>Must be about time for dinner. I hear we're having chicken fricassée. It's going
>to be tough going back to RAF "cuisine" after a month of Scarlet Devil
>home cooking.
>

Between the food and her injury hobbling her, some of Lena's colleagues might wonder how she put on some extra weight over a 2 day pass.

>I probably don't want to think too hard about where the milk comes from.
>

Literally magic. If not its source, definitely its continued potability.

>"Won't people think that's kind of weird?"
>"Probably. So? What do you care what other people think?"
>Flandre laughed. "You sound like Sis."
>

It seems like both Scarlets are still taking on board the fact that G has just as much age as them so he's just not going to respond to things the way they expect even unusual mortals to.

Meanwhile the sequence this comes from was a bit of a ride, from horsie to the kissing game, Flandre is clearly still prone to somewhat random whimsy, even if she has a goal in mind.

>"It was a memorable evening all around," Gryphon agreed.
>

G may not be a god, but he might qualify as the patron saint of understatement.

>"Be right there!" Meiling replied. Then, looking down at Flandre's face, she
>said, "Sorry I don't have better advice for you, Flan-Flan. I'm not real good
>at that kind of thing either." She shrugged. "All I can do is be myself. It's >worked out OK so far."
>

Meiling shouldn't be quite so self-deprecating. She got right to the core item of proof Flandre likely needed, that Remilia is many things, but possessed of an amazing poker face is not one of them. That might not help Flandre actually make full sense of the circumstances, but she can at least trust that they exist and work from there.

All of this did lead me to the thought that G has some rather bipolar luck, and hoping for his sake that karma felt it owed him before he got this far since two adorable vampires is one hell of a jackpot to hit.

>"Ah, good, everyone's here," he said, placing the platter in the middle of the
>table. "Tonight, ladies, we will be enjoying one of the great icons of Liberion
>cuisine, the humble yet mighty cheeseburger—so named, of course, because it was
>invented by immigrants from the Karlslandic city of Cheeseburg."
>

And here we have proof in joke form that G is, in fact, a dad.

>"Hey, Meiling—you want to go look around Gallia for a couple weeks?" Flandre
>asked. "You can keep me from accidentally eating villagers or whatever it is
>Sis is afraid I'll do on my own."
>

I am trying to picture how a vampire could accidentally eat someone; the best I can come up with is bumping into them, knocking them down, then tripping and falling on them fangs first. Seems like it'd be part of a vampiric Benny Hill skit.

>"I have an automobile!" Gryphon said cheerfully.
>"No, you have a terrifying tin box on wheels," Remilia corrected him.
>

The Belv is clearly the Rodney Dangerfield of cars.

>"That works for me," said Gryphon. "I hope you don't mind if I invite my
>wingmates."
>

So how long until the 501st catches on to deeper shenanigans with G, given that he was somehow able to meet, woo, and now set a wedding date with Remilia all while seemingly only popping out once a full moon from their perspective?

>"Yay! A date!" cried Flandre, leaving her seat to hop into her sister's lap and
>hug her. Then, turning to Sakuya, she said, "We have to start planning my
>clothes! I need something nice and martial if I'm going to be
>sergeant-at-arms."
>Lena laughed. "I don't think I've ever seen a wedding that 'ad a
>sergeant-at-arms before."
>

A quick Googling turns up nothing, so if that has ever actually occurred it may not have been widely publicized. Though in the context of greater UF it might have, since plenty of militaristic cultures exist.

>"Like I said, I'm up for it," Meiling said agreeably. "Been a while since I had
>a good walkabout."
>

Meiling, the Australian Dragon.

>"Fortunately, that's why m'lady's mother invented concentrated preserves."
>"Heh! Vampire trail rations," Gryphon remarked.
>

I'm beginning to wonder if there's anything in terms of practical utility Remilia the Elder didn't think of, and also how vampire society in general and Victor in particular got along without her well enough for her to be born in the first place.

>Flandre shrugged. "It's as good a theory as any." Then, with a dark snicker,
>she said, "You could always drain him yourself and see what happens."
>"That would be impolite," Remilia countered dryly
>

So how much blood is considered polite to take, from a willing source anyway?

>"Resign yourself to your fate, human," said Remilia, grinning down into his face.
>

When in doubt, pile on the theatrical bluster, because why mess with what works?

>"I didn't even know that was possible," Flandre observed wryly to Wolfgang.
>

It probably came as a surprise to all, since that sort of thing is customarily done after the game reaches its conclusion. It's a testament to the healing abilities involved that no one woke the next night with a stiff neck or other out of sorts body part, but that might just be me projecting my own advancing decrepitude a bit (I truly hate the fact that aging can lead to somehow sleeping incorrectly, I've been doing that literally since before I was born, how the hell did I manage to do it wrong?)

>In the bottom of the lowermost drawer of her dresser, under the spare bloomers
>and socks, she uncovered a small box, about the same size as the pack of spell
>cards she'd already tossed into the suitcase with her clothes and toiletries.
>It was a well-made little thing, all its corners meticulously dovetailed, with
>brass protectors on the corners, a cunning little bronze latch, and an
>intricately carved sigil on the top: something like the spade suit from a deck
>of playing cards, but stylized almost to the point of unrecognizability.
>

Seen enough fanart to guess what that might be. Someone in a later episode is going to have a bad day.

>"What is that?" Lena wondered. "Did you join the Barovian Navy or something?"
>

A Ravenloft reference, in vampire fiction!? It's more likely than you think.

>Silvery light gathered, shooting forward from the tips of the Striker's
>winglets to collect ahead of her, and just as she cleared the roofline and was
>almost directly above the group in the front yard, she vanished in a thunderous
>flash, the spots where the Striker's exhausts stacks had been leaving twin
>streaks of fire that hung in the air for a few moments before dissipating.
>

"If my calculations are correct, when this baby hits eighty-eight miles per hour... you're gonna see some serious shit."

	-={(Astynax)}=- "This Space For Rent."