The Good Boy and the little brute found themselves in the middle of another awkward car ride into the city as it took about fifteen minutes to drive from Stourton to the West End of London, the city's entertainment district and a great location to set up a unique restaurant ready to feed tourists and locals alike. Veruca didn't much care for surprises since they put her in a situation where she had no control, something she realized the hard way during the tour of Willy Wonka's chocolate factory. Therefore she did not like the fact that Charlie kept their destination for the evening a secret until he picked her up at her penthouse. Nevertheless, she gave him the opportunity to make the evening a memorable one, and so far he seemed to be doing so with his choice of clothing. Unfortunately, that was a personality choice the brat despised and was willing to ostracize him for until the end of time, but yet she allowed him to take her to this mysterious restaurant that he so wanted to take her to. Nestled in between two other small businesses, the location of El Pescador Tabasqueño was a building with an apartment above where the owners lived while the first floor appeared to be short widthwise while making up for the lack of space by expanding lengthwise towards the back. There was a line of cars parked on the curb, so Charlie had to park two buildings down from the restaurant, the upside of such a line was that it meant people were actually coming to try the different yet delicious meals prepared inside. After parking his car, Charlie got out and rushed over to once again open Veruca's door for her, as she expected him to do. But he could only hope the ambiance of the place would loosen her up and lead to a fruitful discussion about their pasts and perhaps even their future.

"We're here, Veruca," Charlie said as he held the passenger door of his car open so his guest could get out.

As the two former Golden Ticket winners walked side by side towards the front entrance, Charlie had a surprise ability he wanted to demonstrate in front of his guest, so he pleaded with her, "And one more thing, when we go inside, just let me do the talking."

Unsurprisingly, Veruca did not take kindly to being told what, or in this case what not, to do, so, she gave Charlie yet another side sneer and asked rather irritated, "Why?"

"You'll see," Charlie simply and mysteriously responded with a smile on his face before reaching out for the handle of the door to the restaurant.

The first thing the pair saw when they entered the restaurant was the host's desk with the title bearer, a man with black hair and dark brown skin about five and a half feet tall and in his early 20s, the owner's son, Benito, standing behind the desk, who then greeted the two guests through his English learner's accent, "Welcome to El Pescador Tabasqueño, table fo...Oh, Mr. Bucket, a pleasure to see you."

Benito struggled to articulate what he wanted to say due to the presence of such an honored guest, but then managed to scream for his mother in the kitchen in his native tongue to present herself, "¡Amá! ¡Ven aqa!"

(Mom, come here!)

With her son screaming while people tried to eat a few feet away, out came an equally dark-skinned woman in her 50s with graying hair no more than five feet tall and dressed in a traditional white southern Mexican dress and a stained khaki apron from working in the kitchen, Doña Rosita, who without regret screamed back, "¡¿Que quieres, Cabrón?! ¡¿Porque andas gritando?!"

(What do you want, dumbass?! Why are you screaming?!)

Now, all it took was one quick glance at the amazing chocolatier's apprentice to turn Doña Rosita from an angry matriarch to the world's sweetest grandma; she even greeted the heir by calling him one of the nicknames he picked up while in Mexico, the Hispanicized equivalent of Charlie, saying, "Ay, Carlitos, mijito, ven aqa."

(Oh, Carlitos, my boy, come here.)

After greeting the owner with hugs and kisses, Charlie kept his promise to amaze Veruca by responding to the woman in her language, albeit with the accent of a Spaniard rather than one from rural southern Mexico like their host, "Buenas tardes, Doña Rosita. ¿Usted tiene mesa para dos?"

(Good afternoon, Doña Rosita. Do you have a table for two?)

Doña Rosita had a policy in her restaurant, whenever Mr. Charlie Bucket stopped by to eat, it was the entire staff's responsibility to cater to his every whim, and she kept true to that policy, replying, "Para ti, siempre tenemos lugar."

(For you, we always have room.)

"Come, come," Doña Rosita added, unleashing her elementary English skills as she walked towards the restaurant dining area while dragging Charlie by the arm with one hand and signaling Veruca to follow her with the other.

However, when it came to her actual son, Doña Rosita was not afraid to get bossy when they were both at work, barking at him from the corridor leading to the tables, "¡Benito, trae dos cartas, Cabrón!"

(Benito, bring two menus, dumbass!)

As the group of four passed through the hallway and into the dining center where two-thirds of the tables were occupied, Doña Rosita turned around to examine just who exactly Carlitos had taken out on a dinner date and she was not impressed. She clearly spotted how modestly he was dressed while she appeared to be coming right off the catwalk of some fashion show. His inviting smile and soft features stood in clear contrast with her disinterested gaze and defined facial features. And while his energy seemed approachable, his guest's vibe screamed that if you even looked at her the wrong way you would not want to stick around to find out what she would do to you.

Wondering what exactly the little brute wanted with sweet Charlie, Doña Rosita turned to her beloved benefactor, and asked referring to the grown-up brat in a taunting manner that was not entirely intended to be playful, "¿Aver, Carlitos, dime, quien es la princesita?"

(Alright, Carlitos, tell me, who's the little princess?)

That question caught the Good Boy by surprise as he struggled to even find the right words to describe the type relationship he has had with Veruca in English, and so Charlie went for the most generic description he could muster to explain what the pair were, replying, "Es una...amiga de la ninez, Doña Rosita."

(She's a…childhood friend, Doña Rosita.)

Doña Rosita turned back to observe the stuck-up brat cast sneers at the restaurant for not being adorned with chandeliers like her childhood home, then back at The Good Boy who actually gave the brat affection even though she never reciprocated, and wondered what these two had in common that would have justified a relationship spanning back into their youth. And so, the owner commented with so much distain herself, "No te quiero ofender, Carlitos. ¿Pero como podrias ser amigo con una Niña Fresa como ella? Mirala, bien curra la muchachita."

(I do not want to offend you, Carlitos. But, how could you be friends with such a snobby girl like her? Look at her, she thinks she's all that.)

Instead of trying to fight Doña Rosita on the character of his guest, Charlie admitted that Veruca was a bad nut, chuckling before stating, "Si, puede ser muy consentida."

(Yes, she can be very spoiled.)

Doña Rosita was only half-joking when she called Veruca a snob, but to hear confirmation from someone she viewed like one of her grandchildren only hurt her when she saw her grandson with such a bad woman, to which she made sure to express her disappointment in the situation, saying, "Ay, Carlitos, no me digas eso. Puedes encontrar a alguien mejor que ella."

(Oh, Carlitos, don't tell me that. You can find someone better than her.)

Charlie understood many good-hearted people would think such a thing after looking at him and Veruca for more than a second, but instead of explaining that he was trying to make up for failure to save her when she was a child, he instead chose to mention his lack of success at finding a life partner, clarifying, "Lo he intentado, Doña Rosita, pero aqui estamos los dos. Y además, solo somos amigos."

(I've tried, Doña Rosita, but here we both are. And besides, we're just friends.)

More than confused at the predicament Charlie found himself in, Doña Rosita decided to change the conversation from the man who improved her life tenfold to the son she playfully disparaged, saying, "Pos...que al menos sea mejor que la novia nueva de mi hijo. El pendejo escogio una de la vida loca, ni que estaba en la capital."

(Weeell…hopefully she'll at least be better than my son's new girlfriend. The dumbass chose a wild one, he thinks he's in the capital.)

Aware of the fact she was referring to Mexico City and its bohemian energy compared to the rest of the country, especially her quiet home village, Charlie toyed with her using some literalist humor, "Pero él si está en la capital británica."

(But he is in the British capital.)

Doña Rosita took Charlie and Veruca to a small two-person table next to a mural of Tabascans fishing in the swampy marshlands that covered the Mexican state, and the chocolatier's apprentice instinctively pulled out the spoiled brat's chair for her to sit down before she had to tell him to do so. The restaurant owner watched as this kind gentleman pulled out all the chivalrous stops for an entitled hussy who would not even say thank you afterwards, yet she could not say anything that could knock some sense into Charlie because it seemed her generous benefactor had already been ensnared by the seductress and saying anything might damage her relationship with the heir more than it would the relationship between the heir and his date. Benito, on the other hand, was just interested in doing his job, and as he handed Charlie and Veruca their menus he said, "Here are the menus, just let me know when you're ready to order."

Before Veruca could pick up the menu from the table and look the items over, Charlie put his hand out to grab the casebound booklet, and retorted, "Um, actually I've thought this over and I have an idea of what to order. Do you like the taste of garlic on fish, Veruca?"

"Sure," the little brute responded, unsure of what to make of Charlie's seemingly newfound penchant for controlling of the situation.

Placing such a specialized order in such a direct manor was one of the few areas in life where Charlie socially exceled at, and because he was surrounded by people he was comfortable with, he looked up at Benito and Doña Rosita and ordered, "Okay. Tendremos dos órdenes de Carpa al Mojo de Ajo y dos..."

(We'll have two orders of Garlic-Buttered Carp and two…)

Unsure if his fellow Golden Ticket winner would even like his idea for a drink, Charlie stopped mid-sentence, and asked her, "Veruca, have you ever had hibiscus tea before?"

"No," Veruca immediately replied.

"It almost tastes like cranberries. Does that sound like something you'd like?" Charlie added, attempting to pitch the idea of an exotic drink to a girl who had to have everything go according to her plan.

Essentially having been dragged here, Veruca did not really care about the drinks Charlie wanted to order, and simply responded, "I'll try it."

Deciding to take Veruca's routine disinterest in the lives of others as nothing less than a minor inconvenience, Charlie put on a smile for their hosts, and added, "Great. Y dos Aguas de Jamaica, por favor."

(And two hibiscus teas, please.)

And, as she wrote down what Charlie requested on her restaurant order pad, Doña Rosita finally got to stare down at Charlie since she was only taller than the lanky man when he was sitting down, and said in a grandmotherly tone before walking back to the kitchen to prepare the order herself, "Claro que si, Carlitos. Danos unos minutos y les traemos sus ordenes."

(Of course, Carlitos. Give us a few minutes and we'll bring out your orders.)

"Enjoy your stay," Benito interjected, heeding his mother's promise before returning to his station in front of the restaurant to greet entering clients, leaving the two former Golden Ticket winners alone at their table where one would have to explain to the other what just happened.