"S-sir? What will you have? Perhaps, um, wine? Most of our pah-patrons order the Merlot..."<br/><br/>The restaurant wasn't a bad place, Galen had to admit. The decoration was a bit... expressively Italian. And quite crowded - too crowded for his taste. But still elegant and pleasant to dine - even if his preferred dinner was presenting the menus and showing guests to their tables. The Ragazza was generally pleasant to the eye. So was the company. Galen risked a quick look at Blaire's face. She was... edible.<br/><br/>He let a tiny smile flash onto his face and disappear. "Chianti." he said to the impertinent waiter. "Classico, 1997 was a good year. Anything from Castellana?" He nodded as the waiter mumbled something about checking out, confused. Galen allowed himself to snort. "No fava beans. This kid should not be here." he said to Blaire as the waiter had vanished, his tone of voice quiet, his composure impeccable. He was a crude thug for a vampire. But when it came to humans, he had a 50 year advantage over Blaire in terms of manners and sophistication.<br/><br/>"Beer? My dear, you not only look gorgeous, you act gorgeous, as well! I should have traded the Volvo for a leather jacket and a motorbike."<br/><br/>He carefully reached out and touched her hand for a second. It was merely an acknowledgment that she was there, occupying all of his attention.<br/><br/>Which she was.