Deeto! (But... Actually?)

Suzanna stood outside the restaurant, a small building with exposed black bricks called "The Ogre's Plate", wearing a simple dark green dress that came down just under her knees. Her voluminous hair was brushed and combed, strategically covering the plasters and claw marks. She also wore flat black shoes on her feet, one of which she was tapping impatiently and nervously.

She had shown up way earlier than expected, and now she was standing outside this place, sticking out like a sore thumb. Patrons came and went, many of whom stared at her in shock and awe, especially the children. She alternated between half-baked smiles and looking away.

Eventually, Simon pulled up on his custom chopper motorcycle, wearing black jeans, white tennis shoes, and a button-up denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his massive forearms. He slowly took off his biker helmet and shook his head, causing his hair to bounce about.

His... beautiful... black hair...

Now, it was Suzanna's turn to shake her head, even going so far as to look away

(What am I doing? This isn't a date!)

"Hello," he said, startling her, "You're early."

(How'd he get behind me so fast?!)

She quickly spun around to face him, "O-Of course I am!" then put her hands on her hips and held her nose in the air, "Sarah always says if you're on time, you're thirty minutes late."

"A wise policy," he said. He suddenly averted his gaze, "Honestly, I was surprised you came

She then folded her arms and glared at him, "I wouldn't have heard the end of it from you if I didn't show," before looking away again and grumbling, "Probably would have had me wrestling crocodiles or something."

She turned back to see him cupping his chin and closing his eyes with an expression of thoughtful consideration.

"That wasn't a suggestion!" she stated.

He opened his eyes, "Too late."

"Huh?!" she squealed.

"That's not important right now," he said, walking past her, "Follow me."

As he was making his way inside, she felt the urge to say something, "Hey, uh..."

He stopped and looked back at her.

"Y-You, uh, told me... to look decent," she said, feeling the heat in her cheeks, "D-Do I?"

He took a moment to look her up and down, making her even more embarrassed in the process and said, "Yes," before going inside, needing to lower his head slightly due to his immense height.

So focused was she with the sudden flutter in her chest that she did not move.

"Are you coming or what?" he asked, snapping her out of it.

"Y-Yes!" she said, all but running after him and hitting her own head on the doorframe, "Ow!"

She walked down a long set of stairs while rubbing away the bump that had formed on her forehead. The exposed bricks were still visible in the interior, and there was some light violinic jazz music playing. Most of the patrons were dressed in business casual, and just like the outside, many of them were staring at her.

She frantically searched for Simon. She found him seated in a far and quiet corner booth and quickly shuffled over before sitting down herself.

"So, what's this about anyway?"

He just handed her a gigantic scaly menu and said, "Order whatever you want."

"You didn't answer my question," she pointed out.

"You haven't eaten," he stated, "So, order something."

"That's it?"

"Yep."

She frowned, "I don't believe you."

He began to wave the menu about, "Believe what you want."

After a couple of seconds, she took it and looked inside, and her eyes became as big as the plates from which the other patrons were eating. The burgers, the pizzas, and the pasta dishes were completely foreign to her. What on Earth was Buffalo milk? Not to mention the platters on display. But then she saw the prices and immediately began to shake.

"S-S-S-S-S-Simon..." she squeaked.

"Hmm?"

"Th-Th-This stuff's really expensive..."

"And?"

"I can't afford it..."

"Who said you needed to?"

"Huh?"

"I invited YOU here, didn't I?"

"But-"

He gritted his teeth, which had become shark-like, and growled,

"Just order something, dammit!"

She had more reservations, but before she could voice them, a growl was heard.

A really, really loud one.

So loud, in fact, that every single patron and waitron turned head in the direction of the booth with the two giants. One of whom had a head that, for the second time today, resembled a tomato.

Suzanna tried to bury most of it inside her menu, and a very dangerous glare from Simon prompted everyone to go back to their own business. Once they did, he let out a sigh.

"Um..." she began, "I can... really order anything?"

"Yes."

(How many times do I have to say it?)

She looked up at him sheepishly, "Anything I want?"

"Yes!" he snapped, "Now, for the last t-"

She raised her hand, both to silence him and call over a waiter, who was clad in some sort of medieval garb.

"Greetings, mine lady and ser!" the waiter said with a practiced flair.

"Hello, Benjamin," Simon said.

"Ah, Lord Thompson! I seeth thou hath found a fair maiden."

Simon gave Suzanna the side eye, "I'm not so sure about that."

Benjamin laughed, "You never change. So, what art thou having?"

"I'll have my usual," He said.

Benjamin nodded and looked over at Suzanna, "And for thee, dearest...?"

"Suzanna..." She said while glaring at Simon, who wasn't even looking at her. She then held up the menu. The wide open menu.

Benjamin raised an eyebrow, "Hmm...?"

"I'd like everything on both pages, please," She said.

Simon's head snapped, "WHAT?!"

She smirked, and her eyelids blocked out her sclera. She looked like a giant doll, 

"You said I could order anything I want, right?"

A cold sweat ran down the back of his neck, "Yes... I did..."

Her smirk became a smile. A big smile. Full of teeth. Long, sharp, canine teeth.

He clicked his tongue, "Whatever. Do what you want."

"Thank you!" she exclaimed.

(Jerk!)

"Then, I shall inform the cooks," Benjamin declared with a bow after taking the menu, "Good day to you."

The two were left alone and a silence fell between them, followed by the music and chatter from the other patrons.

"Hey, seriously though," she said, "What did you think?"

"Nothing," he stated plainly.

"Really?" she slid her hand under her hair to feel the plasters on her face, "Not even about-"

"Let's play a game," he said, looking her dead in the eyes, "For the rest of the day, professional wrestling does not exist. Okay?"

Lowered her hand and then her head, "Okay."

He sighed again and rested his head on his fist while looking out into the restaurant, "Okay..."