fandomtownies | Taste of Thai, Wednesday Evening

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Taste of Thai, Wednesday Evening

Cindy had taken care to dress nicely for her office hours, since she had planned to head directly to the restaurant after she closed up her office. "Table for two," she told the hostess on duty. "I made a reservation for Perrault?"

Hardly necessary, to be sure, but after the last dinner debacle when she couldn't get food from a restaurant for love nor money, Cindy wasn't taking any chances. She was more than gracious when the hostess excused herself to make sure the table was ready. If it wasn't, Cindy didn't want to know.

Comparing this dinner to any of the meals shared with Crane was almost a reflex, but Cindy shoved those thoughts out of her head completely. The last thing she wanted was to ruin what was sure to be a lovely evening with thoughts of Paris.

A moment later, the hostess returned, all smiles, saying the table was ready. Fabulous!

[Cindy is here on her date, but the restaurant is public and open.]

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Henry raised his eyebrows when he spotted Cindy with the hostess. He hoped there wasn't any problem with the reservation.

He hadn't bought flowers this time, but he had changed his tie after work, and put on a jacket even though the air was still warm. He figured that counted as making an effort.

"Is everything ready for us?" he asked Cindy.

Cindy was kind of hoping that he'd brought pictures of Alba in his pocket again, though. She was more interested in those than flowers anyway.

"All set," Cindy replied, turning an appreciative smile towards Henry. "Perfect timing, actually. I've just been told that our table was ready for us whenever we want to sit."

"I," Henry said, offering his arm, "am excellent at eating. So that sounds about perfect."

He had pictures tucked away on his phone, yes.

Cindy slid her arm through his and followed the hostess into the dining room. "They'd better have vegetables," she murmured to him in an undertone. "As opposed to the night I tried getting dinner for us."

Henry suppressed his snicker beneath the heel of one hand. "Well, they would have told us if they were entirely out of food," he reasoned. "So we're off to an excellent start."

He looked around the restaurant hopefully after they took their seats, gesturing to another table. "They have food."

"If they run out, we can always take theirs," Cindy said, nodding to the table Henry had pointed out. "How do you feel about..." she eyed one of the plates "drunken noodle?"

"I was so disappointed when I found out there was no actual alcohol in the sauce," Henry said, half-joking. "I still think the name's false advertising. But if it's that or nothing..."

Cindy laughed. "I said the same thing the first time I tried it!" she said. "Unfair. If you're going to call something 'drunken' there had better at least be rice wine involved somewhere."

"You have to wonder how many kids order it thinking they're getting away with something," Henry said. "Placebo effect's pretty powerful. They might not even work it out."

"If a bunch of adolescents want to sit around eating Thai to get 'drunk,' I can't really complain about that," Cindy said, resting her chin on her hand and gazing at Henry with a smile. "There are worse habits to have. I'm sure we could both admit to some, should we decide to trade stories of our misspent youth."

"I'm sure we could," Henry answered. "Though I'll take that as an opening to ask what you did with yours. Also how you feel about spicy food."

"The spicier the better," Cindy said immediately. "Pain is a flavor, don't let anyone tell you differently."

She took a small sip of her water before answering his first question. "I grew up in a very strict and sheltered family, which I think I told you about. Got married young to get get away from them and boy did that not work out. After we divorced and I was free for the first time ever, I went a little crazy with it. Boys, petty theft, stuff like that. No drugs, though. I swear, my life was a Lifetime Original movie or something."

Or a fable. One of the two.

"I taught myself petty theft when I was about seven," Henry shared. "Not recreationally -- it's just a survival skill when you have my, ah, gift."

The word tasted sour to him. "I think if it's a Lifetime Original Movie, a faded sitcom actress has to play you."

"Now I'm trying to think of which actress I'd want to play me," Cindy said. "Please not the dumb one or the whiny one from that show? The one about the friends?"

Cindy had kind of hated that show. Also, the one about nothing, too.

Henry hesitated. "They all seem dumb and whiny to me," he admitted. "I've never watched enough TV to develop a taste for it. I'm told I'm missing out."

"You're not missing out," Cindy assured him. "The ones who tell you otherwise are wrong. I promise. And this isn't some kind of snobby aesthetic thing, either. I like a movie with explosions just as much as the next girl. But sitcoms..." She shook her head. "They're all foolish situations that could be avoided if people just sat down and talked to one another. It annoys me."

...Said the spy.

"But even in real life, people never want to just sit down and talk to each other," Henry offered. "I've seen the hoops people will jump through so they don't have to ask a question they don't want the answer to. It's mind-boggling."

"Just so we're clear, Henry, if you ever book a date with me and someone else for the same night," Cindy said with a laugh, "just me know, okay? Don't try to attend both at once. I'm going to notice."

"Not even if there are literally two of me right then?" Henry asked, just to clarify.

Cindy pretended to think about it for a moment. Then discarded the first thought that came to mind, which was decidedly naughty. "Is my Henry going to appear naked randomly at the beginning or vanish halfway through?" she asked instead.

"I can honestly say that that would be decidedly counter to my interests," Henry said, waving for a waiter. "Though I can't say it's never happened."

Cindy paused to give her order to the waiter and allowed him to fill up her glass, before replying to Henry. "I promise to be as understanding as I can should that occur," she said lightly. "Though I get to demand another date if you vanish and leave me with the bill."

"I wouldn't do that to a lady," Henry protested, mock-shocked. "I'm not quite that boorish. Promise."

"There are many things I am, Henry," Cindy said with a laugh. "But a lady is hardly one of them."

Ex-princess, sure. But never a lady.

"My mistake," Henry said. "Does that mean I should start belching and slapping your ass?"

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