Dinner, No Dancing!

Posted on Wed 7th Aug, 2019 @ 4:26pm by Lieutenant Commander Andrew Eberstark & Carlo Rienzi

1,455 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: A Diplomatic Affair
Location: 10-42
Timeline: MD 7, 1730

As Andrew and Serena walked together, approaching their destination, Andrew found his thoughts being split between being happy about how things were progressing with Serena and the ongoing investigation. The latter of which was one of the reasons causing him to almost polish off 1/3 of a bottle at Orchids. Suddenly, he became acutely aware of his imminent dinner date with Serena and he straightened his posture next to her.

Reaching the restaurant, Andrew motioned for her to enter first, "After you. Have anything in mind for dinner?"

A small sign near the front door invited them to sit where they liked. A variety of seating was available, in booths along the wall, at tables for four, in a couple of sofas grouped with armchairs and coffee tables, and at the bar. The pub looked spacious and well lit. The current music was a recording of an instrumental violin piece called "Morrison's Jig" performed by a group called Celtic Stone. At least, that was the name flashing onscreen as Andrew and Serena entered.

"Let's take a look at the menu. I haven't been here often enough to memorize it, but there might even be daily specials. That music is certainly happy," Serena said raising her voice a little to be heard. Laughing up at Andrew, she added, "Makes me want to tap my toes, at the least."

Andrew immediately waived his hands and shook his head, "Nope. No way. I have no intention of dancing or tapping my toes. You'll have to get me to drink a lot more to see that disaster," pointing towards two open seats at the corner of the bar. "There are two open seats if you don't mind the bar. Unless you have another preference."

"If there's a table, I'd prefer that. It feels more ... private, I guess." She looked around the room. "This is more of a family place than I thought. That's good. There's a table back there, but I'm not sure how it works, not having been here above half a dozen times." She nodded toward a space on the side near the back wall. "Do you suppose we can simply go sit down?"

He shrugged, "Sure, why not? Since nobody has come up to greet us yet, I don't think they'd have an issue with us seating ourselves."

They both hesitated on actually heading over to the table before Andrew took the lead and started walking over, motioning Serena to follow, "What's the worst that can happen?"

Serena laughed, and said, "That isn't a question I try to ask very often!"

The pub was very busy, and from what she remembered of the food she'd had before, that was no surprise, really. There were pictures on the walls, and from what she could tell at this distance, they were reproductions of actual antique photographs. She'd have to ask about them. As the came to the table, she waited to see if Andrew would take the seat that put his back to the wall or to the room. She made a bet with herself which he would choose.

Moving ahead of her, Andrew pulled out the chair closest to them for her to sit down and moved around the table standing by his seat, waiting for her and observing the restaurant, "See? We haven't gotten yelled at yet have we? Nothing to be worried about."

"We'll see," she said in mock wisdom. "We haven't passed the dirty looks test yet." She sat and looked around at the other customers. "Quite a nice crowd, and varied clientele, more family-oriented than we usually have. Do you know the story of the photographs, by any chance? They can't all be related to the owner!"

A blonde waitress dressed in a gray button-down shirt, with black slacks and a black apron, approached their table and smiled at them. "Hello, and welcome to Pub 10-42! My name's Andrea, and I'll be serving you this evening. Have you had a chance to look over the menu?"

"Not really," Serena said, with a quick smile at Andrew. "We were admiring the environment." Turning her attention fully to the waitress, she said, "Tell me, who are all those people hanging on the walls?"

"My last duchess," Andrea said, deadpan. Then she grinned and went on. "The photographs in here relate to the name of the pub. 10-42 used to be an old Earth police communications code that officers in the field transmitted to their dispatcher when they were going off duty. So the people in all of these old photographs are police officers from Earth, as well as from other planets, when Carlo could find them. We even have a couple of police dogs and one of a Vulcan sehlat that was used in their law enforcement. Now that we've come here, Carlo has gotten some group images of retired Security staff."

"Now that is interesting," Serena said, noting the odd sense of humor the woman displayed. "Though the duchess story makes a good line, too."

"Switching topics, though, is there a particular special for the day, or something that people particularly come to 10-42 to eat? I've been here a few times, but I haven't figured out what you are known for serving."

"Ah, you know: 'That's my last duchess hanging on the wall, /looking as if she were alive. I call /that piece a wonder now,'" Andrea quoted. "It's from a poem by Robert Browning of Earth.

"As for the thing we are known for--well, that's one of two desserts, the Bailey's Irish Cream Chocolate Poke Cake, or the cannola filling without the cannola tubes, which is some Italian name I have a hard time pronouncing--Riempimento di Cannola. They both make me want to drool. The regular entrees are pretty much 'create your own,' so we don't really have signature dishes with them."

"Hmmm," Serena consulted with Andrew, "shall we go for pizza or pasta?"

Andrew's focus went from the waitress to Serena and back again taking in their conversation, and he was delayed in his response, "Oh, sorry. Was that question directed at me? I enjoy both, but if you're looking for something to share, I think pizza would be the way to go," thinking for a moment, he added, "Don't tell me you want pineapple on it though."

"I want pineapple on it," Serena laughed at the grimace he made. "And lots and lots and lots of cheese and pepperoni. Plus, no anchovies or mushrooms, ugh! Is that a deal breaker then? And I want the cannoli dessert, and I don't want to share that." She was still smiling as she waited to see if she would have to eat an entire pizza alone, or if they would compromise on something else. "Or I could go with baked ziti, or whatever they have that comes close."

"You can always make the pizza half and half, so you both get what you want," Andrea said. She winked at Andrew. "My boyfriend and I are the same way as you two are about pineapple on pizza. I think it's food of the gods; he thinks it's horrible."

Andrew nodded to the waitress in appreciation, "Thanks for the solution. Tell him I can empathize with his situation," looking back at Serena. "I have tried it exactly three times and still think it's a bad combination. I'm fine with plenty of cheese and pepperoni though. So, half pineapple and half the good stuff then?"

Serena smiled at Andrea, "Yes, put all his pineapple on my side. I can take it. I love the mix of salty and sweet and tomato and ... well, all of it!"

Looking back at Andrew, she said, "I'm just giving you a hard time. You don't have to like what I like, as long as we can work out a compromise. Thanks for not just agreeing to what I wanted."

"One pepperoni pizza, half pineapple, coming up," Andrea said. "What would you both like to drink?"

Andrew hesitated, torn between continuing his choice of drink from Orchids and Jazz or to behave himself. Looking at Serena, he smiled and said dryly, "I guess I'll have a water. No fun drinking alone is it?"

"I'll have water, too, just so you don't have to," Serena winked at him. "In fact, make it a double," she grinned at the waitress, wondering if she thought they were completely crazy. Crazy, happy, was there a difference?

"Pizza and a pitcher of our finest, ice-cold water, coming up!" Andrea said as she keyed in their order and left them to enjoy themselves.

 

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