Irene could only stare as the bristly chef hugged Sam.  She smoothed her serviette on her lap.  She looked back as Louis rejoined them, smiling at him.<br/><br/>"I honestly prefer the pot pie.  I'm a simple food kind of girl," she said.  "And, the champagne is fine.  Perhaps some tea..."<br/><br/>Louis smiled once more and nodded.  He turned to Sam and took his order and then bustled off.<br/><br/>Irene smiled at Sam.  "You certainly got an unusual response from Phillip," she said.  "He's generally a bristly character.  And, taciturn.  With you, he was positively loquacious."  Irene sipped the champagne once more.  "The coq au vin is more vin than coq.  And, he doesn't reduce the sauce long enough and it splatters when you eat.  I'm wearing white, as you can well see.  I don't want to stain one of few clean shirts."  She glanced around the room, noticing that many were looking to Sam.  She could well imagine the questions and rumors his rapport with Phillip might start.  As her eyes roved over the room, she looked beyond the diners to the long shadows on the street outside and watched a rider pass by.  He was dressed in a suit.  But, there was something familiar and she couldn't place it.  Was it the suit that was familiar?  Or, was the man familiar?  She let it go and turned back to Sam, smiling at him.