This would hopefully go over smoothly. Gabriel rushed into the restaurant, mumbling to the concierge about the reservation, and was quickly unraveling his scarf from around his neck as he followed the waiter to the table in which the young woman sat. Franziska, he believed it was. Ah, yes, she was most definitely the one with the enormous scowl on her face.
He'd gone through this before, quite often in fact as his mother was quite popular in their social circle. He'd been set up on many dates with many lovely young ladies (and many not so lovely), and Gabriel knew the routine by now of how to get out of any who were actually willing to go through with some sort of arrangement.
"I'm terribly sorry, Miss. Dolohov," he said, slightly out of breath. He smiled and stood by the table with his scarf and jacket in hand, "I was out of the country, you see, and our portkey left a little later than was scheduled."
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