With both their sweet treats happily consumed, both models agreed it was time to move on.  Anton noticed how the parlor was making good business today, what with the temperatures outside.  Giggling at something she had just teased him about, Magdalene drew close, touching her shoulder to his.  About to reply, a familiar sight caught his eye instead.  That red hair was like a beacon in the dead of night.  For that matter, it was like a beacon even in broad daylight!  Smiling, he approached his upstairs neighbor’s table, while his companion wondered why he had deviated from the path to the shop’s exit.<br/><br/>“Hey, Stella,” he beamed.  “Fancy seeing you here.  Probably need some frozen relief from those obnoxiously spicy tiger prawns from last night, huh?”  Anton laughed at the memory, but also at himself, for he too suffered through the Wrath of the Tiger Prawn.  “Damn, where are my manners?  Stella, this is Magdalene; Magdalene, Stella.”  Both women smiled at the other, though it was quite obvious that Stella wished to be somewhere else.  Anywhere except for where she currently sat.  Unfortunately, Anton never picked up that vibe, chatting away like they accidentally bumped into each other in the apartment building’s stairwell.<br/><br/>“Think we already agreed that next time, that hot sauce stays on the shelf.  But those steaks sure were awesome!” Anton excitedly exclaimed.  Unbeknownst to him, the more they occupied Stella’s airspace, the deadlier Magdalene’s expression became.  And her focus was entirely on the redhead in front of her.  Thoughts raced through her head.  Who is this Stella?!  How do they know each other?!  They had dinner last night?!  What else did they do last night?!  Is she competition?!  To her credit, Stella tried to make eye contact.  Once.  Magdalene’s countenance that greeted her convinced Stella never again.  Deliberately, and slower than molasses dripping from a spoon, Magdalene’s right hand appeared at her side, as she intertwined her fingers into Anton’s, never taking her eyes off of Stella.  She made damn sure that the auburn-haired woman saw it clearly, which she did, if Stella’s squirminess was anything to go by.<br/><br/>Clueless Anton, meanwhile, kept yapping away to Stella about their dinner, Tesla, Licorice, and who knows what else.  A smoldering Latina was now holding his hand, yet he remained oblivious to the raw energy crackling in the air around him.  Close to panic mode, Stella wondered where in the hell was Brad.