Claire smirked yet again. "Savory is essentially anything other than sweet. It can be herb-y, or meaty. Although ‘meaty’ is technically umame. And I don’t believe 'savory’ includes spicy…” She lost herself in thought briefly, trying to recall such information but being unable to do so. Waving it away with one hand, she shook her head. “No matter, though. I’m sure whatever you cook up will be delicious,” she said, not saying it only to be nice. Their breakfast had been rather tasty and it seemed he was determined to impress: any sort of meal was tasty when someone intended to wow someone else with it.
Her musings were cut short with his cheesy, but nonetheless amusing, complement. Claire couldn’t recall the last time 'sweet’ had been used to describe her, and though she couldn’t hep but think Mohinder was wrong, it was nice to hear regardless. There was a faint pinkness to her cheeks as she smiled back. “I don’t know about my own sweetness,” she replied, “but I’m a decent baker. Perhaps I could teach you a bit about that as well? You’d be surprised how similar it is to chemistry.” She’d be lying if she said she’d had years of practice, having grown up with servants, but one of the first things she’d learned to make was sugar cookies to satiate her brother’s sweet tooth. That skill might yet again come in handy…
Thanking the waitress for the bottle–glad she didn’t need to end up buying it after all–and the free food, they finished eating in a happy, companionable sort of daze, full of more laughs as they polished off the remnants of the first bottle. Claire made sure to drink most of it: she was used to it, and Mohinder had to drive, after all. She didn’t think she wanted to share him, even with a cabby, at this point.
“We should take this other bottle back,” she said, “so we can actually get back…” She scooted out of the booth and stood, following Mohinder back to his car. The ride, much like the last bit of dinner, was an enjoyable haze she didn’t want to end. Then again, it really didn’t have to; Claire had almost forgotten there would be no need to ask to come up to his place, as her things were already there. Somewhere in the back of her head, a little voice whispered a warning…there was potential to mess things all to hell, be careful…but it was lost in Mohinder’s laugh, his gorgeous smile. Not to mention a healthy dose of sake.
They tripped up the stairs, attempting to be quiet, but their “whispers” and stifled giggles were probably louder than any normal conversation. Finally, gaining entry to the living room, Claire kicked off her shoes and flopped down on the couch unceremoniously, letting out a long breath. “Have I mentioned I love your apartment?” she asked, eyes focusing on Mohinder’s face again. True, her own place was bigger and more expensively furnished but his…it felt like a home. She envied that.