When they return to the table, dessert has been served. 

It is probably a cake. There are cakes which are sculptures, and it would be weird to serve a completely inedible sculpture as dessert. 

But what it looks like is Marlo's old church from where he grew up, and outside it stand what is recognizably Alexander, in a purple sweater falling off his shoulders, and some of Marlo's friends from the army. 

If he glances at Chris's cake, it's a castle, and outside it are a woman in a stereotypical French maid's outfit, a woman in blue jeans and a T-shirt, and a man wearing nothing but a leather harness and a jockstrap.

"…it's gorgeous," he says, very soft. (Oh God, there are so many people he misses so dearly.) 

He glances at Chris's cake and then glances away, looks back at the miniature faces of friends he can no longer speak to. 

"I don't really want to eat it."

"Neither do I. 

Who are the people outside yours?" 

He taps the man in a leather harness and jockstrap. "My brother, Ron." The woman in a French maid's outfit. "My best friend, Rachel." The woman in blue jeans and a T-shirt. "Robin." He pauses. "She was the love of my life."

"What was she like?" 

"Robin was flawless. She had the most thirst for service of anyone I have ever trained. I only trained her for two weeks and I could sell her, which is just-- impossible, no one is ready for the block without two months in training. But she had good instincts and she always wanted to be perfect." He's smiling, remembering her. "She was an art dealer. We scheduled our vacations for the same time so we could go riding together and talk. I love her."

(Right. Slave. Traumatized.) 

"She sounds lovely." Chris's smile is lovely. 

"Who are yours?"

"This one is Alexander," and he taps each of the men in uniform in turn when he says "and this is Sam, and Carlos, and Lucas, friends from the army." 

"If that's an accurate depiction, Alexander has good taste in sweaters."

"I don't recall him ever wearing this in particular, but he was significantly smaller than I was and borrowed my jackets a lot." 

"Would you like me to cut you a slice of the cake?"

"Yes, please." 

He does. 

"I assume your cake is your church from home? Mine is Kaleigh Castle, where I learned such useful skills as how best to cut oddly shaped cakes."

"It is, yes. Yours is beautiful." 

"It's more beautiful in person. I wish I had gotten to stay there longer."

Chris cut Marlo a piece with minimal fondant, but even so this cake is clearly sacrificing taste in favor of resemblance to a church. 

It's still fine. He's enjoyed worse. "I'm sure," he says. (He catches himself almost-saying "maybe you could go back some time.") 

Chris has, much to his relief, found a conversation topic. 

He tells Marlo some of his best PG-rated Kaleigh stories. The Time Chris Was Sent To Find A Snipe. The Time Everyone Had The Flu And Chris Had To Wait Tables For A Duke Despite Never Having Waited A Table Before. The Time Chris Taught Himself To Ride Horses Even Though He Had Been Expressly Forbidden To Enter The Stables. He carefully avoids any mention of sex, physical punishment, or what he was at Kaleigh to be trained as. 

He avoids the kinds of army stories that tend to get horrified looks from civilians but is happy to share the time he was sent to find a snipe! 

Snipe hunts! A cherished tradition in many hierarchal organizations!

When they've finished their dessert, the waitress says, "Our last activity is the Fuzzy Handcuff Game!"

"...do we want to stay for this," because Marlo definitely doesn't. 

"No. We'll be going. Thank you."