"Oh."

She's briefly stiff with surprise when he touches her, and then her social anxiety is overridden with the desperate need for the physical comfort of someone else alive(...ish). Avedra gives a little sniffle, and then flings herself into his arms to cling desperately to him and cry, all thoughts of dinner utterly forgotten.

That's okay the dinner was mostly—uh—protocol? He has no idea how to court someone not at court, okay, this is all wrong and he has no idea how to deal with it he has no script.

But fine. It's fine. He is—half-certain that the crying isn't bad, she did mention it earlier, and—he'll just hug her and run circles with his thumb on her back and hopefully that'll be the right choice?

Judging by how she's nestling into his arms and nuzzling a little between quiet sobs, yeah, it seems to be the right choice!

How long is he going to keep holding her? Because she'd really like it to be 'forever' but doesn't want to impose.

Well, they do have forever but he's pretty sure she's gonna get bored of it before forever, actually.

Yep! Or at least, she remembers that dinner exists, because eventually she sniffles:

"... I'm sorry, I think I um. Ruined dinner a little."

He half-smiles, at that. "One of the things we have done away with, in the course of inventing food anew, is it ever getting cold. It'll hold for as long as we want it to."

“Oh. That’s really nice, then. I’d have felt s-so bad if the chef went through so much work, and then I didn’t even try it. Though I meant more in the sense of, um.” Sniffle. “This is probably not how you expected the date to go. So. Sorry?”

His shoulder Zerin has several terrible suggestions for what he should say to that and it is at this point that he decides that having an imagined version of his lost husband on a date with someone is probably not a great idea so shoulder Zerin can go stuff it.

"It's true," he agrees easily. "I had expected it would take me longer to have you in my arms."

There, that was much less crass than what shoulder Zerin was thinking.

She splutters and laughs at the same time. Perhaps 'sporfle' is the correct word for the sound she made.

"I. Well. I can't really argue with that, can I," she snickers, reaching up to gently caress his cheek. Probably they should talk about his lost husband at least a little?? How does she do that though! That sounds so difficult!

Okay now even he can read that bit of body language, up close. "Something on your mind?"

"Oh! Um. ... You're married? Or were? Probably we should um. Have any kind of conversation about that??"

Viego has to turn away and cover his lips a bit because laughing directly would be so rude.

"I mean I realize it's been a while and you haven't seen each other in ages, it's just I don't, want to, um. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he says, voice slightly choked. When he turns to look at her again he's managed to control his face into a normal smile. "—sorry. It's just, ah, I actually never really did manage to explain the concept of 'monogamy' to Zerin. He would have been very bewildered that you were even asking."

"Oh! Heh. Okay. And... he'd want you to be happy regardless? Is my impression?"

"Certainly." Honestly Viego feels like he'd have really liked to meet Avedra annnnnd no this is veering too close to missing his husband and he does not want to doom and gloom this date let's not think about that.

Snuggle snuggle.

"I should probably mention that right after you invited me to dinner, my immediate urge when left to my own devices was 'hunt down Zerin and drag him back,' but I decided that was unlikely to fit in the time before dinner. Just, uh. That might be a project I want to work on. Both because he does seem to keep launching raids outside the Shadow Isles, and because, um. Well. You're. You're obviously very sad and miss him very much?"

"Is it that obvious?" he asks, lightly, but there's a strain at the back of his voice, as if he's making it light. "I suppose it is. I... have tried, for a thousand years. The method I used to transport myself to where you were, and transport us back here, is new; it makes use of how the Black Mist is everywhere on these isles, and is all part of the same thing. I... do not think others could make use of it, not in the same way, not immediately. But still, it has always been too risky to seek him out, myself, and he is always far enough from the bigger cities that anyone else who does chances losing their senses of self." He shakes his head, then looks at her again, a strange intensity in his eyes. "Another project you would be a boon to, though one I am not sure I can justify, given the other demands I must impose on your time. It would be... selfish."

He's pretty sure he knows what she'll say to it, and he... kind of wants to kiss her over it. It's—thoughtful is not the right word. Seeing something broken, something one could fix, and immediately starting to plan around it. It is a kind of heroic responsibility you cannot find often.

“It’s not very, I think. Or it’s… you can to be happy too?? You’re allowed to fight for yourself instead of just everyone else. So. I mean. Yes, clearly I’m going to work on that too.”

Even if she’s admittedly a little afraid the sad, pretty king will forget about her the minute he has his husband back, but. Love is not about possession. Quite the opposite, really. If she likes him and means it, then him being with her is irrelevant. Also if he’d ditch her the minute his husband is back she’d rather know sooner than later, but. Still.

The thought comes unbidden again, and this time he voices it: "I think he would like to meet you.—the full him, not the husk he's made himself that you ran into."

“I’d like to meet him too! Properly, I mean. Though I’m admittedly a little cranky he successfully threw me in a magic cage.”

A smile. "He is perceptive. But I think talking about my husband is perhaps not the best conversation topic for our first date."

“Probably not. But um, it did seem. Rather important to talk about, you know? If we wanted to be at all serious about each other.”

Viego's old enough that the multitude of emotions that bubble to the surface don't turn him catatonic. He can process them later, when he has more time to look at them and think about them. For now he notes that he has emotions, that he's not sure what-all they are, and that they have the familiar tang of an interconnected web of things reinforcing and suppressing each other rather than anything more straightforward. Then, he lets it pass, because they are not useful right now.

"I believe you're right. I... don't talk much about him, anymore. It's been too long. But I can't forget—none of us can, a mixed blessing if there ever was one. I just don't look in that direction often."

“Yeah. I understand." It hurts, to poke at old (mental) scars. She understands that very well. And probably she's poked at his scars enough for one date. Not everything needs to be quite so emotionally front loaded.

"... Think we can eat dinner while snuggling?" she wonders, giving the poor sad king an out from heavy topics, "Because I do absolutely want to try it but think it'd help to be held for when I inevitably get overwhelmed."