Twenty minutes later they ended up in a small, family-owned restraint called "The Dropper". It was one of Olimar's favorites. He hadn't been there in forever; his wife had always insisted on home-cooked meals during his visits. But he used to go there every day during his lunch break, so he knew most of the people that worked there. When they took their seats, a woman came up and greeted them. She had been recently hired, as far as Olimar knew. She took one good look at Falcon, screamed, and ran into the kitchen. Olimar couldn't help it. He laughed. Falcon sat there with the most insulted look on his face. Several people from surrounding tables stared at him, but he paid them not mind.
"Sure, I'm tall, but I'm not ithat/i ugly, am I?"
This made Olimar laugh harder.
"What's going on in here?" someone yelled. It was the manager, Wessen. He was short, even for a Hocotatian, and pudgy, with a big, poofy beard. He looked more like a mad scientist than a cook. He surveyed the room, and when he saw Olimar, who was still laughing, he broke out into a wide grin.
"Oli-man!" he cried.
Olimar stopped laughing and swiveled to face him.
"Wessey!"
The man rushed over and pulled him into a tight hug. Once he set him down, he caught sight of his injuries and laughed heartily.
"Been jumping off of cliffs again, I see."
Olimar rolled his eyes.
"How can you still remember when I broke my leg? I was 15!"
Wessen shrugged.
"What can I say, you still look it!"
Olimar laughed.
"And who's your friend here?"
"This is Captain Falcon. We've been on quite a few adventures together."
The man stared up at Falcon and scratched his beard.
"Adventures, eh? So you're the one who did this to him!"
Falcon jumped at the sudden accusation but relaxed when the man laughed again.
"It's about time someone toughened this boy up! Good to meet ya!" They shook hands. Wessen had a surprisingly firm handshake for a creature of his size. He turned back to Olimar and shook his head.
"So the rumors are true, are they? You're a full-blown hero now, aren't ya?"
Olimar shrugged.
"I dunno if I'd say that."
Falcon cut him off.
"Yes, he is. He's a brave hero."
Wessen broke out into a grin and slapped Olimar on the back.
"Good for you, lad! You're going places, that's great! Now, how can I help you fine gentlemen?"
Olimar chuckled.
"You already know what I want, Wessen."
"I do," he affirmed. He turned to Falcon. "And for you?"
Falcon shrugged.
"Whatever he's having."
"Alright, I'll be right out with your orders, then. Anything to drink?"
"Water's fine," Falcon replied.
Olimar bit his lip.
"I want a beer."
"Beer? Since when did you start drinkin', lad?"
"Since my wife asked for a divorce."
Wessen's eyes widened.
"Oh right, I heard somethin' about that. Sorry lad," he said, patting him on the back. "It's a real shame."
Olimar shrugged.
"Yeah, I know."
With a last sympathetic look, Wessen turned and disappeared into the kitchen.
Falcon frowned at him.
"You okay?"
"I'm fine," Olimar huffed.
They remained silent for a couple minutes.
"So is the water here like normal water? You guys don't breathe oxygen, so there's none in it, right?"
"No, there is. It's oxygen in the lungs that we can't handle. In small amounts, it's ok. Though I'm sure my body has built up a resistance by now, with all the time I've spent on your worlds. I've had a couple leaks in my suit, and as far as I know it hasn't affected me. I still wouldn't risk it, though."
Falcon nodded.
"It would be cool, though. To not be separated by these clunky things," he said, knocking on his glass helmet.
Olimar shrugged.
"I guess. I'd have to do some major experimenting before I'd feel confident enough to take it off," he replied. Something in his eyes told Falcon he'd roused his curious nature. Olimar was very smart, but as of late he hasn't made any interesting discoveries. Falcon chuckled as Olimar settled into his 'think pout'. To anyone else, he looked severely confused, but Falcon knew he had so many ideas in his head. Sometimes while they talked, he'd bounce ideas off of him, because Falcon helped him think. Falcon was a fairly smart man himself.
Finally the waitress arrived with their meal. She blushed and set their plates down, as well as their drinks.
"I'm sorry about earlier, sir," she mumbled, addressing Falcon. "You surprised me, is all. Y'all's meals are on the house."
Falcon smiled a charming smile.
"It's no problem, and thank you."
She smiled back and walked into the kitchen again, tray tucked under her arm.
Falcon picked up a fork.
"I know how you do this, I think," he said. "You pull your arms in, right?"
Olimar nodded.
"Try not to spill your food."
Falcon took his fork and scooped up some food–he never bothered to ask what it was–and popped his arm into his sleeve. The insulation was very thick, so it was hard not to brush his food all over the inside.
"Jeez, how do you do this all the time?"
Olimar shrugged.
"Practice. And don't worry about the air, your suit will close off the sleeve when it senses harmful air conditions."
"Okay."
By then he had just gotten the fork to his mouth. He took a bite, then choked.
Olimar started laughing so hard his stomach hurt.
"I had him put frosha in your food!"
Falcon grimaced, then swallowed.
"What the hell is frosha?"
"It's Wollytoad intestine!"
Falcon glared hard at him.
"Why did you do that?"
"It's for calling me a bad tour guide," he replied smugly, and if it wasn't for the casts he would've crossed his arms.
"Now I'm hungry."
"Well so am I! And I am inot/i eating that."
"Quit your whining. You can eat when we get home."
"You're so mean."
"I know~ Now feed me!"
Falcon sighed, rolling his eyes as he spooned a mouthful of the stuff into Olimar's mouth.
"Mm-mm! It's delicious!"
Falcon huffed and repeated the complicated ritual of eating some himself.
"Wow that is good! I think I'll eat it," he said, pointedly going in for another bite. Olimar's half-starved look didn't deter him, but he didn't eat anymore. As he fed Olimar, other people started to stare. Olimar noticed, and blushed, but Falcon did not.
"People are staring," he mumbled, embarrassed.
Falcon grinned wickedly.
"Don't worry, baby, I'll feed you 'til the day I die," he said loudly.
There were a few awkward coughs, giggles, and a couple "aww"'s.
Olimar glared.
"So that's how it's gonna be, huh? Give me my drink."
Falcon obliged, and Olimar drank the whole thing down in one go.
"Another!" he demanded.
Falcon laughed, beckoning to a nearby waitress.
"Can I get another beer? And keep 'em coming."
She nodded and disappeared into the kitchen. A minute later, she emerged with a tall glass of beer.
"Holler if ya run out," she said, casting a fond glance at Olimar. He grinned stupidly, obviously drunk already. He wasn't very big, so it made sense.