He glances at the menu, doesn't have a reaction to the prices, then says, "I'll have the spotted dick, I believe."

"...why is British food like this. Uhh, Ed, what was it you had last time, that was nice, I want that."

Edmund observes Eric's non-reaction to the prices and, in turn, does not roll his eyes. "Right. The fruit tart... and with spotted dick we'll want something really flavorful..."

He walks up to the counter. "Could we get spotted dick, a fruit tart, and the damson-rose Victoria sponge? And for tea, a pot of the honey vanilla masala and a small pot of East Frisian black."

     Niamh nods, tapping away on the register pad. "Posh today."

"I'm always posh, I just don't usually indulge."

"You can't have this RP accent and not be posh, they go hand in hand."

"What's the occasion?" Eric asks, lightly.

Edmund collects the sponge and the dick, leaving Pete to retrieve his tart.

The Victoria sponge, now that it's been mentioned, is a very pretty bit of pastry. It's a dome of cake, with a cut along the center full of pinkish cream and deep purple jam, just barely not dripping over the sides. Atop it is an entire crystallized rose, surrounded by a mandala of candied rosehips on a field of rough golden sugar.

Edmund places it in front of Eric's seat, then, before he can react, licks the spotted dick all around its rim. "Ha! There, it's mine now and you have to eat the stupid posh pudding."

Eric narrows his eyes and lifts an eyebrow, looks down at the sponge, looks up at Edmund, then folds his arms.

(Pete thinks it'd be funny if he sat down and went "What'd I miss?" but actually what he's doing is just sitting down and watching them in silence.)

Edmund pours the custard over his spotted dick and takes a bite. "Wow, this is lovely," he says with his mouth full. "So rich and uncomplicatedly sweet. Workmanlike, but with an essential dignity - I love an unpretentious pudding."

He narrows his eyes even further. "Pevensie, you are such a dick."

Pete sporfles and actually chokes a bit on his pudding and has to grab a napkin to cover his laugh-coughs.

He is not reacting to that either!!!!!

"It would be a shame," he continues, "if this lovely spotted dick went to someone who wants more out of their pudding than sugar and eggs, and I had to eat that art piece masquerading as a pastry. It's got rosehips. Think how complex the flavor profile must be. I assure you I'd hate it."

He sinks his tiny dessert fork into the sponge and then forks it into his mouth. Sullenly. And he does not appreciate the taste at all.

"I'm sorry, are you two having a moment, should I leave...?"

Now it's Eric's turn to choke on his food, somewhat more violently than Pete did.

"No, you should join in! Eric-baiting is a proud Pevensie tradition, and as a Pevensie I welcome you to partake."

"Oh is," cough cough, "he a blood-brother," okay he needs some tea first.

"I think if anything I'm a Pevensie by, you know, not marriage but that axis."

No sorry he's still got food down his airways and is going to need a moment.

"I can't make him my blood-brother, we met two days ago! It'd erode the whole institution. I am inviting him as a guest."

Record scratch. "Two days ago?"

And that sudden intake of air did not help matters with the coughing.

...shit. It probably won't help if he remembers aloud that it was actually yesterday morning, either.

"It- well -"

The thing is, he was doing so well at pretending he hadn't gone completely insane and fallen head over heels in love with Pete after ten hours' acquaintance. (And rutted like wild animals after two.) He had managed to almost entirely forget how that happened! But Eric, unlike Pete, actually knows him, and knows that he doesn't behave like this.

He does, actually, have a justification that makes sense of it. The revelation of Pete's origins and abilities probably qualifies as trauma-bonding, and definitely enough outside his context that he had no pre-defined way to react. This isn't something he or Eric could've predicted in advance, because nothing like this has happened to him. It's not even unreasonable for him to have reacted like this. He's received stronger proof of Pete's character than he should have access to yet.

Unfortunately, the whole argument leans on secrets that aren't his to tell. And even he can tell that its legs are wobbling.

It's not as if teenagers never... make hasty decisions. And he is a teenager. He could play it off that way, and he'd get away with it, and Eric wouldn't even be suspicious.

But -

he doesn't want Eric to think he's being a silly little boy. Flinging himself after the first person who shows an interest.

...maybe he should stop acting like a silly little boy, then.

"Eric, I don't have a ring in my pocket. I like Pete. I think he's grand. But we decided to try things out, and we're enjoying it so far, and – that's all this is, right now. Even if I've gotten carried away a few times. I know I'm moving fast, but." Helpless shrug. "I'm a Pevensie, isn't that how you'd put it?"

He might need some actual water to be able to say words here, actually.