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A woman offering to cook for him was not something that Dorian was used to. He liked it. Cooking had not been in his last girlfriend’s wheelhouse, though Dorian always praised Paris’ efforts and never once complained when his kitchen was left destroyed or the food was burnt. Before that there was a long stretch of no one, and prior to that his girlfriends had all been relatively short-lived and too young and immature to understand the value of a good home cooked meal. Dorian enjoyed the idea of Immy cooking something delicious for him, but more so he was excited for the possibility of another date. “That would be nice.” Things were going well, thus far, and it bode well that she was thinking ahead already. Dorian himself didn’t like looking too far into the future, having had such horrendous luck in life that planning for anything beyond a few weeks seemed practically pointless (with the exception of already having Ariel’s Hogwarts experience mapped out right down to her time as Head Girl and straight O’s across all her lessons). He would be amiss if he wasn't completely on board with a second and possibly third date with the lovely woman across from him.

He had been to Eguisheim once while hunting down a Dark Witch, alongside Agent Moody, but hadn’t mentioned as much to his date. Eguisheim was a lovely little village and Dorian didn’t want her view of the place to be tainted by the knowledge that a murderous witch had taken up residence there some years back. It was perfectly safe otherwise, and Immy spoke of the village with such admiration, there was no reason to dampen the memories with ugliness. He posed thoughtful questions and listened with delight as she explained, sometimes deciding that neither of them knew and he made a mental note to look up the information the next time he was at a library so that they could continue their conversation because he was rather enjoying it.

She complimented the food though Dorian could hardly take credit for it. “I have always been something of a food lover,” he explained, setting his chopsticks on the edge of his plate and lifting his glass to clear his mouth before speaking further. “Though, I must admit, I am more accustomed to dining at home than going out. I cannot take credit for knowing about this place, one of my work colleagues turned me on to this place originally. She eats Chinese like it’s going out of fashion.” Although Dorcas’ food habits were not limited to Chinese take-away exclusively, she did seem to have an inordinate amount of take away boxes in the department refrigerator as if she sustained purely on leftover chow mein.

Talking with Immy was easy. They had chatted on several occasions and got on well, so it seemed simple enough to fall into conversation with her now, though Dorian had to admit that he was not well versed in modern dating practices so his choice of topics might have fallen short of date-like without his knowing. The last date he had gone on was with his then-girlfriend Paris, and she had been dead now for two years. It had been pointed out even then that his approach to wooing a woman might have been a little outdated and certainly advancements had been made in the last couple of years that Dorian had been willfully ignorant to. Had he mucked up his first proper date with Imelda already he would never have known. “A time or two, yes. For work mostly.” Nearly all of his travels were for work, but he had, on occasion, taken an extra day to see the sights. He had walked the Great Wall and partook in a moment of silence in a Buddhist temple in Zhengzhou. He regaled Immy with a more sanitized version of the time he had chased a Dark Wizard to Guilin on a river cruise boat, describing in passionate detail the lovely surroundings he had found himself in despite the tediousness of the task at hand, pausing when the waiter came around to take their order. Perhaps this was boring. He’d been talking far too much and had not reciprocated the question back to her yet. He was being a blathering idiot and was happy for the excuse of a warm dumpling popped into his mouth to politely shut the hell up. He swallowed and cleared his mouth with a sip of tea. “I don’t suppose travelling for work truly counts as travelling. Not in the sense most people expect. I am sure you’ve had more leisurely opportunities abroad.” He knew she visited family in Spain, gathering that information early in their friendship, but between England and Spain at least there were a few touristy locations she might have ventured, if not further.

They didn’t stay but a moment inside her flat, not that Dorian was expecting her to entertain them in her home on their first real date, but he noted that she was cautious in closing the door behind him for the short duration of time it took her to fetch and don her cloak. He did the same out of habitual over caution and he supposed, given their country’s current state of affairs, she had a similar reason for her actions. For a moment he felt guilty that he was taking time formerly spent working to solve cases and bring a small sense of order to the chaos that was the wizarding world, and instead he was selfishly indulging himself in pleasant company with potential for…more. The sight of Immy turning as she flung her cloak around her shoulders, long legs exposed and dark hair cascading down her back, distracted Dorian from his moment of doubt and he smiled. “No hiking. Not in those shoes, at least. You look gorgeous, by the way,” he remarked earnestly as they stepped out of her apartment and she shut the door behind them. He hesitated a moment until he heard the locks click into place. “I like your…” he gestured to her broach as they stepped out into the fresh winter air. He couldn’t think of the word. He found he couldn’t think of a great deal of things when he spoke to Immy, and rarely before had he found himself tongue-tied.

They passed by the snowman Dorian had constructed on the pavement and he led Immy down the street toward Whimsic Alley in search of the best Chinese food this side of the Black Sea. He managed small talk on the way, mostly talking about Ariel and their most recent trips to the library – a safe topic given the couple’s previous meeting arrangements. When they arrived at Shangri-La, Dorian held the door for Immy and followed her inside, away from the cold. He’d made a reservation but they still had to wait a few minutes as the staff bused the table and brought fresh utensils. “If you can’t make it to China for supper, this is the next best place to go,” he said with a slight smile as he held her chair for her.

Right place at the right time, what a bunch of dragon dung. Dorian opened his mouth to reply, though admittedly more tactfully than how he might have imagined, when Alastor interjected. The taller man attempted to guide Dorian away from Dorcas as he spoke about finding the right lead for the case, but Dorian stood his ground, his eyes evaluating Dorcas as his jaw clenched. He didn’t want to believe that there might be something more nefarious than a Death Eater attack at play here. “What were you doing Owl Creek?” he questioned. Judging by her attire, she wasn’t out for a stroll in the middle of such a cold winter’s night. She would have frozen to death, unless she’d been planning to roam around a burning building for warmth.

He was a little early, having left the Meadowes' quicker than originally planned thanks to a little push from an overly presumptuous Dorcas. Dorian took his time as he strolled leisurely up the street toward Immy's flat. She lived in a muggle-occupied area but it was walking distance to Whimsic Alley and Dorian thought it might be nice for them to walk to the restaurant since it wasn't really snowing very much. There had been a small dusting of snow earlier in the day, covering the pavement and little grassy bits dotted here and there with a white powder that was almost magical in its own right. Dorian checked his watch. He was still a few minutes early but only a few - he debated whether to knock on her door now or wait. So long as he wasn't late, he didn't see much harm in arriving only a couple of minutes before their agreed upon time. Unless she was the sort that ran late and was still dressing. Perhaps he would wait just a few more minutes outside of the apartment building before heading inside and finding her flat.

The street had a calm silence to it, or as quiet as one could expect even on the outskirts of London. Dorian paced slowly in front of the apartment building, smiling at a woman and her son who had come out of the apartment. They were bundled up tight, and the mum seemed eager to get out of the chilly weather as she walked hurriedly, but the boy dawdled, kicking at the snow. "But we need a snowman!" the boy whined after his mum had called him by his full name and insisted he hurry alongside her. Dorian checked his watch; just a little bit longer. The family out of sight, Dorian looked around to make sure he was alone before discretely drawing his wand and giving it a teensy flourish. A wind picked up and seemed to blow the snow into three stacked balls. Dorian stuffed his wand back in his pocket, bent to the ground and managed to scrounge up a few rocks and sticks from around the little tree nearby to complete the look. He checked his watch again, smiled, then turned and headed into the apartment building.

He felt a small flurry of excitement as he knocked on the door, and waited patiently, hoping she wasn't the sort to be running late on the first date.