Fun with Domino and Jewels (For CyanDimitrik)

Trish chuckled as she said, "Yes, well, it's a term me and my mates often use to describe certain people. And I know that you are definitely a special one." She would take a glance at Drake's muscles and can definitely see his point. "I do say that as long as you can keep a body such as yours, at least it must be useful, especially for fighting."

With the sound of sizzling and chopping in the kitchen, Trish would then say, "And if I may ask, what sort of specials do they usually serve here?"

"Useful. Exactly the way I want it," Drake jokes. Her compliments certainly didn't fly under the radar. He's all smiles. Smiles and reflecting on how very unexpected this day's been. "You and your mates," he repeats. "That accent's adorable. Did I ever mention I kind'a have a weakness for accents?"

At the mention of the specials, he glances in the direction of the kitchen. "Usually some kind of stir-fry. Noodles'n veggies. Nothing scary that I've seen yet, and nothing that's killed me."

The eyes return to the blonde in front of him. "What about you? Any modeling?"

Trish would raise an eyebrow when Drake mentions that he has a weakness for accents. She said, "Oh, is that so? How does my accent sound to you? Some say too formal, others too pompous."

At the mention of stir-fry, it brought a smile to the British girl's face. "Ahh, yes, asian stir-fry. A classic for me. I'm interested to try any soup or noodle dish if that's the case."

And then there's a topic she hardly associates herself with: modeling. "Well, I have been asked if I can be a model in some circles, all which I declined. I felt I had much more pressing matters other than showing yourself in front of cameras just so that someone can touch up your pictures to try and make you look better. No offense."

"Too formal? Pompous? No way. It sounds... clean. Smooth." Drake purses his lips in thought, squinting at the girl across from him. "I don't know. It fits you, though. And I like listening to it. It was just harder to pick out when I was looking at you like.. well.. an opponent." He grins wryly. "Guess I was too focused on fighting you."

That grin vanishes immediately. "H-hey, they don't touch up the photos!" Beat. "Would they? I mean.. what would they touch up..?"

Trish would smile back as Drake thought that her accent sounded clean and smooth. When he mentioned that he liked listening to it, she would giggle and say, "Thanks much. I heard other guys say that about my accent. I find those compliments a little annoying, but you're okay."

Then Drake looked offended when Trish told him about others touching models' photos. Upon question on what they would specifically touch up, it took her a few seconds before answering, "Well, they can fix up acne, moles, and marks, but they could also ruin natural beauty. I have a friend who's also a model. She told me she felt ugly because photographers often touch up her "unlikeable features". In other words, her natural beauty has been changed into something that she isn't."

Drake lets out a soft laugh followed by a sigh. "Well, I'm glad I qualify as 'okay', then!" He clears his throat and leans forward, propping his elbow to the tabletop, his hand to his chin. "Do you think they touch up my pictures?" He quirks an eyebrow at her, as if challenging her - or warning her to tread carefully.

However, Trish looked as if she wouldn't budge from Drake's warning look as she said, "I didn't that all photographers are like that and I don't think I can find a reason why they would want to change your looks."

She would take another sip of tea as she added, "I just feel that photographers should respect a model's natural beauty no matter the appearance. You know what I mean?" From the sounds in the kitchen, it sounds like the specials are almost ready.

Despite her defiance, she seemed to say the right thing. She's rewarded with a perky smile. "Sweet-talker," Drake muses at her. "Now, as for the... flawed beauty thing, I kind'a agree. Flaws make people... people, y'know?" His head tilts slightly to the side. "Even if your goal's to try and sell something, the person wearing the thing still needs to seem like a person. Makes it... relatable."

He glances again towards the kitchen as he spots movement. Indeed, the dishes come out and are laid down. They're not pretty. It's the Asian equivalent of home cooking, and while there's definite attention to detail, it's a far cry from fine dining. Still, it smells great, consists of steamed, chopped vegetables and lo mein.

Trish would listen to Drake's view based on her what her thoughts were on appearances and she gave a small smile. "I'm glad you and I are on the same page here." A few seconds later, the sound of the kitchen doors swung open as the waiter er comes in with two specials of the day.

As the two plates were placed before them, Trish would thank the waiter before turning to look at her dish. It was simply lowmein with steamed vegetables. It's not really fine dining to be sure, but the aroma gave her the guess that it's good. She would take a fork and dip into her noodles to spin slowly. She picked it up and put the noodles and carrot in her mouth.

After a few chews and swallowing, Trish would pause and say, "Woah...now THAT is good!"

"Imagine that," Drake jokes. He reaches a foot under the table to gently nudge his toe against her ankle.

The food is set down, and Drake immediately gets to it. Indeed, they brought out forks. Because these two are clearly not Asian, and this diner apparently has to deal with a lot of foreigners, they decided it'd just be easier to deliver more Western eating utensils. He similarly swirls the tongs around in the noodles, but his eyes quickly shift back to Trish.

"So, what's the plan? Shooting for a title? Cuz that might mean we'll be tangling in the ring a few more times still," he muses. "If this keeps up, you might get too attached to me. Make beatin' up on me harder."