John politely pretends not to notice the way she slows to take it in. He settles into the booth across from her, casts about for some sort of rustic board of offerings— and instead finds the waiter, dressed in a jaunty tabard, chipper as ever.

"Well aren't you cute. How about a milkshake?" It is not wholly clear which of them he's talking to. Maybe both. John waves this off with an absentminded Thanks and collects the menu, which is now printed in fancy script. He passes one to Gideon with a hum of consideration.

"I don't even see a milkshake, but apparently we're doing chicken dinners. Garlic bread, that's nice. And cheesecake, hard to go wrong with cheesecake."