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“This place again?” Dakota looked at the small restaurant.
“What’s wrong with it?” Cavendish pushed the door open.
“There’s nothing wrong with it. This is just the fourth time you picked it this week. I didn’t think you liked this place.” They stepped in and were directed to a booth.
“I can like Italian-Chinese fusion cuisine. Is that really so hard to believe?”
“Yeah, kind of.” Dakota started munching on the free bread-sticks. “I mean, all you have here is the tuna sandwich, and I’m not even sure why that’s on the menu.”
“It’s a good sandwich.”
“It doesn’t matter if it’s a good sandwich it’s neither Italian nor Chinese. It just doesn’t fit the ambiance of this place, you know?”
“Would you just-” Cavendish froze, and then his tone changed. “It is of the utmost urgency. The very fate of the galaxy could well hang in the balance.”
Dakota paused mid-bite. “What are you talking about? And why are you saying it so loud?”
“The details are far too sensitive. We can’t risk starting a panic.”
“Maybe you’ve been around too much alien trash. There was that glowy stuff from the road, remember that?”
Cavendish gave Dakota a very irritated look and was about to continue speaking when the waitress approach.
“Hello again!” She smiled warmly as she pulled out her pad. “It’s always nice to see the new regulars. I’ll be your server today. What can I getcha?”
Cavendish broke off eye contact and started picking at his napkin. Dakota gave him an odd look before beginning to speak.
“Well, the wonton ravioli sounds good… and can I get a coke to go with that?”
“Not a problem.” She turned to Cavendish. “And you sir?”
“Oh! Yes of course, I would like-” Something slipped out of his hand and he reached down to pick it up. “Well, I suppose… the uh…”
“You want the tuna again?” Dakota asked helpfully.
“Yes, I would like that.”
The waitress watched patiently. “And would you like the green tea with that?”
Cavendish blinked in surprise. “That, yes I would. How did you-?”
“It’s what you ordered the last three times you came here.” She paused. “Not that I’ve been keeping track, I just have a sharp memory when it comes this sort of thing. Very handy in this line of work. I’ll have that out” She scribbled it down in her notepad and started walking away. Then she paused. “I am so sorry, sir. Was that the wonton-”
“Yeah, the wonton ravioli.”
“-and a coke. Got it. Thank you.”
She walked away. Dakota watched her as she snuck a glance directly back at Cavendish. He turned to his disgruntled partner.
“Ah, I see what’s going on here.” He smiled.
“Don’t you-” Cavendish straightened up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Dakota shook his head. “This isn’t about the tuna or the ambiance. You’re coming here because of that waitress, Maris. I think that’s her name. Yeah, Maris.”
“That’s preposterous. Why on earth would I go out of my way to see her?” Cavendish straightened his coat, obviously summoning all possible dignity.
“All that weird fate of the galaxy stuff, that was all to impress her wasn’t it?” Dakota shook his head. “You like her.”
“No! Certainly not in the way you’re implying. She has excellent customer service skills, but that’s all I know about her. I haven’t had any reason to pay her extra attention.”
“Really?” Dakota picked up another bread-stick. “You haven’t noticed her pretty green eyes?”
“They’re brown.” Cavendish winced. “Which… proves nothing. An agent of any kind must be alert to the smallest detail.”
Dakota scoffed. “Okay, Mr. Observant. You tell me. How many people are in this room right now?”
Cavendish fussed around. “That’s completely diff-”
“Here we are!” Maris popped in, carrying the drinks. “One tea, and one coke. I’ll have your food out in another couple minutes.”
As she walked away, Cavendish shook his head and lost his deer in the headlights look. “What were we talking about?”
“Just be careful, okay? Inter-temporal relationships can get tricky. She could be your great great grandma or something.”
“She isn’t.” Cavendish said quickly.
“You checked.” Dakota’s grin grew smugger. “You like her.”
Cavendish huffed again. “I just happen to have an interest in studying my ancestry. It’s a hobby.”
“Sure it is.” Dakota’s grin didn’t slip. “Aaand you like her.”
“No! I do not!” Cavendish shot up. The other patrons stared for a moment, and he slunk back into his seat. “The last thing I have time for right now is a… a… schoolyard crush.”
“Who said anything about the schoolyard? Ask her out like an adult.” Dakota said as he crunched on his fifth or sixth bread-stick, who was keeping track.
“Oh, as if that wouldn’t be entirely inappropriate.” Cavendish sulked.
“Afraid she’ll say no?”
“No, that’s not the-”
“Don’t worry, she’s definitely into you. She’s been- hey, she’s looking at you right now.”
“She is?!” Cavendish stiffened.
Dakota waved. “Yeah, and she’s coming over. You think she heard us just now?”
The idea seemed to temporarily deactivated Cavendish’s brain. After a few seconds of inactivity, he jumped up, looked around, and ducked under the table.
“Okay, now everyone’s looking at you.”
Maris approached the table. “Is everything going alright?” She leaned to peer over the edge of the table.
“Yeah, everything’s great.” Dakota leaned over. “Cavendish just-”
“I dropped a pen!”
“I guess he dropped a pen.”
Maris seemed puzzled, then shrugged. “Well, good luck. Finding the pen?” She shook her head. “That makes sense. We almost have your food ready. In the meantime do either of you need any refills?”
“Can we get some more bread-sticks?” Dakota asked.
Maris nodded, took another look at the place where Cavendish wasn’t sitting, and turned to walk away.
Then an idea popped into Dakota’s head. “Hey, one last thing.”
“Yes?”
“We really haven’t had time to get to know the neighborhood. What’s there to do around here?”
Maris laughed. “What isn’t there to do? Never a dull moment in Danville.” She glanced at a small flier in the window. “Although…” She walked over and took it down. “There is a small local craft fair coming up in a couple days. Free admission. It’s more of a get together.” She handed it to Dakota. “I kind of am the organizer. You two should come. If you’d like. It’ll be a thrill.” She snorted another laugh. “No, no. It’s not that exciting. It’s… mainly macrame.”
“Hey!” Dakota looked at the flier. “Little owls. Oh we definitely need to go.” He cheerfully ignored Cavendish’s firm tugs on his tracksuit leg.
“Really? That would be great!” Maris’s smile warmed. She glanced over to Cavendish, still hidden under the tablecloth. “Well, your food should be ready, I’ll just grab it for you.”
She walked off.
Cavendish slowly climbed out from under the table. “Just so we’re clear, I did drop a pen.”
“Yeah, yeah, look at this!” Dakota held up the flier. “Look at these little owls. We need to get some of these.”
“What exactly where you thinking?” Cavendish grabbed the flier. “Telling her we’re going to her craft fair. That would be a complete disaster.”
“Oh come on, it’ll be fine. It’s probably just a bunch of sweet old ladies. And if you like Maris, and you know, you do, you’ll have an actual chance to talk to her. And even if you don’t… little owls!” He pointed to the flier again. “Believe me, she wants to see you there.”
Cavendish looked like he was about to argue, then lifted the flier. “Do you really think so?”
“She wouldn’t have invited you if she didn’t.”
Before Cavendish could reply, Maris walked back and placed the food down. For the first time, he managed to make eye contact. As she left, he swallowed.
“I… suppose that exploring more of this time’s culture couldn’t hurt.”
“Course it couldn’t.” Dakota took a sip of the ravioli. “Ugh, except this part. There was no reason to do this to wontons.”
Cavendish groaned. “And I for one, am through with tuna fish.”
Dakota looked down at his dish. “Wanna trade?”
“Absolutely not. If you do not want to eat it, I certainly won’t be able to.”
“It’s not that bad, it’s just an acquired taste.”
“Then acquire a taste for it. You’re not getting my sandwich.”
“Fine, but next time I’m picking the restaurant.” Dakota watched as Cavendish started stubbornly tucking into his sandwich. And then, he looked at the flier again.
Dakota picked up one of the fresh bread-sticks and patted himself on the back.