xp_logs | Doug and Angie, date night

Doug and Angie have a Saturday date night, wherein they talk about the training Doug is getting from Remy, per their discussion a while back.

"Buona sera, Signor Ramsey, Signorina Colbert," the maitre'd at
Cupini's greeted Doug and Marie-Ange. "Lovely to see you this
evening. Just the two of you tonight?" Off of Doug's smiling nod, he
led the couple deflty back through the floor to a somewhat secluded
booth away from the main crush of customers. As they settled into the
booth, the maitre'd produced two menus and placed them on the table.
Dinner at Cupini's was a standby of Doug and Marie-Ange's Saturday
date nights. They didn't go to the restaurant every week, but often
enough to be recognized and greeted by name as regulars and treated
accordingly.

Marie-Ange hrm'd thoughtfully over her menu, and the accompanying wine
list as she usually did, weighing what she was in the mood for and
what she knew the restaurant did exceptionally well. Absently, she
picked up a piece of bread from the small basket at the table and
pulled it into pieces to dip in the plate of olive oil. "I think I am
in the mood for seafood." She said, almost to herself. "It is
usually delivered... I think on Fridays, yes? It should be fresh.."

"Thursday or Friday," Doug replied, even though he knew Marie-Ange's
question had been half-rhetorical. "They want to have the fresh stuff
for the Friday rush, and it's usually still pretty good for Saturday
or Sunday. Tuesday or Wednesday you're better off ordering something
else." He perused his own menu, frowning in thought. Nothing really
looked all that appealing to him at first glance. When the waiter
returned with their drinks, Doug's frown remained. "Could we have a
few more minutes?" he asked, and the waiter nodded and made himself
scarce.

Marie-Ange watched Doug flip a page in the menu back and forth several
times before she set her nibbled-upon piece of bread down on the small
plate in front of her. "Are you feeling well? You usually do not take
quite so long to decide?" He hadn't ordered anything to drink either,
hadn't even really looked at the wine list much, nor had he touched
any of the bread.

Doug flipped the page several more times before setting the menu down
with a deep breath. "I'm...not feeling all that hungry," he said
after a long moment's glance at the ceiling. "Late lunch with Remy."

"On a Saturday?" Marie-Ange asked, raising an eyebrow. "That is ...
unusual." She looked puzzled - and felt exceptionally puzzled. "Is
everything alright?" But before Doug could answer, she tilted her
head, and the expression of confusion changed to one of concern.
"Oh. You should have told me." That explained the frown, and
why he'd been working later hours and she'd barely seen him for the
last two weeks, and why Mark had a pile of tabloids on his desk. "I
had wondered when you would ask him."

"It's been an...interesting week and a half," Doug said, leaning his
head back and closing his eyes. "My brain hurts." The entire late
lunch with Remy had been spent being quizzed by the Cajun about the
patrons, tiny things about their appearance or actions, assessing
which ones were possible threats, all the while never actually looking
like he was observing them. It was one of the most difficult things
he'd ever been asked to do.

"Your brain hurts because of lunch with Remy?" Marie-Ange asked,
puzzled. "I do not understand why..." She caught the pensieve look
on Doug's face, and picked up her menu, turning it so Doug could see.
"We could order several small things and you can nibble at them?" She
offered, changing the subject briefly to give him an easy solution to
the problem of food. "Then if you only want to taste, it is enough
for you to have a little and for me to have a meal?"

"That sounds good." Doug was relieved to have the stress of
decision-making taken off his hands a bit. Given how hard he'd worked
his brain earlier that afternoon, mostly he just wanted a quiet night.
"When I say 'lunch', what I really mean is 'Remy working me
mercilessly on my observation and analyzation skills'," he said wryly.
"He's...demanding."

"So he is no different from any other time he asks you to do
something?" Marie-Ange said wryly. "I think I still have bruises
from the last time he was training me." When the waiter returned, she
spent a few moments ordering several small appetizer dishes, and a
bottle of wine. "You asked him... last week, or the week before,
yes?" She asked, thinking back to when she'd first starting seeing
Mark with the big pile of papers, instead of Doug with them and a hot
cocoa.

"About a week and a half ago." Doug finally reached across and took a
small piece of bread to nibble on. "As hard as it was, it was also
kind of interesting," he allowed, leaning forward and gesticulating
with the bread. "There was this guy sitting there, but not reading
the menu, and Remy said..."