No sooner are the fries and the Zesti finished than Bea is sweeping back to the table, smiling broadly at him, having fended off the bartender. Grant picks up the remaining packages and follows after the woman, glancing over his shoulder at the man behind the bar. "Yeah," he replies, walking along behind her.

As they step back outside into the cool afternoon air, Grant moves to walk alongside her, then tilts his head in the direction of the club they'd just left. "What was the deal with him?" he asks, meaning the bartender. He also wants to know what this idea is that she came up with, but one thing at a time first.