all that jazz
theme 10: a night out
"D'ya know what I really hate?"
"… what?" Rude's fairly certain that he'd heard this conversation before. If it's not Reno, it's him. If it's not him, it's—
"Reputation."
… what?
"Because we're Turks, does that actually mean that we have to pay more for our food? Does our ordered pizza and ice cream have to cost extra than the average customer?" Directing her anger at the overhearing waiter, Elena glared across the room, melting the ice cream with her ire.
"Elena. Careful. Direct your Evil Eye with diligence." Rude advised, slurping a milkshake.
"Right."
The ice cream stopped melting; and the waiter started.
"What did I miss?" Reno asked, sliding back into his seat.
"Elena using her Turk prowess. If she keeps at it, we might actually get our meal for free." Rude informed his red-haired cohort, munching on garlic bread; placidly watching the verbal spar between Elena and the waiter. Perhaps, Rude mused, she might actually get a date out of the whole ordeal. But he wouldn't want that to happen.
Rude didn't notice Reno stealing a slice of cheesy pizza.
"Awesome."
… and there was a sickening crack!
"So." Reno cheerfully asked. "Where are we going next week?"