Deeto Finito!

Simon was obviously the first to finish, while Suzanna had barely scratched the surface of her full order. And she was still eating. That poor swordfish. If it had a soul, it could rest easy knowing that its sacrifice was not in vain. If not, all the better.

Simon sighed and flagged Benjamin over.

"You beckoned, Lord Thompson?"

"Can we have the bill, please?"

"At once, ser!"

Benjamin left and quickly returned. Simon looked it over, and a low grumbling noise could be heard. He stared daggers at Suzanna, but she was either ignoring him or too deeply engrossed to notice.

He sighed again and pulled out a THICK wad of cash.

"Keep the change, consider it a tip."

"Thank you most kindly, ser!" He said with a bow, while graciously accepting the cash. "May thy day be blessed."

Simon jabbed a thumb at Suzanna, "And she'll take the rest TO GO!"

"Understood, ser!" Benjamin turned and clapped, and the waitrons returned to remove the spoils she had not touched yet and even what she did. This was enough to get her attention.

"Huh? What? Hey!"

Simon stood up, "Time to go."

"But I'm not finished," she whined,

"Finish it in your own time," he said, while walking away, "Come on."

She quickly wiped her hands and her face, before clumsily knocking the table about as she stood up and followed, again drawing eyes, "Hold on! Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

"But what about my food?"

"We'll come back for it," he called from the staircase, "Hurry up."

She wanted to say something else, but, again, became aware of the onlookers and practically ran after him.

(Don't these people have lives? Geez. This better be good.)

When she got outside, she found him walking to his motorcycle and approached.

"I forgot to ask," he said, helmet in hand, "How'd you get here?"

"I... walked," she said with a shrug, "My house isn't far from here."

She suddenly facepalmed.

(Why did I just admit that?)

"Ow..." she groaned, having nearly broken her own nose.

Simon looked off in the distance and let out yet another sigh, "It can't be helped then." he put on his helmet and sat down, "Hop on."

A gust of wind blew past, carrying his words to her ears, "Huh?!"

"There's something I need to show you, and I don't have time to go get a bigger ride," he turned the key and the handles, revving the engine as he backed out of the parking spot.

She stayed rooted to her spot, "But-But-But..."

(Riding... on the back... a motorcycle... Simon's... motorcycle... Like a... Like a...)

He gripped the handles tighter, "Will you just..." then relaxed his grip and calmed down, "Can you please just treat me? I promise you, it'll be worth it."

She continued to stare at him, then looked around.

(Sarah would kill me if she saw me on a motorcycle.)

She then gulped and took a step forward, and another and another and another...

(But... Sarah's... not here.)

... and then another and another, then one BIG step over the seat.

"Thank you," Simon said, "Now hold on tight."

She immediately wrapped her arms around him.

"What are you doing?"

"Th-There's nothing else to hold."

"Yes, there is. You can grab the sides."

This only prompted her to squeeze, which caused him to squeak ever so silently.

"L-Let go of me you-"

"No!" she yelled, before mumbling, "I'll never get another chance like this..."

"What?"

"I said, I've never done this," she buried her face into his broad back, taking in his scent, "So... I'm not letting go."

He could feel his heart hammering in his chest for some reason. The harder she squeezed, the worse it got. He didn't know what it was, but he knew he didn't like it. He didn't know who to blame, and he liked that even less.

"Dammit all," he growled as they sped out of the parking lot.