"Hey, house, my boy is adorable."

The lights briefly warm with amusement.

John smiles wanly. The house didn't seem to hear (or at least didn't respond) to him at all. (He has no idea why this so upsetting to him.) Well, hopefully it'll be more used to him in time? (Or possibly giving the house an internet connection will help? He can type to it then?) Regardless, he's almost done with the soup (though he does snag an extra biscuit once he's done, even if that's a little bit greedy of him, because there's going to be plenty more food to go), so it's probably time for the next course soon. What is this one going to be? (He has no idea.) 

Rosy is taking a little more time with her own soup, so it's another couple of minutes before she puts down her spoon (and picks up a biscuit) and the little cart trundles out to clear their soup bowls.

Then the cart comes back out to deliver: fish!

A fish it is, with shiny scales and head and tail and all! How... exactly are they supposed to eat that? As the cart moves closer, John can see it in more detail, but all he can see is well, a dead fish. It's not until the platter starts to float towards the table that John notices the slit down the middle and starts to get an idea (does it... is it inside like an envelope?), though he's now also confused by the pot full of red substance (is that berries?) floating close behind. When it lands softly without a sound some of his confusion is answered: the fish unfolds in front of them like a book, revealing the pale white fish flesh inside. (Minus the head and tail, that is. Those don't unfold. They don't seem to be a part of the meal, thank goodness.) And immediately afterwards, the rest of his confusion is cleared up, as a spoon dips into the jar and begins drizzling a thin line of the red substance (is that... jam? On fish? Well, he was right about the berries at least) over one side of the fish and then the other, each getting their own small berried stripe. 

The jam jar is returned to the cart and from underneath the house produces a bottle of... wine? (He's not going to drink that, is he? No, he shouldn't, especially with what's going on tonight, and also alcohol is bad, and he's too young and not allowed it... but he has no idea how to decline.) While the house is pouring the clear white substance into the tapered glass, he peers over at the fish instead. (He can bring up the wine later? Maybe? Or see what Rosy does?)

The flesh is gently steaming, and in addition to the jam substance there's a thin layer of some sort of thin clear sauce speckled with bits of green on either side, leaking down onto the platter now that it has more room to escape. "So, do we just take half a fish each?" John asks as the house finishes pouring them wine, leaving them the bottle on the table. 

"I think that's the idea!"

And indeed, now that the spectacle is over, a pair of extra plates float onto their plates from the cart and the fish separates itself into halves to serve one onto each. Rosy cheerfully digs in.

And John does the same himself. 

It's pretty good, for fish. The flesh itself is mild but still fishy (in a good way!) the thin sauce is buttery and adds flavor to the fish (the green things are tasty, whatever they are), but then he takes his first (slightly apprehensive) bite with the jam and all comes together. 

He chews slowly, savoring.

The jam is much more sour than he would expect jam to be, but it's not too sour, and there's certainly sweetness in there as well. But for whatever reason it goes with the fish and the sauce perfectly. 

"Oh that's... good," he says, once he finally finishes his bite. And then he goes for another, making sure to get the jam there again this time. 

"Isn't it just!" She's bouncing happily.

She's so cute when she's like this. He wants to reach over and kiss her, but that's probably a bad idea when they're eating food. Instead he's just going to grin across the corner at her. (And eat another bite of delicious fish.) 

The fish is so delicious. "I've got to figure out a way to ask what kind of jam this is..."

How would you go about doing that, if it can't even talk?  "Maybe it could bring us like, a sample of it? And then we could see whatever it is and look it up on the internet?" Is there even a place to do stuff like that? John has no idea, actually, but maybe there is? He hopes there is, otherwise he's going to look foolish. Though also he has no idea how to even look for such a thing, so he may end up looking foolish anyways. Damnit! 

"That's probably our best bet," she agrees. "I'll try to remember to ask after the meal; I don't want to interrupt the show right now."

"That makes sense," John says, and takes another bite, and eyes the glass of wine again. In theory it might go really well with the food just like the jam turned out to... but also it's alcohol and being drunk would be super bad and he doesn't want to mess up their plans for tonight (and they have such plans). "I, um, didn't realize we'd be getting wine with dinner," he says, in an attempt to broach the conversation (and feeling really awful to bring it up at all). 

"The house is old-fashioned. It's not going to be very strong, though, nobody likes a tipsy ritualist."

Oh, right, he hadn't even thought of that point. It... probably wouldn't be so bad to drink it then, right? Maybe he should? It would only be polite, and you can't really put wine back in the bottle, right? 

But what if he doesn't want to? And Rosy hasn't had any yet either? Maybe he'll have some if she drinks some? (Or... maybe he won't? Even if he should? Maybe he should try a sip? (But what if one sip makes him like the alcoholics he's heard about in health class and seen on tv?) Maybe... just a little?) John stares at the glass, uncertain what he should do. 

"Once again I ask, will you have an easier time making your own decisions if I promise to abstain in solidarity, or if I don't?"

...he's being really obvious to her again, isn't he. How does that keep happening? (Possibly because he was staring mournfully at the wine glass.) 

The last time she asked that question the right thing to do was to have the soup. This time... maybe it isn't? Or is it? He doesn't want to be impolite... but how impolite would it be, actually? It's not like the house made this wine itself (right?). It worked hard on the incredibly excellent soup, but with the wine it just picked it out from the cellar probably. Though maybe it worked hard picking out the right wine? Wine pairing is a thing, right, he's heard that expression. How impolite would it be... 

John becomes aware that he's been staring at his wine glass still (and letting his fish get cold, which is a dumb mistake, he should take another bite) and was asked a question. "I'm, um, not sure?" he manages. "I wouldn't want to keep you from trying it if you wanted to?" Though he doesn't want a tipsy ritualist either, now that he thinks of it. Not when things could go wrong in ways he doesn't want. But he has no good way of asking that of her (well, besides saying that they should abstain together, but that would be... well, that would be taking advantage of her, somehow. He shouldn't do that). 

"Left to my own devices I would have a couple of sips to see how it goes with the meal and then leave it, because I don't like a tipsy ritualist either, but I want you to feel comfortable making your own choices and if I can help by skipping the wine then I'll skip the wine."

"Oh, you could probably have a couple of sips if you want," John says quickly, happy to come up with a perfect outcome that won't cause him worry. A few sips probably won't do anything to her, he's pretty sure. (Or is he so sure... what if she starts drinking and can't stop?) "I... could try a few sips myself?" he adds, partly trying to convince himself. 

"I think the question of whether you should try a sip of wine should be entirely up to your own preferences and comfort levels!"

"I..." he stares at the glass again. He still doesn't want to, even though there's no good reason for him not to at least try it. There's no good reason to believe anything will go wrong, he's just being silly. 

He doesn't seem to be able to pick up the wine glass though. (Come on, he's being silly and dumb, it'll be fine, the house doesn't want to hurt you anyways, he should stop having so much trouble and just take a sip.) 

Perhaps it would be best to just leave him be and go back to eating her fish.

Maybe... John should do the same? (The fish is tasty, and the wine is, apparently, terrifying.) (Even though he feels like he's failing by giving up here. Failing and also mildly relived.) (Maybe he... doesn't have to drink the wine?) John eats another (delicious) bite of fish slowly and says "...the house won't mind? Even though... it opened the bottle and everything?" Maybe he should drink it actually. 

"The house absolutely won't mind."

The bottle is probably expensive or something. "Are you... sure?" She doesn't look like she's lying (and Rosy doesn't lie like that) but also he really, really, really wants to be sure. 

"Of course!"