Introductions, dining, then idle chatter. A vesper ritual of greeting fresh faces, departing, and commencing the wait for that "Second date?" text.

Only for hope to diminish when the active chatroom rots into a soundless graveyard.

Will this be another one of those nights?

"Enjoying dinner?" manifested behind the glass rim, rosy-red lips eager in partaking wine glugs. A sip of the deep garnet hue coated her tongue—dark cherry, plum, and subdued vanilla teased her senses. Loosening the muscles, amping up the charm, so they say.

"Mhm," hummed the other through a sealed mouth, rending tender fibers of buttery meat. Fleeting attention to her, then to the halved protein, and chomp, chomp, off you go. That's it? Chewing's all the response?

"Good." She pushed forth a smile, stressing ear-to-ear for politeness. Magnetizing your heed to return to her was one passionate urge, and so she ought to land the glass's base... There; an inch ahead from the satin-clad tabletop's diameter, breaching the illusory line that kept her personal bubble hers, and yours yours.

Her digits withdrew to grasp the silvery shank of her cutlery, basked in overhead golden tints. But ah-ah-ah, plainly eating off her plate until pristine would be a humdrum.

Slow; meticulous, she ribboned a quarter, her sawing now a carbon-copy of yours. Then, pronged until succulent juices taking residence in the interior's savory-brown-to-warm-pink gradient spilt in her mouth. She munched, gulped—all at your pace, not a second too late.

Affective mimicry. Can't look away now, can you?

"Is this your first blind date? Normally, people exchange questions about each other.

Casual stuff," shrugged she.

"But, I think the most important one is..." brows floated loftier than the crested rims of her glasses as a mused whisper, "What gets you really going when you're alone? With anyone?"

So scant that—oh, yes, do lean yourself forward, strain your ears to hear amidst surrounding gab.

"In bed," flashed a knowing glint, "if you get my gist."