Bianchi’s. James had to plug the restaurant into his GPS, letting the electronic feminine voice fill in the silence in between the Hot 100 hits on the radio that he kept on low volume. Low-key and not so nice that they would be turned away for wearing jeans, especially since they were going for lunch instead of a wine filled dinner. In a way, it surprised him, especially since he knew that Fiora would be present. And who knew who else. Or what else, for that matter.<br/><br/><br/>The focusing part he was having difficulty with. There were too many thoughts circling around, like sharks smelling fresh blood in the ocean, honing in on it. He wanted to know what the sound in her voice meant, if anything, or if he was only hearing things. He wanted to wind the clock back -- all the way back, and relive things all over again. Or… to just wind it back to when they first met in the shop, to try and unbumble the things he had done since then. He wanted to reforge himself, but that was an itch he got every twenty years or so -- time to rewrite, rework, relive. And it was only about then that he fully realized that his had been a lonely existence thanks to his chosen lifestyle of staying alive to begin with.<br/><br/><br/>Relief and tension both rode the current when he finally did pull the car into the parking lot, turning the key of his old clunker to kill the engine. He hesitated, hands falling into his lap as he looked over at her with a weird grin on his face.<br/><br/><br/>“I don’t know how this is going to go,” he admitted. “But you might need to drive back yourself if it goes a certain way.” He tried to pass it off as casual, humorous even, but there was still a hint of regret, or fear, in his voice. Reaching over, he handed her the keys and raised his brows. His hand loitered on top of hers with the key hand off. Leaning over, stole a quick kiss against her lips, then leaned away as his hand released the door latch and he could step outside into the sunlight.<br/><br/><br/>Once inside, he could feel their party before he saw them. All the way in the back, the smiling hostess swept up a pair of menus for them and led them to a table in the back of the restaurant, where the back of his neck started to tingle, his blood thrumming as its magical infusion from the night before picked up another fae in his presence. While his might be synthetic, the draw was no less real. It was no wonder the full bloods were so attracted to their own kind; it was almost incestuous. What he had infused himself with was also going to gain him admittance into their realm, if they got that far with negotiations. Could be that Fiora killed him on the spot and that was that.<br/><br/><br/>Speaking of Fiora, his eyes snapped to her almost immediately. After all, she did look like a fucking super model, though that wasn’t the reason. Blood spoke to blood in this instance. Or, in Fiora’s case, the glamour she exuded was enough to have all heads snap to her attention. Even though she claimed to be Winter’s Queen, she didn’t look the part. There was so pastel pale or stark white like you might expect. She wasn’t Elsa from fucking Frozen, that was for sure. No, the fae woman was flush with youth, sporting a healthy tan, and had a full head of dark curls that spiraled down past her shoulders and down her back. A pair of sparkling blue eyes rose up from the bread sticks she had pulled in front of herself to the duo being seated.<br/><br/><br/>At her left, Remy himself sat, still as a statue. He perked up once Lane and James approached the table, smiling graciously. He even stood until they had both taken their seats, clearing his throat once everyone was comfortable. Or as comfortable as they were going to get.<br/><br/><br/>“Thank you both for coming at such short notice. I did invite two other guests, but given the change in venues and time, I’m not sure that everyone is going to make it. So, we can get started. Would you like some bread while you look over the menu…? Lunch is, of course, on us,” the consort started politely while Fiora watched them like a hungry wolf, silent but assessing, a growing smile widening on her face.<br/><br/><br/>“Gideon, you look unwell. Has it been that long since I’ve seen you that you’ve actually managed to age?” The feminine voice chimed, elegant as well as soft. She pushed the bread basket towards the two of them as her attention flickered to Lane, her face lighting up. “You must be Lane, the witch, but more than a witch. I can sense that in you.. The power.”<br/><br/><br/>With the way the word power dripped off her tongue, she made it sound sensual. She even reached over, plucking a lock of blonde hair and twisting. James reacted then, his hand snapping out to loop around Fiora’s slender wrist, his face an unreadable mask. The fae queen’s feature went blank, blue eyes growing dead as they turned back to face him. “You used to glow with power, Gideon. Now all I sense is a wastrel, honed down by a human’s inhibitions. Drugs, right? That’s one of the reasons why you are here, is it not?” Even though her voice still held it melodic chime, the tone was flat when she spoke. Carefully, Fiora plucked her arm from his grasp, inclined her head at the two of them. “Why don’t you tell me what you want?”