"I haven't!" he says, offering her his most winning smile. "I am being forced to enjoy the finer elements of British cuisine."

"My condolences," she says. "Run before he gets to jellied eels."

"I'm not feeding him jellied eels!" Edmund protests.

"Sorry. Run before he gets to fish pie," she corrects herself.

"Fish pie is good!" Edmund protests.

"Vegetarian, so that one I'll manage to dodge."

"Right, nothing with a face. No stargazy for you."

The barista hands over a tart and a little glass cup of gelato, and directs them to a table.

"Should I wait for the tea or is it a completely separate attraction from the gelato?"

"No, go ahead and indulge. They'll bring out the tea in a bit." Edmund cuts into his tart, has a bite, and wiggles slightly about it.

"...you are extremely cute. And I'm going to have a bite of your tart, I need to shake it for its secrets if it can make you act that adorably. I apologize in advance for not wiggling, myself, though." And just like he promised, the narration does mention him having some gelato.

.......okay this is pretty good gelato, he has to admit.

"Mutual theft! Communism at its finest."

Edmund snags a little spoonful of gelato and offers up his tart.

Pete looks down at the plate then up at Edmund. "I think that's not how this goes. This is a date, so I am contractually obligated to," and he gets another spoonful of the gelato and then lifts it up to Edmund's lips to feed him it.

Mmf!

Edmund blushes furiously. After a few seconds, he opens his mouth to say something; a little bit of gelato dribbles down his chin. He fumbles for a napkin, dabs his chin, swallows, then says "You are going to kill me, I swear to Christ."

"No, I am going to kiss you. I thought we'd already agreed. Now, your turn to be sickeningly sweet at me. Ahhh."

Edmund manages to get a forkful of tart past Pete's lips despite his hand unaccountably vibrating. There is a slice of kiwi involved, because as the objective narration would like to remind you, the kiwi is the best part of a fruit tart.

Pete makes a surprised sound, and swallows it. "Okay I like your tart better than my gelato. Kiwi is my favorite fruit. Also." He pulls the hand that was holding the fork up to his lips to kiss Edmund's knuckles. "You are very cute. I know I'm repeating myself but it continues to be true. This was a great idea."

Edmund is never going to unblush at this rate. He leaves his hand in Pete's, trying to formulate a sentence.

The barista/apparently-waitress clears her throat. "I'll just leave this here," she says, smirking as she places a small teapot on the table between them. Edmund retracts his arm hurriedly, and she lays down cups, saucers, and other tea accoutrements as well.

...she looks weirdly familiar? Or - she looks weirdly unfamiliar. But she moves familiarly. Does that make sense?

She reminds him a little bit of Vivian, same smirk even, which Pete would normally not at all find remarkable so the very fact that he's finding it remarkable is remarkable. Why is the narration focusing on this? Is it a plot point? Should he be paying attention to it? Should he be paying attention to it now?

Whatever, it's a date with Ed not this person, and also his hetdar is anti-sounding here and maybe he's overcorrecting because of how she reminds him of Vivian but he's getting big les vibes. So. If the narration wants him to pay attention right now it'll tell him and otherwise he'll investigate later.

"I don't want you to feel pressured but I'm pretty sure she's a lesbian and is not going to judge us for being gay," he says, softly.

"Oh! I'm not - embarrassed of you - or of being gay, God knows - um. It's just... embarrassing. To be... having feelings? In public. ...I'm aware that sounds insane."

(The Viviish employee returns to her work, which consists of sweeping the floor and pretending not to watch Edmund make faces.)

(Pretending not to watch boys being foolish is one of Vivian's favorite activities, pretty close to openly watching boys being foolish, so that's not helping with the impression.)

"Very British of you. But it doesn't sound insane. It's a bit flattering, making a boy have feelings in public is nice. And maybe I'll do it enough times that you'll get used to it. You should be emotionally prepared for Hollywood dipping kisses and all that sappy stuff. ...uh, assuming you're fine with it. But I am a sap."

"I'm not emotionally prepared for it, but I think I'll adjust."

Edmund pours the tea. "Cream? Sugar?"

"I can slow down, and no idea."

Sip. "Cream," Edmund decides, pouring a small amount into Pete's teacup and none into his own. "Try it?"

Pete has had tea before, presumably. Probably what he's had claimed to be either Earl Grey, chamomile, or English Breakfast; it was indifferently steeped; and it tasted like either slightly worse water or boiled ink. This tea is not that!

Despite the emphasis in the name, the fruit isn't overpowering. It's there if he looks for it - probably even if he doesn't - but the flavor in front is tea, not bitter or sour but strong enough that it might be overpowering without the cream mellowing it. It's hot, just cool enough to drink without scalding himself. The lack of sugar leaves room for complexity in the flavor.

It's good tea.

"...alright, fine, fine, I'm going to need to let go of my American prejudices. This is actually pretty good."

"Pretty good! I will treasure this review. I will keep it by my heart always."

Edmund takes a more substantial sip of his own. "...now I want a scone, but we just had supper and even the tart is pushing it. My torment is boundless."