Dinner discussion

[ghargreaves]

The restaurant in the hotel was relatively busy, patrons from both the hotel, and outside, enjoying the cuisine. Gerald had booked a table after confirming a time with Julianna, and was, as usual, early. He had ordered a gin and tonic, and was just finishing it when the sommelier, or at least what Americans thought passed as one, appeared with the bottle of wine Gerald had ordered.

"Yes, that's the one," he confirmed when shown the label, nodding when asked if he would like it opened. "Yes, it needs to breath," he told the young man, figuring that if nothing else, at least the chap would have a better understanding of the role he was employed to fulfill. "And another gin and tonic, if you would be so kind," he told him, pleased he hadn't had to tell the chap that the bottle should be opened in front of him and left to breath on the table. At some ghastly restaurant in New York they'd tried to take the bottle away, and tried to act offended when he clearly pointed out that he wasn't about to give them the opportunity to decant the wine in the bottle and replace it with a cheaper variety.

He nodded his approval of the linen napkin that was correctly draped around the neck of the bottle, as he had instructed, and settled back in his chair, returning to observing the tide of humanity that was dining in the Golden Nugget that evening.

Comments

Re: Dinner discussion

[ghargreaves]

Gerald absorbed the information, head tilted a little as he listened. The only occasions he'd been in one place for any duration was on some of the more involved 'digs', where there was a great deal to be observed and monitored as items were uncovered that the Council needed to ensure were 'safe', or in some instances, procure them to remove them from circulation, and causing any undue grief. He had always regarding his home as being in London, and it had only been since his wife's death that he had been less anxious about returning home as quickly as possible. Now he was a widower there was less pull on him to return, and if he was honest with himself, he would admit that returning home usually carried a good deal more pain than pleasure, as the empty rooms and darkened drawing room, his wife's favourite room, only served to remind him of his loss. Now he found that having a reason to extend his stay somewhere was more welcome that the journey home.

"So how long have you been here?" he asked, taking a sip from his glass then adding, "and have there been any visits from other Watchers?"