Squinty Eye

The really was one of Murph's favorite places to go. Not for the nautical-themed décor or the steady flow of sea shanties, though those did give a sense of theater to the place.

Murph just happened to agree with whoever at the Parsnip had given Squintys top rank for their fish and chips. They were superlative.

And it had been too long. Murph didn't often eat as much as he could. That would be impractical. But tonight? He was in a mood, and he didn't feel like holding back.

He took a seat on the far corner of the long table in the room they'd reserved. To his consternation, Levity claimed the seat across from him.

"Are you just drinking?" she asked. "Or will you eat?"

"I'm hungry," he admitted.

"Oh, good. Me, too."

He snorted. And waved a hand at the waiter. "Fish and chips, hold the chips. Just keep the fish coming until I say otherwise. Please."

Levity brightened. "Oooh, I like the way you think. Same, Bobby, but with these skewers."

"You two are gonna keep me running, I can tell," said the young man with an easy grin.

Levity laughed. "Wanna bet I can match your pace, Murph?"

"You're welcome to try, but we're splitting the bill."

"If you can keep up, I'll treat."

"Don't take me lightly, Levity Jones."

Ten minutes later, he was humming and grumbling around hot battered cod. And keeping up just fine, but in a battle of a more idiomatic ilk. "Something can spring to mind."

"And put a spring in your step."

"I could spring something on you."

"And I would spring into action." She dropped another bare bamboo skewer into the empty glass from her first iced tea.

"Springing to life."

"Spring fever."

"Spring cleaning."

Further along the table, Angelo's wife mock-whispered, "What are they doing?"

Mick drawled, "I think they think it's a duel."

Moniqua, who joined their office parties as often as she and Angleo could arrange for a sitter, asked, "Does anyone else think it looks more like flirting?"

Murph sat back when their waiter brought another plate of fish.

Apropos of their current theme, Levity sprang to his defense. "Don't tease Murph. He can do better. After all, I'm no spring chicken."

"I'm not flirting. But … you're not old, Levity Jones."

She snorted. Then she put her last two beef skewers on his plate and murmured, "Spoils to the victor." And excused herself from the table, going across to the bar.

Moniqua leaned forward, waving a hand to catch Murph's eye. "Go after her!"

"I wasn't planning to drink." He lifted his sparkling water with lime demonstrably.

She rolled her eyes. "You need to go after her."

"I really wasn't flirting."

Angelo said, "Not that I was keeping score, but … Levity was ahead by one when she conceded."

"Sneaky," said Tippy, all smiles.

Mick gruffly asked, "You're letting her have the last word?"