Zechariah smiled, smooth as butter, and clinked his glass to Elijah’s. His eyes gleamed with unshed tears.

It looked perfect, on paper. What more could he ask for?

He cheered when Elijah spoke of food. Oh! Did he cook for himself? What a delightful lower class existence! The smile grew amused at ‘particular diet’.

“If you err toward vegetarian and refrain from cooking insects in, it is practically kosher.”

Cozy. Elijah preferred cozy, whereas Zechariah tried to keep everything but his office looking plausibly vacant. Should he get more things? But space was wealth. A crisis for another time, he supposed. Children would ruin everything soon enough.

“Your home is--” tempting, a terrible idea, “--lovely, I have no doubt of this, but perhaps some air would do us both well.”

He hated grass. Man was designed to sit and eat in upholstered chairs.

Elijah smiled as he sipped his drink. "Fantastic then. I'll be sure to keep that in mind and make something that I hope you'll love. " He ready knew what to make, he thought. Sadly he didn't think he'd have any chance to get alcohol that would please the other. "You bring whatever you want to drink though.." he said at last though he hoped it didn't sound like he was skimping on the most expensive part.

"It's alright , I'd never wish you to push yourself to come to my home. I don't think it's ever necessary. I'm happy to come to you or meet in the middle, right ?" He could guess he'd been to Simon's home or knew of it. So he wouldn't look down on Elijah for his small home, but he might find it a little cluttered on the shelves and maybe he didn't like indoor animals. Everyone had their own ideas and now the constable was over thinking things.

"Ah, I'll bring the rest. I have a basket and a blanket thay will be perfect."

Why did ‘make’ and ‘love’ have to occur in the same breath? This man was the sweetest torture. Or- he would be, if Zechariah were a less responsible, committed man!

Permission. He had permission.

… Responsible!

“I can bring the food and drinks,” Zechariah offered.

Mr. Benjamin would be thrilled, he was certain.

Elijah looked at Zechariah confused. Slowly he gave a very cheerful almost lopsided smile. "The point of the food was that I'd be cooking it. Just bring the drinks." He laughed softly and sipped his drink. "It'll be nice. I will find a quiet spot with a lovely view so we can have an enjoyable time. Just have to hope it doesn't rain."

He was sure he could pick a good clear day. He worked on finishing the risotto though he truly wished it had more flavor. It made him turn more to the drink and he wished the waiter would come for a refill.

“Drinks, drinks,” he laughed, flustered. “Right. I can handle that. What am I pairing with?”

Drinks were the easy part. Here Elijah planned to work away on a meal and the most chopping Zechariah did was with a steak knife.

Zechariah, too, picked at his food, the waiter suddenly absent as the champagne bottle sat empty.

Elijah smiled and looked away, "Ah, I think sandwiches are a safe option. Maybe some stew as well? Something not too heavy for a picnic." It seemed like a great idea, but the other man seemed to be growing distant and losing interest in the conversation. Was he uninterested in the picnic? Or just the conversation. He wished he had more to drink, but the waiter wasn't there and he barely cared for another bite of the risotto though it was rude to refuse to eat it and he knew to be grateful of any food especially when it must have been expensive. He continued to nibble at the food but looked ahead of him. "Is.. everything alright? I am sorry I'm not great at conversation. You probably could have had much better company tonight."

“Excellent, excellent,” Zechariah agreed.

Ants. Oh, God, ants. Last time he had gone on a picnic, it had been with Penina. She had said she wanted him to be able to court a woman properly, and then seemed to promptly abandon that idea after his reaction to ants.

Before Zechariah could confirm that (ants aside) everything was quite fine, thank you, Elijah was apologizing for bad conversation, generally existing, and insisting he could have been somewhere better.

Zechariah furrowed his brow in open confusion. Weirdly, he too felt diminished by Elijah’s poor esteem with nary a single word said, well, directly about him.

“… What?” he managed.

Then leaned conspicuously into the aisle, looking to and fro for a waiter. One spotted him, and Zechariah nodded to the empty champagne bottle. Clearly his mind was clouded by the absence of drink.

Wordlessly, the waiter snatched the empty bottle off the table and whisked off into the distance.

Elijah had started to look down, and began to let anxiety get to him so he started to toy with the corner of a glove. He looked up at the reaction only to see Zechariah flagging a waiter for more drink.

"It's just...you seem distracted. I am worrying that I don't know own what to say. I wish I could match your wit or cleverness or come up with something to catch your attention again."

He immediately regretted his words. He was being too open with his thoughts again. This was not a way to have satisfying conversation for Zech. He immediately raised his hands.

"Forget I said anything. Let's celebrate you being a father. Right?" Of course there was no drink to toast. Was he only enjoyable to be around with alcohol? It would explain the lack of friends

Would a loving god truly divine ants of all things? Certainly, it took all types in the world, and he supposed a lot of things went awry after Eden, but truly. Ants?

An army of six-legged vermin were trekking through his brain, marching on still as Elijah cited his distraction. Not knowing what to say, insecure about his wit, and by the way – it was utterly imperative Elijah think he was thinking something wittier, cleverer, than what if I get ants up my pant leg again?’

He had the vague sense that he should reassure Elijah about … something? Existing? Not existing? Not being an ant? EUGH. Ants. Instead:

“Yes,” he agreed, inattentively. “Children. A thousand- children.”

Zechariah smiled, then remembered Elijah was feeling insecure, and so frowned sympathetically.

While Elijah felt that their conversation had been in a downward spiral, his eyebrows shot up when Zechariah mentioned having a thousand children. "Well.. that.. that is quite a goal. I suppose it is a good thing you are starting now. I am surprised, but I am glad you are loving the choice you made. It's nice to see someone happy." He had been, in a pathetic way, begging for some sort of turn in the conversation to prove he wasn't boring the man before him. That this dinner wasn't a huge mistake, but the comment about so many offspring seemed absurd and he could only go along with it. He couldn't voice his self deprecating worries any more. That would guarantee that Zechariah would never speak to him again.

The frown appeared and Elijah stared down at the table immediately, not wanting to see what he could only assume was disappointing. "Well.. after the birth.. when .. you're prepared for visitors. Let me know. I would love to bring a gift of some sort, though I know you will be a great father and definitely spoil any children you'll have." He offered, grasping at anything to cling to before finally running out of words.