“Wow, I get the five star treatment” grinned Stella, “medium-well for me please, I like it pink, but not the way my Dad did. He used to say to just run his steak through the kitchen and that was cooked enough.” She smiled at the memory and then asked “which dressing would work best for the salad? Orange-ginger, a vinegary-spicy red pepper-sesame, or blue cheese? Maybe you prefer a Ranch dressing?”<br/><br/>Stella walked over to a pad of sticky notes and wrote her number on it. “Here you go, my number.” Tesla was mewling and trying to open the door, being tall enough to manipulate levers had its advantages for the big cat. “Let me know.” She returned to pet Licorice, “bye li’l missy, see you in a few days,” and to Anton “it was lovely, but if I don’t go now Tesla will shred your door. Besides, I need to play for a bit, I was lazy today.”