Mel wiped her forehead, the steam from the soup and heat from the bain marie having helped her build up a slight sheen of perspiration. "I've been helping my parents waitress since I was about 14," she told him, resisting the temptation to levitate the trays for the dirty dishes up from under the benches. Her mother would have just rolled her eyes and turned away, but she wasn't about to do it in front of Virgil, so bent down to grab them and put them out on the servery for the return of the dishes.

"You're not bad yourself," she returned, indicating the remains in the trays. "You done this before?" she asked, looking across as Stephanie came in through the door, arms full of cartons, clearly full of more than just the extra plates she had gone to purchase.