantly. She was lonelier than a single shoe, and she would spit like a cobra to be called out on it. Luckily for Carina, she could live in ignorant bliss of Dimitra's extremely discerning emotional intelligence. 

"You're alright, I suppose." She relented, fighting another smile, but quickly looking up in feigned insult as Dimitra made her accusation. 
"Trying and failing!" She said, letting the smile win. Her expression smoothed to awe as she beheld the sight across the table. Unabashed, she watched, and watched, and watched that drop of wine on its course as it spilled, slipped, rolled down Dimitra's throat. She could have openly pouted as it disappeared past the open collar of the woman's blouse. Carina was still staring at the point it had vanished when Dimitra set down her glass. 

Without tilting her face back up, just Carina's eyes moved to meet those of her company. 
"Hmm," She lilted, "Seems you let a bit escape," She traced the path of the drop from the corner of her own mouth, pressing her lips together as her thin fingers stopped at the neck of her dress. 

Though the wine warmed her and softened her faculties like pooling wax at the base of a candle wick, Carina did not reach forward with her napkin, as a drunker version of herself may do. She did not reach forward with her thumb and liberate the drop of spilled wine from Dimitra's skin. She also did not hold back the next words on the tip of her tongue:
_ _

"And what a lucky bit." 

Segments of velvety silence cushioned the suggestion, backgrounded only by the cracks of the fire. Carina straightened her mouth, but the look in her eyes was evidence of sinful thoughts. She placed her palms on the table top. 

"I'll reset the table for dessert." She announced, the adrenaline of her boldness beginning to awaken feelings that she dared not sit with. She needed to move, regardless of how much she hated washing dishes. She collected their plates and silverware and brought them to the basin, all the while running self-directed curses through her mind. *Whatareyoudoing, whatareyoudoing, whatareyoudoing?!*
_ _
Delfina
She wasn't blind; Dimitra had had enough eyes on her to know when someone was *Looking* At her in the way Carina was. She'd had an inkling, more than an inkling, actually, about Carina's *Proclivities* But this was all the confirmation she needed to hear. She couldn't help but laugh at her words, eyes following her as she scrambled up from her seat so desperately, as if fleeing from her own words. 

"Carina," She hummed in delight and stood up. "I didn't take you for boldness but I'll say— how *Bold*," Dimitra raised her eyebrows and wandered from the table to the counter slowly, voice low and soft like she was trying to coax a wild animal to calmness. If she moved too fast, spoke too loudly, she was liable to frighten Carina straight out of her house. 

Dimitra smiled warmly, leaning there, keeping a close but comfortable distance between them so as to not crowd her flighty friend. "I'd rather dance," She told her, grasping at her sleeve gently. "I'll bet you've got two left feet," Dimitra teased her. "Come on, let me put something on." A self-cranking phonograph, one of her prized possessions; a gift from her family before she'd left New York. It was expensive but it was beautiful— refurbished and a little ugly, but still beautiful. "Come on, come on!" She begged. "Don't worry about the dishes, you're my *Guest*!" She implored. "Dance with me, Carina," Dimitra said softly. "Please?"
Elinor
"*Bold,*" She muttered, bitter, "The wine has a voice of its own." 
It wasn't the truth, and she regretted saying it as soon as it was out. 
"You're a beautiful woman, Dimitra." Carina self-corrected, though the statement could hardly be classified as flirting, and was hardly warmer than her wine excuse. It was simply a fact. She could have said, *We're in a house,* Or, *It's winter time* In the same tone. Her eyes darted to Dimitra as she leaned on the counter beside her: a mouse suspicious of the cat. 

"*Dance!*" Carina whined, the suggestion completely foiling her attempt at stoicism. She'd thought she was about to sit down to dessert! And now she had to *Perform* For a treat.

"The pie will be cold by the time we dance." She complained, embarrassingly serious but infinitely less self-conscious of this emotional display than her "Boldness" At the table. She did love music, though, and so seldomly got to hear a record. And Dimitra's voice was so sweet in the way she asked. 

"My feet are as they should be," Carina defended herself, turning from the basin and smoothing her skirt. 
"I'll pick the record." She clarified, scanning the room for the phonograph. It *Was* Beautiful. She went to it, running her fingers along the smooth wooden sides, pausing on the crank. Her mother would call it sad, her father would call it garbage, but Carina had gained a healthy perspective on materiality since leaving home. This outdated hand me down, which once would have met a scoff from her, was in fact the most precious item she'd had the pleasure to behold in some time. Its rarity defined its value. The love it had known, and continued to know, gave it meaning. 
_ _

She picked a record at random, the content mattering less than the illusion of her control, sliding it from its sleeve and threading it over the pin. A few cranks of the handle and a setting of the needle brought *Music* To life. Sweet. Glorious. Nourishing. She allowed a few eyes-closed moments to herself before slowly turning to Dimitra. 

"Alright, then," She resigned, holding out her hand. 
_ _
Delfina
She was practically bouncing with delight, her persuasion of Carina was a sweet victory to her. She didn't mind handing over a level of control; she supposed that her companion always needed a level of it, didn't she? But she sort of liked that; that Carina wasn't afraid to tell her to *Stop* Or *Go* Or anything like that, because Dimitra needed that direction at times. 

The music was upbeat, just like Dimitra herself. A horn, a drum, a smooth voice... Dimitra clapped her hands together and reached for Carina's outstretched one, pulling her in closer. "One dance, then you can have a bite of whatever you'd like," She said, the words slipping past her lips so easily, like she hadn't said the most lascivious thing of the century. 

Her eyes glittered as her hands fell to Carina's waist, holding it firmly as she danced her across the floor. Dimitra was capable of dancing the male or female part, which was incredibly fitting to her versatile nature. She was delicate like a woman but tough as nails like men were perceived to be— she could handle herself in the kitchen and on the streets, and she supposed she was much like a shapeshifter at times. 

"Smile," She urged her, tossing her head back. "How can you look so grumpy when you're dancing, hm?" Her fingertips pressed a little more insistently into the woman's sides. "You can't, I won't allow it." She shook her head. "Though I'll say this—" Dimitra took a moment of thought. "You look just as beautiful with a furrowed brow as you do with a smile, so, I suppose you're lucky in that way, don't you think?" She asked cheekily.
Elinor
"Oh, so much for boldness– you're being lewd." She answered as they softly collided, hands in hands, hands at waists. Carina reached for Dimitra's shoulder instinctively, as she was taught to dance a lady's role. She was nearly done struggling with her composure, though it wasn't a conscious decision to flee the fight– the wine had nearly won her over, so much so that she couldn't pull down a grimace over her smile at Dimitra's promise. *A bite of anything.* This night was perhaps the most fun Carina had ever had, but it would not occur to her until much later in the night as her toes went numb in her unwarmed bed, alone. 

"It's a special talent of mi– hah!" She bubbled with laughter mid-retort as Dimitra hit a tender spot at her waist. No! *NO!* Carina Templeton is *Not* Fucking ticklish, so stop thinking whatever you're thinking!
"Don't *Do* That, Dimitra," She recovered enough to scold, though her company had elicited the smile she'd wanted. 

"I would argue I am *More* Beautiful with a furrowed brow," She argued, looking sharply into Dimitra's eyes, "It's stronger than a smile. There is beauty in strength." Their feet laced across the rug to the music, knotting invisible patterns wherever they moved. 

"I'd be smiling if I were eating pie," Carina finally sighed, though her hold on Dimitra remained solid. She supposed the closeness was nice, and dessert could wait a few minutes more. Dimitra was a good dancer, and besides the tickling– er... *Squeezing* Incident, a hand at her waist felt unspeakably lovely. 
_ _
Delfina
"Lewd?" Dimitra grinned and tilted her head. "I don't know, I don't think I'm being very lewd at all," She seemed so amused, eyes twinkling and grinning as she spun with little care in the world. 

When she heard that bright little half laugh past those lips, her eyes brightened and she pressed insistently closer, fingers stilling when Carina demanded she cease. "I've never heard you make that sound before," She said, fingers pressing into her sides just slightly before. Oh, this evening had already been far better than she could've imagined it to be. 

"You're absolutely right, you know, a furrowed brow is far more beautiful," She watched her a moment with interest in her eyes, spinning her and dancing her across the floor. As the song was slowly drawing to an end, she mourned the music and the excuse to touch her waist. She could feel the moment slipping through her fingers, and she chuckled weakly as the needle on the player skipped a moment. "I guess that's our cue, isn't it?" She asked her, fingers loosening their grip before her hands reluctantly detached from her sides. 

"Now, I've kept you from the pie long enough," She said, looking to the kitchen door. "I'll cut you a big slice, don't you worry," She winked at her and slipped away, heading to grab the knife and cut the pie for her guest. She could feel a fluttering in her stomach and a tightness in her chest she wasn't always accustomed to, and she exhaled slowly to calm her rapid heartbeat. 

"Coffee?" She asked over her shoulder.
Elinor
"Consider yourself one of a lucky few. I only make that *Noise* When absolutely necessary," Self-deprecation (however mild) was an absolute rarity coming from Carina, but her tongue was loosened. She could feel herself being enjoyed, which was also rare, but as intoxicating as the wine. This time, at the squeeze, she wiggled her way around the other woman's grip as not to embarrass herself so deeply again. 
For a few minutes as they danced, Carina was weightless. Untethered. There had been no tragedy, there had been no abandonment. There had been no uncaring sisters or greedy uncles. There had been no house in Richmond, no paintings to be stolen, no pearls to be left behind. All there was, was a small town and the warm souls that called it home. For a few minutes, it was as though Carina's soul had been simmering here all along, and Dimitra's had been feeding kindling to their collective fire. 

But the music ended. It always would. There was anger, naturally, when the record gave up. Carina flashed the phonograph a pout, because even inanimate objects must answer to her upset before she ever would. 

"You have," Carina agreed, "Though I suppose that wasn't so bad, after all." She hummed, "Sweet, in its own way." The words were almost lost to the small sounds of the room, quiet as they were. 
_ _

"Coffee." She nodded. It would have to be coffee, if the wine was gone. Investigating her glass at the table, she drained the last drop from it before picking up the coffee she'd brought Dimitra as a gift. She'd pre-ground it at the shop as a way to busy her hands: nervous before dinner. As Dimitra served them pie, Carina located the kettle and set it on the stove, standing back and crossing her arms as it heated, as though admiring the work she'd done to transport it. 

Domesticity was a novel concept to her, especially since coming to Briar Ridge. She'd never seen her mother or sisters perform household tasks. Those were taken care of by the housekeepers. Sometimes Mrs. Templeton would push the tea trolley down to the parlor for her guests, but its contents were always prepared by other hands. In Briar Ridge, Carina had taken years to understand the extent of tasks that fell on the average person without the assistance of a servant. She had been fairly helpless for much of that time, and still was at many things, but she'd come a long way. 

Her face angled towards the kettle, she let her gaze rove over to Dimitra. There was an alien emotion overtaking her, and she didn't know how to describe it. It was similar to when Mrs. Bigby let her leave the register early on a holiday, or when the old woman gave her a gift for her birthday. *Gratitude,* Was the word she was looking for. She regarded the feeling with suspicion, not wanting to owe anything to Dimitra for the kindness she'd been shown, but the suspicion didn't last. It was clear, even to Carina, that Dimitra *Wanted* Carina here. She wanted to feed her, to spin her, to make her laugh. As much as this confused her, she was... Grateful. 

"Thank you." She said, stiffly, hoping Dimitra wouldn't question the words. With luck, she would accept them in exchange for a slice of pie and nothing more. 
_ _
Delfina
"I consider myself incredibly lucky, then," Dimitra said, and her eyes crinkled a bit in delight as she openly and so clearly enjoyed Carina's company, it was hard to deny this was another moment of Dimitra's *Flirting* At work. She did, in reality, feel incredibly lucky to be privy to Carina's gentler side; to see her face soften, to see her open up a little at a time. She could visually see Carina's walls come down, if only for a moment, before they went right back up as that song ended. She mourned that feeling; holding Carina close to her and feeling the warmth of her waist fit so snugly against her palm. 

The smile on her face was warm and private as she was cutting the pie slice, looking over her shoulder as Carina set to task on making that coffee for them. To see her working so diligently at her stove, heart skipping just slightly at the idea of domesticity *Together* Was a little more than she could bare to think of. Dimitra loved the idea of marriage and togetherness and all, but she could hardly imagine Carina wanting to do that kind of thing. Besides, Dimitra wasn't so simple as to know what she wanted right then and there - there was the case of Abel Hughes to contend with, after all... Was she terrible? She couldn't help but wonder if she was terrible, not being able to decide. 

Carina's *Thank you* Caught her off guard but she paused and smiled to herself, taking the plates and forks with the pie on it and setting it on the table. She approached her skittish friend and put a hand gently on her lower back, before she was dipping forward briefly to press just the barest peck to her cheek in a sign of affection. "You're welcome!" Dimitra chirped happily and cheekily snickered before she was taking a seat. "That coffee smells *Divine*, Carina, you know exactly what I've been needing." Her eyes glittered as she watched her at the stove.
Elinor
Once Carina saw Dimitra turn and step towards her, she cast down her stare to the kettle that was beginning to steam. She couldn't quite figure out the rhyme or reason to times she wanted to be caught looking, and the times that she didn't. This time, she didn't, but she couldn't help but think Dimitra had likely felt eyes on her all the same. 

At the other woman's touch, Carina stiffened. At the sweet little kiss, she froze completely, incapacitated for a moment or so while Dimitra took a seat at the table. The affection served to sober her, just enough to panic. *What am I doing here?* 

She shakily made her way through the rest of the steps involved in making coffee. Filter, grounds, boiling water. She didn't know where or when she'd found Dimitra's small coffee pot, but suddenly she blinked and she was carrying it to the table. She blinked again and she was drizzling the hot water over the grounds. They bloomed, fragrant and thirsty. The scent was lovely, but it sobered her further. 

Dreamlike, Carina sat, serving coffee to the both of them before glancing down at her pie. She had wanted this so badly, just minutes ago, but now her sweet tooth ached: rotten and raw. There was a twisting in her gut. Was there such a thing as *Too* Much good attention? She hadn't thought so, but here she found herself up against that threshold. 
_ _

Carina missed the drafty, empty Baker house. She missed silence. She missed the clear, resonant peal of her own thoughts, when they weren't muddled with wine. 

But Dimitra– she hadn't done anything *Wrong.* Carina couldn't just leave now. She couldn't bear seeing that look on Dimitra's face again– the one that she'd brought about in the store earlier that day. By the same token, she couldn't sacrifice her own comfort enough to prevent it. 

It wasn't often that Carina felt overwhelmed in this way– that is, in such a manner that a hot flash of anger or defensiveness couldn't dispel the crowd of feelings that threatened to swallow her. This sensation was somewhere between grief and physically drowning, and she supposed it had been brought on by Dimitra's affection. How fucking embarrassing. 

The kiss had been nice. The acknowledgment of gratitude had been... Nice. But it was all too fast. For a woman who had spent the latter years of her girlhood into her late 20s in the sole company of an elderly woman, the onslaught of intimate attention from someone other than Mrs. Bigby was proving to simply be *Too much.* Carina did not know how to process it, or where to situate it within her thoughts. Dimitra disrupted her typical patterns. Somewhere within herself, Carina knew that it was a disruption she wanted to accommodate, but that could not happen in a night. 

"I'm feeling unwell," She said suddenly, shamefully. She didn't want to admit defeat, but her white flag was waving: surely Dimitra could see it on her face. Carina stood from the table. 
"I'm sorry–" She stammered, "I think I have to go." She could barely bring herself to meet the other woman's eyes. For all the kindness and warmth she'd shown, this was how Carina received it? How she repaid it? She really was beginning to feel sick, due in no small part to the wine, but owed mostly to her state of mind. 
_ _
Delfina
A mistake had been made. A broad miscalculation on her part, Dimitra realized her mistake almost as soon as she'd made it. The stiffening of Carina's shoulders, the way she looked strung taut, like the string of a bow. It had been too much, *Too fast*, and she'd scared off the feral barn cat that was Carina Templeton. 

There was a part of her that wanted to try and salvage the night. How pitiful it would be to beg, to clasp her hands together and ask her to stay— Carina would never respect her after that, of course. She could try to explain herself; Dimitra was affectionate, she was tactile, she did that to *All* Her friends. It wouldn't be a lie by any stretch; she hugged, kissed, cuddled and fawned over her closest friends with little thought. Lord knows, she'd kissed the flushed cheeks of Marianne Wilburn a dozen times now in their friendship. 

But she wasn't sure saying any of that would do much of anything. Carina was standing, she wasn't even *Looking at her*, and she felt a sense of sadness sweep over her. 

Would things ever be settled? Would Carina flee from her each time, afraid of her friendship, of something... *More* Than that? She felt her stomach churn and she tried to shove it down, tried not to look like a child having been scolded. 

"Was probably all that wine," She said, her voice far softer than she'd wanted it to be. "Please, take some pie home with you," She insisted and stood now, too, so quickly that her chair clattered to the floor. 

"Whoops!" She tried to laugh it off, but it came off far more manic than intended. "Clumsy me," She picked the chair up and cleared her throat. "Let me walk you to the door and... I'd love to have you over for dinner again, sometime. Please." 

That silent plea, for Carina to note hate her, avoid her... To just pretend it had never happened, if that would make her happy.
Elinor
Carina would never win any awards for her capacity to empathize, but still, the tension in the room bound her nearly to the point of suffocation. She didn't know what was happening. She didn't know how to explain herself, or moreover, why she felt the need to explain herself. Justifying her actions to others was a completely alien urge, but Dimitra had somehow inspired it in her. This realization prompted Carina to stare at her company with a blank, yet mildly bewildered expression as the chair clattered down and fumbling ensued. 

"Okay, yes." She timidly agreed to the pie and the escort, still debating on the invitation. Turning her back to pull on her coat, hat, and gloves, she drew in a few breaths, shaky and too-urgent. They still managed to calm her. At the door, a covered dish of pie was placed into her gloved hands. She finally met Dimitra's gaze, and volunteered one last smile for the night. 

"No," She told her, shaking her head, "You'll come to my house next time. Friday." There was no question. There was no option, but there *Was* A shine in her eyes. For her final trick, she wrenched control of their friendship... Relationship... Whatever it was... Back close to her chest. She wouldn't let it go so easily again. 

This felt good. This felt *Right,* Or at least better than things had felt five minutes ago. For a moment she thought maybe she didn't have to leave at all, but no. She did. Her mind was in knots, and she needed to untie it. 

"Thank you, again. For dinner." *For everything.* "I'll see you soon, Dimitra. Goodnight." 

Her steps were careful down the path from the cottage. She flirted with the treeline on her walk back to her quiet, empty house. When she finally settled into her quiet, empty bed, she swore she could feel Dimitra's hands around her waist as sleep claimed her. 
_ _