“I buy it online. It’s called Seas of Trinidad. But please don’t judge me when you see the price. It’s a luxury I allow myself.”
“Oh, I’m absolutely judging you when I see the price.” He sighed. “But then you don’t have a smoking habit to support, so I bet you can afford it.” The only reason he still smoked was the thought of dealing with the world sans nicotine.Maybe I can quit after this competition. Life should seem easy then.
“Here we go.” Their waiter trudged back with a white ceramic teapot, a couple of mugs, and a little green box of tea bags. He spread them out across their table. “We had a spill in the kitchen and we’re running a little lower on staff for the night.” He finished his setup. “You guys need longer to look at the menu?”
“Yeah.” Tristan felt bad for the guy. He’d probably been looking forward to a nice, easy late shift. “Just a couple minutes, we got to talking.”
“No problem. I’ll be back.”
Tristan glanced to the single-sheet menu they’d provided. The fare wasn’t beautiful or gourmet, but it seemed perfect for a late-night meal. Lots of classic, simple food, and most of it under ten bucks. Within Tristan’s price range. “You know what you’re going to get?”
“Umm... the chicken club. That should keep everything clean for them. Last thing I want to do is give an understaffed kitchen a big, complicated order right before closing.”
Surprising. So far, Henry’s ego didn’t seem to be dominating. At least not all the time. “Sounds good.”
Henry sighed and ripped open a tea bag wrapper. “So, thanks for humoring me.”
“Well, you know.” It wasn’t a totally comfortable conversation, but it wasn’t painful or awkward. No worse than average small talk. “I’d already called my sister, and I wasn’t ready for bed yet.”
“Yeah, but you were close.” Henry winked at him. “All warm and comfy in your bathrobe.”
“Well, I’m not highfalutin enough to have a bathrobe at home, so I took advantage of it.” Would Henry pick up on his use of the word?
It didn’t have anyvisibleimpact.
The waiter came back up with his pad and pen. “Okay, what’ll it be, boys?”
Tristan jumped in first. “Can I get the croque monsieur?” It wouldn’t make much extra mess for the kitchen either.
“And I’ll take your chicken club.” Henry picked up both menus and handed them back. “And could I possibly get some cream?”
“Cream’s no problem. I’ll get that ASAP, and the sandwiches should be out in a few minutes.” The waiter headed back toward the kitchen.
Tristan gaped at Henry. “Cream? Please tell me that’s not for your tea. For your mint tea.”
“Don’t judge me for that either.”
“I’m absolutely judging you for the cologneandfor this. You wanted to know what would make me lose respect for you? Putting cream in your mint tea is the answer.”
“Have you tried it?”
Tristan rolled his eyes. “Of course not. It’s an abomination.”
The waiter dropped off a little metal pitcher without a word. Henry pulled his tea bag out of the hot water and set it on his napkin, then grabbed the cream. He dolloped some into his mug, stirred it, and handed it across. “Try it.”
Tristan took it, examining the milky, pale-green tea. Like jade in a mug. It smelled fine. How bad could a little cream make mint tea taste? Then again, he’d thought the same about putting cream in his coffee one disastrous morning—never again. Black all the way.
Tristan raised it to his lips and took a slow drink. There was an immediate hit of strong mint—he’d have to make sure to get that brand if he could find it at home—followed by a nice creamy finish. Like... like a liquid version of those peppermint puffs that showed up around Christmastime every year. Not sweetened, but the same besides that. Although sugar was an intriguing thought. “It’s not bad.” He handed it back. “It feels very indulgent.”
“I like it with sugar, but I don’t want any more sweet today.”
“Valid point.” Tristan hesitated a moment, then grabbed the cream and poured some into his own mug. He set the tea bag aside and drank a lot deeper from his mug. “Okay, I cede to you on the cream and mint tea.”
“Stick with me and I’ll never lead you astray.” Henry winked, and Tristan liked it a little too much. But luckily, he was in for a rescue.
“All right, guys.” Their waiter was back again, food in tow. “We’ve got your croque monsieur and your chicken club. Are you good on the tea?”
“I think everything’s fine,” said Henry. “Thank you.” He didn’t wait for the waiter to leave before biting in. Tristanalwayswaited for the servers to leave before eating. He didn’t eat out much, but it seemed rude to make someone working for tips stand there and watch you stuff your face.
