>>5566986>>5567866>>5570724Your sister barely even looks your way when Meryl and you pass by to check out some jewelry. Your wife takes a good look at the man Alice is infatuated with and tilts her head. He's got faint grey to his light hair, but is a fairly physically fit older man, complete with neatly trimmed circle beard. He could pass for a a university professor, especially given his vaguely European, obviously courteous accent. Is that Russian? German? Polish, maybe?
"I appreciate the gesture, young lady, but I really do have to go sooner or later. Besides, it seems improper for me to take a gift from a stranger." His evasive eyes and off-facing posture make it clear that he's struggling to break off this conversation without being rude.
"Just a meal!" she protests, brushing her chin with the back of her hand and fixing her hair. Good Lord, woman, you mind hiding that begging tone in your voice? "Come on, I know some good places here."
"Good? Here? That would be an accomplishment." His incredulous response causes Meryl to snort, and when Alice shoots a classic mean girl glare she freezes up seeing you. There's a moment where she makes pleading, tearful eyes, the pitiful expression of a girl who knows she's caught but wants her older brother to save his poor helpless sister. Oh, no, she's not getting bailed out of this one. The older man processes what's going on and steps back. "Ah, it seems you have... friends?" he hazards aloud. "And I already have a meal reserved, if I'm being honest. I'm meeting the son of a friend for business."
"Son of a friend?" That puts him in his forties, minimum. Alice bites her thumbnail and tries to salvage the conversation with a desperate Hail Mary. "Does your friend live here? Do you know the Woodsman family?"
"I suppose you could say that?" the older man juggles what he's saying in return, and when he scratches his brow you see a silver ring on his right hand. The same size as the one you saw for Yggdrasil.... But that can't be, can it? "Woodsman... I know that name vaguely, but that was... Eighty-nine?"
Alice's flirting enters an extremely entertaining death spiral, as even she realizes this is going to end badly. She even ponders withdrawing, from her gritted teeth and darting eyes. Still, she plays her last card frantically. "19...89? You don't look a day past thirty." Great save, idiot.
The courteous foreigner beams. "Thank you, I'm about to enter my fifty-third year." Alice's jaw drops, her face drains, her eyes glaze over. Meryl has to turn her back and laugh into her cupped hands. Your international guest takes the cue to go while everyone's distracted. "That'sthetimesosorrygoodbye," he dips out, making a beeline for the nearest exit with a relieved expression. Your sister's shoulders slump. Her despair at having tried to seduce a man three times her age in front of her brother fully sinks in. You savor the moment as your wife explodes into peals of laughter.
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