Charlotte made a couple of ham and cheese sandwiches, her cheeks still flaming as she slapped the bread together, cutting them in half with more force than necessary. What the hell?! Thranduil, an elf and a king, had just been handling her underwear! And he had acted as though it had totally unaffected him. She paused, thinking about it. The type of underwear worn in this world must be such an oddity to someone like Thranduil, and she briefly pondered what they must look like back in Middle Earth. Her mind came up with images of Granny panties, and she shuddered. No wonder he had seemed so perplexed.
She turned around to call Thranduil and let out a gasp, scrambling back like a startled cat. Her back hit the edge of the counter and she clutched at her chest, her frantically beating heart hammering beneath her palm. If the air hadn't left her lungs, she was sure she would have let out a strangled screech to make any battle-worn feline proud. Thranduil was standing mere inches from her, his one brow arched superciliously, though his face betrayed no other emotion - except maybe the flicker of amusement that flashed through his eyes.
"Did I startle you?" he asked in a tone that belied that he knew full well that he had, indeed, done so. Maybe it was what he had been aiming for.
"I need to get you some bells," Charlotte hissed. "It's unnerving how quiet you are."
"And where would the fun be in that if I could not sneak up on you?" he smirked.
Charlotte shook her head and turned to pick up the plates; one sandwich for her and the other three for Thranduil.
"Lunch is ready," she stated, handing Thranduil his plate and making her way to the table. She glanced up and watched as Thranduil lift the top layer of bread, his lip slowly curling back into that of distaste. Obviously sandwiches were not up to par with his high standards.
"Either you intend to starve me or poison me," he murmured, letting the bread limply fall back into place.
"I'm leaning towards poisoning. It's quicker," she retorted before taking a bite of her sandwich.
Thranduil's eyes flickered to her and a smile graced his features, noting that she was still annoyed at him.
"I think you may succeed where others have failed, little one," he stated as he came to sit next to her. "You are by far surpassing my initial assessment of your culinary skills, which is saying a lot."
Charlotte shot him a withering glare, which he pointedly ignored.
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Charlotte carefully placed the empty wine bottles in a bag, noting that there were seven in total. She eyed Thranduil, who was currently throwing his cloak over his shoulders and diligently trying to fasten it.
"You've gone through seven bottles of wine in less than a week," she expressed.
"Yes, and I'm currently working through the eighth bottle," he replied distractedly, still fiddling with the clasp.
