That was the end of it. Titanomachia stood up to leave, and Madeleine immediately started choking. By the time she'd recovered her breath enough to look up, she was alone. 

Yes, alone. For all the people here with her and all the eyes still on her, none of them mattered at all. None of them were Hers. What mattered was the cake still sitting on the table, and the name still ringing in her ears. She reached up and felt the straps on the back of her head still holding her bridle in place. It didn't tug on her any more; the point of wearing it was finished. She fumbled with the buckles, the many locks and various (now inert) servos fighting her one last time before the harness finally pulled loose enough for her to tug the straps up and over the back of her head. She winces when the bit dug into the bottom of her jaw.

She stroked the long and now slightly wet bar of metal with trembling fingers. Every part of her was shaking right now, actually. Even her breath felt ragged, like she'd just been in the arena. She watched the empty door in silence, only occasionally turning her head to look at the empty chair instead. Finally, she shook her head.

"You're wrong about me, Machia. It's hard to see what you see."

Madeleine picked up a napkin and dabbed her face clean. She stood around awkwardly for a moment, still holding her bridle in one hand, neither chasing nor following the only woman who could make her dreams come true. She picked up the fork again and put this single stubborn bite of cake between her lips. 

It was sweet. She had no idea chocolate could [i]be[/i] this sweet. Rich and creamy, yes, but sweet and sweet and sweet again. One of the whipped creams feels almost more like trying to hold a cloud inside her mouth. She could not fathom how skilled a baker would have to be to put that much air in it when there was still this much sugar weighing it down. It was like descending into a cave, and where she had expected the cool and dark she was instead blinded by a wall of pure quartz. 

She set the fork back down on the plate and sat back down in her chair. Alone. She lifts one hand to signal the waitstaff.

"I would... like a box for that, if you do not mind. And it would be nice if I could have a second cup of coffee if I could. Before I leave. Same as the first. You may bill the woman who just left. I am, after all, her property..."