Further north, the Mishima had been grilled to an appropriate 55 degrees Celsius and garnished with Portobello mushrooms and wild arugula, from the rocky coasts of Portugal. The venerated carcass had been ceremoniously devoured by the enlightened carnivores and suitably digested with a vintage Château Mouton-Rothschild.
Lucy swirled the rouge spirit in her glass.
“Satisfied. Completely satisfied.”
Benjamin observed the culinary remnants of his plate.
“It was a very delicious meal. Thank you.”
“Well, I hope it wasn’t too painful. I’m just a curator, who dabbles occasionally. Living with Claire Mulberry, your palate must be absolutely intoxicated.”
Benjamin responded, in kind.
“Edesia smiles on you as well.”
Lucy blushed, despite efforts to conceal such displays. However, Benjamin’s affections were drawn toward the sizeable painting in the outer room.
“Is that The Boulevard Montmartre at Night?”
Lucy followed his gaze.
“It is, though it’s only a well-commissioned copy. The original is being held hostage at the National Gallery in London.”
She consumed the stimulating beverage.
“Those silly people refuse to let it go.”
Lucy completed her wine.
“Another drink before dessert?”
Benjamin stared at the celestial siren.
“What’s for dessert?”
“Strawberry mousse!” Lucy beamed. “Though I’ve never attempted it before, so if it’s inedible, you mustn’t be cross with me.”
“In that case, I’ll have a brandy.”
Lucy paused momentarily.
“I remember being a child in ’88 and having my father take me to FAO Schwartz where I spent the entire afternoon frolicking on that massive piano from the film, which was released in that same year.”
And now Lucy smiled.
Implode. Part XLIX – DK