A/N: I really love the ships of Parker/Quinn, Ian/Charlie, and Eliot/Clint, and while they aren't focused on in this fic, they are mentioned. (Thanks to symbioticdeath (On AO3) to introducing me to Parker/Quinn). And while they aren't a focus in this story, they're in the background. And murder cups are totally borrowed from Mind your P's and Q's (also on AO3).

"Eliot, you gotta come out here."

At the tone of the waitress' voice the hitter looked up from prepping vegetables with Juan, one of the line cooks. They were between the lunch and dinner rush and Julius, his lead chef was deboning ducks for the night's special; the vegan special that night was going to be a roast tempeh with a sweet and sour red cabbage and a potato dumpling.

"Lisa, what's wrong?"

"Really creepy guy at table 10."

Mary walked in with a bin of dirty dishes and added "He's not creepy, just a Fed."

Eliot thought that if anyone could identify a Fed outside of the core team it would be Mary; she'd had a little trouble with check kiting that Hardison had helped her clean up. He wiped his hands and looked out the door. "What's the problem? We get Fed's all the time."

"Yeah, their office is down the street." Julius looked up; he didn't love having Feds in the Brewpub. But, what could you do; they needed to eat too. And they paid, which meant he got paid.

"Where's Quinn?" Eliot growled.

The hitter was helping Jane train a new bartender, as some of their clientele could be a little interesting. Stupid yuppies who felt they owned the world were the biggest issue. "Hightailed it out of here, said something about the wrong kind of bitters." Mary added accepting some more plates from a waiter. "Or cherries. I think it was that the cherries for the Manhattans weren't organic."

"Hmph." Eliot grunted, that said something. "Lisa, switch sections with Amy; and send her back here."

He put down his knife, and looked out the window in the kitchen door. "He's in your usual spot." Mary grunted as she heaved the bin around Lisa as she went to find Amy.

"Hmmm…" Eliot rolled things over in his head.

"Eliot, you wanted me to come back here?" Amy waved her order book, there had to be pretty good reason if she was switching sections with Lisa.

"Yeah, tell Parker to go to Partners and get me twelve ducks, two geese, and stop for 2 quarts of ice cream on the way back."

"But, that's…" She did the calculations in her head. "That's like a three hour trip."

"Two, Parker's a, a, …" he tried to come up with the words with eight other things circling in his head.

"Bat out of hell." Mary added as she swung back out the swinging door. "She might have gone with Quinn; but, I'll tell her; and tell her to use the back door."

"Okay." Amy nodded, she'd seen the intimidating guy at 10; and Lisa hoof it to the kitchen. "Ten need special treatment?"

Eliot shrugged "I need to you take an iced chai to him, cream on the side, four Splendas. Take his menu away from him, tell him food will be out soon; and that he's a pansy-ass ground pounder."

"Decaf? Pansy-ass ground pounder?"

"Hrmph." Eliot grunted acknowledgement and went back to prepping vegetables. "Mike, I need a chicken pot pie; spinach salad, no tomatoes, Caesar dressing on the side, and yuca fries. Jorge, you have any of your tajin?"

"Si, Senor Eliot. Si."

"Good, need it for the fries. I'll get you more."

"Iffn' he's Army he'll kick yer ass up the side up the mountain if you give him fucking decaf." Mike barked, turning to Eliot "This ain't on the menu." Mike protested, even though he knew they had everything he needed to whip it up pretty quick."

"Is now." Three people chorused back at him.

"Chuckleheads." Mike grumbled as he got to work. "Boss, we haven't had yucca on the menu in a while."

"Hmm… Good idea." Eliot muttered as he thought about what they would pair with it. Maybe something like pollo guisado, a chicken stew. Even better pollo al horno, baked chicken. "Pollo al horno?"

"That man is grumpy." Amy announced coming back into the kitchen, "he needs more than chai; maybe a couple shots of tequila. He seemed a bit unhappy when I told him he was a ground pounder." She grabbed a basket of rolls and some butter, Table 9 wanted some more. Added it to her tray along with a fresh pitcher of water. And a second basket of rolls, Table 10 needed the calories. Her mom would say he was too skinny.

"Hrmph." Eliot grumped.

"Chicken would be good with yucca." Mike thought about it for a second, "the one with raisins."

"Mrff." Eliot grunted

"You tell him the Army stink is distinctive?" Mike tossed at Amy sneaking a look at Eliot, chuckling. He could get away with that type of ribbing; he'd done almost twenty years in the Army as a cook.

Amy just shrugged "Mokka podatha, Mike, you're just weird." She added as she headed back out.

E/N: From what I've obsessively googled and mokka podatha is a Tamil slang word meaning someone who cracks bad jokes. I honestly have no idea if Amy Palavi speaks Tamil; but, Amita in Numb3rs speaks a little Tamil – and I wanted the tie-in.