Everyone in town knows not to talk about the game in front of him until after he's gotten the full story from Alexander, but Orrin can always tell if the Titans have won or lost. Not so much by the mood or the tone of their voices, the things people can disguise, but from their orders. Full plates for losses, things to hunch over and consume mostly in silence, and appetizers for victories, smaller plates that can be passed from friend to friend with laughter. Onion rings and fries are beating turkey platters and salads handily, so he's prepared for good news. He whistles as he scrubs down the counters, clears the empty tables, wipes the grease from the salt and pepper shakers.
"Ianthé," he calls up the stairs; the crowd is bigger than the usual Friday-nighters, and two more hands to fetch and carry would make things easier. "Ianthé," he calls again and she appears at the top of the stairs. "Come, sweetheart," he says and she runs down the stairs toward him. With Ianthé keeping an eye on everyone, he's free to do some of the cooking, make things easier for Rhea.
He doesn't realize how late it is until the regulars start leaving in anticipation of closing time. It's not like Alexander not to come home after the game, even if it's only to drop off his stuff before he heads back out. But maybe he got carried away with the excitement of this victory, maybe there were college scouts in the crowd, maybe right now he is saying "yes, sir," to someone who can offer him an education past what his parents have. He has to buy a proper American suit for Alexander's graduation; Rhea keeps reminding him but where is the time for that?
The bell over the door jingles, and he comes out from the kitchen to find two police officers with their hats in their hands.