Here is Bella, catching up on her email, trying to come up with a reasonable mathematical approximation of the known abilities of evils versus arrows to guess how many dead people she can bring back with one of the latter, trying to come up with a prioritization scheme for putting her waiting list in order.
This round of mystery food is even tastier than the last, or at least Ripper seems to think so, judging by the way he's devouring it.
And indeed there is! This time the accompanying flowers are small and red, matching the beads on Bella's dress. Ripper picks one and offers it to her.
"Pretty," says Ripper. "Pretty and slightly disturbing. Just the way I like it."
"Yeah," he says, "and it kind of makes you look like you've been stabbed in the heart. But in a pretty, floral way. I don't know, something about the way it bloomed, or the light - it didn't look so gory on the vine."
She peers down at herself. "Huh. Stabbed in the heart in a pretty, floral way. Of course if I got actually stabbed it would bounce off my wards."
"And it would not be so pretty and floral. Now I want one," he laughs, picking a red flower and tucking it into his own collar, where it spreads out its petals so that their increasingly ragged edges take on the silhouette of an open wound across the front of his throat.
"Okay," she says, peering at it, "now I kind of see it. That would be an interesting cover image for a solo album, if you want to continue with the theme of you pretending to be dead."
"Are you liable to do solo albums? I just made that up, I actually have no idea what your plans are post-band-dissolution."
"Well, now I definitely want to take pictures of myself rocking the 'sexy, dead, and covered in flowers' look."
Bella laughs. "That will be interesting, I'm sure. But hardly answers my question; you could do a photoshoot and not attach music to it if you wanted."
"I'm gonna keep playing. And now apparently I'm gonna have brilliant cover art just begging me to use it. Yeah, I think I'll make a solo album."
"Awesome. How convenient that you have your own autonomous recording studio."
"I can't wait to see what you come up with." She pops the last bite of the current course into her mouth.
Their plates clear themselves away entirely, to be replaced by smaller, daintier plates accompanied by smaller, daintier forks, and each plate burdened with a single perfect piece of dark glistening chocolate cake.
All around them, white flowers bloom on the vines, unfurling delicate petals whose lacelike edges match the lace on Ripper's shirt.
"How about a kiss?" he suggests. "The real question being: before or after cake?"
"Well, I suppose that boils down to how patient we are and how important it is for kisses to be chocolate-flavored," says Bella. Her voice is even enough but she's blushing harder than ever.