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[color=skyblue]Location[/color]: Château de La Lune: Dining Room
[color=skyblue]Skills[/color]: N/A
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As the cheese platters were cleared to make room for dessert, Tony was curious what the chef had prepared to finish what had been an excellent dinner. When he saw that it would be tiramisu, he became… apprehensive. It wasn’t that he thought it would be [i]terrible[/i] - the chef (Gordon, was it?) had already proven himself to be very talented. But… this was an [i]Italian[/i] dish. Over the years, Tony has eaten at many of the greatest Italian restaurants in New York City, Miami, and elsewhere across the globe. He’s had countless amazing variations of tiramisu. Hell, some of them have cost more than many people might pay for an entire dinner. So his expectations were very high, and would a Frenchman really be up to the task?

Hesitantly, he took a bite. Then, smiling, he quickly had a second. No, this wasn’t the [i]best[/i] he’s had, but by God was it close. [color=skyblue][i]Better than I would’ve expected from a Frenchman,[/i][/color] he thought. He was so distracted by these thoughts about the tiramisu that at first, he didn’t realize that someone was talking to him.

Looking up, he realized it was the woman he’d previously noticed interrogating half the table. Apparently, she’d decided it was his turn.

Tony didn’t trust her.

Something about the way she was interrogating everyone like this dinner was a murder mystery just didn’t add up. He hadn’t [i]thought[/i] that any nominees could be involved in his blackmail, but was that [i]really[/i] true? Certainly no nominee could be the one to place the envelope on his desk, but was it impossible that none of them were in on it? [color=skyblue][i]No… it’s not,[/i][/color] he decided.

So, carefully keeping his expression as normal as he could, he faced her question. What did he think? Well, frankly this dinner had been the most awkward event he’d been to since… [i]that[/i] night. But even if he trusted her, courtesy would forbid him from saying that - and he [i]didn’t[/i] trust her. So instead, he politely commented on how good the food was then turned the question back on her. But if he expected to read anything from her reply, he was left disappointed. As a surgeon he understood the human body better than most, but in Millicent he saw nothing that might give her thoughts or feelings away. Maybe, just maybe, he noticed the slightest narrowing of her eyes, but even of that he couldn’t be sure. At this point, there were two things Tony was sure of. One: she was [i]very[/i] good at this. Two: if he couldn’t be even better, he might be fucked. Even if she [i]didn’t[/i] already know them, Tony felt like she could eventually figure out his deepest, darkest secrets if she wanted to… and that wasn’t acceptable.

With this in mind, he thought carefully about his answer to her follow-up question before responding. Deciding that the best lies always had an element of truth to them, he gave an answer that [i]technically[/i] was a truthful reflection of his thoughts, without actually saying anything meaningful. Or at least, so he hoped. In truth, he was starting to think there was nothing he wanted more than to forget this trip ever happened. But until it was over, that was a luxury he could not afford. Until then, Tony decided he would need to watch Millicent closely. It couldn’t be a coincidence that someone that seemed remarkably talented at reading people could be in the same group of nominees as him.

Looking at his glass of wine, the logical part of his mind screamed that he should probably stop drinking. A glass of scotch before dinner, several glasses of wine - four? - during dinner, and the expectation of more drinks later in the night… this seemed like a very dangerous place to risk getting drunk. And yet…

[color=skyblue][i]Fuck it. I didn’t sign up for this shit,[/i][/color] Tony thought.

And so he drank.