"It was perfect," Emmaline told him with a wicked grin. Reasoning that such a grin would not have been found on a real justicar, she smoothed her face.

"Don't you worry, right at this moment the Dean has flunkies who are learning about a justicar having a conversation with someone who maybe, possibly looked like an guild apprentice," she assured him confidently. Even if the Dean himself hadn't given the order, some officious underling, eager to curry favor, would have taken the initiative. Of course they wouldn't be able to identify Neil by sight, which was perfect, speculation would fuel the rumor she was trying to create. Emmaline was very pleased with herself, and very pleased with the effect her outfit was having on Neil. It had cost her three gold Imperials afterall, she might as well get some fun out of it.

"As for a second date, I have just the place..."

Conyer's was an upscale reasturant in the Brettonian fashion, rather than inn that served food as was more typical of Imperial eating establishments. It was more expensive than a chophouse, but not so much that it had to cater to the upper crust of the nobility and the merchant class. It was the kind of place a moderately successful guild member or a modest merchant might bring their wife for dinner. The perfect place to spread more rumors of a justicar meeting with a guild apprentice.  The reasturant itself was a two story affair with the traditional stone ground floor. At some point in the past a fire had ravaged the building. Rather than rebuild it completely, an expensive undertaking in Nuln, the reasturanter had purchased it and rebuilt the foot print mostly in decking, with a single smaller structure around the stair case. The resulting space was a kind of open air dining platform that gave the diners a chance to view the city and the river. Had the view been better it would have been a hotspot, but it was pleasant enough. In bad weather canvas awnings could be rigged to keep the diners dry. 

Given that Blackpowder week was still in full swing, the place was crowded, though not so packed that Emmaline had trouble convincing a waiter to find them a table. The kitchen served roast chicken and a potato and leek soup that was very pleasant, as well as fresh brown bread with crocks of local butter. There was ale and wine also, though several tables were drinking Brettonian Brandy.

"I'm afraid we don't have any vodka madame," a waiter told Emmaline when she asked. She shot Neil a wicked look when the fellow turned to look towards a particularly loud blast off in the distance.

"Wine for me then, something red," Emmaline told him. Truthfully she would have preferred ale, but this was a business dinner as well as a social one, and it paid to keep up appearances.