"It very much is!"

Well now she is going to smile at him between bites of delicious expensive food. So there.

He smiles right back at her.

"You have a nice smile," she sighs, without really meaning to.

"Thank you!"

"... Oh, wow, I actually said that out loud, didn't I, um. I mean, I meant it, just. It's a bit more corny than I try to be?"

"I assure you I don't mind."

"I think this is another situation where I might mind a little! I don't want to be - I don't know, straight out of a cheesy discount romance novel."

"But then, where would we be if no one ever complimented each other for fear of sounding trite?"

"Probably in a very sad, lonely world," she admits. "Everyone afraid to give compliments and upset that they'd received none, without ever knowing why."

"What a terrible world. I won't stand for it. You have a lovely smile," he says, gazing fondly across the table at her.

"Yeah, well, so do you. Ha. Take that, I have defeated you."

Giggle. "Oh, but I haven't given up yet! Let's see... you have a lovely smile, you're strikingly reasonable, charming, pretty, hilarious... I'm sure I can come up with a new one, let's see... oh, I know - and you're thoughtful and conscious of your effect on the world. There. I think I'm winning this battle," he says, smugly.

... This seems to have made her briefly speechless. That probably means he's winning this battle.

"You're - that's - you're," is all she manages. Is that a blush? That looks like a blush.

He beams.

"Shush you haven't won, I just need some time to recover," she sniffs, trying not to laugh. She only mostly succeeds.

"Take all the time you like. I can wait."

"Good, thank you." She sits up, takes a deep breath, and gets to the business of winning.

Esvetielle fixes him with a look that is only softened a little by the hint of a smile at her lips. "You," she says, with utmost gravity, "are ludicrously talented, wonderfully handsome, smart, confident without straying into being actively obnoxious. You're well spoken in a, a more concise way than I'm used to, when you want to make a point you make it, instead of fluttering about trying to find the right thing to say. Like a, swordsman running around in a conversation, occasionally listening politely, and occasionally stabbing people. You're up front in a way a lot of people aren't, and I really appreciate it, I don't feel like I have to navigate complicated social etiquette or worry if I'm being lied to, you're just." She waves a hand at him, as if this expresses her point. "And also, you're very sweet and you light up every time I smile, and it's really great."

"Well," he says. "I admit defeat. Delightedly."

"Pleasure sparring with you, I'll try not to gloat." She winks, her smile irrepressible.

"By the way," he says, grinning, "you are exquisitely cute when you blush."

"Thank you," she says primly, pretending that this has not caused her to blush more.

He smiles fondly across the table at her.

She smiles fondly back, trying to keep a damper on her smugness. This works about as well as it did for the smile and the blush, but he's spared from gloating. Instead she focuses on finishing her delicious meal before she has any sort of chance to complain about coldness.

The food is delicious. And yet, unaccountably, Sekar seems to be paying more attention to the company.

But he does finish eventually, and pays for their meal and stands up and offers her his arm.