Ryan in Jeopardy?
T'Vit's eyes barely touched the menu before she placed her order. "I shall have a bowl of plomeek soup followed by unseasoned steamed vegetables served over white rice," she announced.
"I shall try the jook with a thousand-year-old egg, please,"
T'Sorvik said to Wade.
"A thousand-year-old egg?" T'Vit asked, raising an eyebrow.
"It's not actually a thousand-year-old egg," the little girl replied, giving no sign that she had never heard of the dish ten minutes ago. "That is simply the name of the dish."
"Terran?" T'Vit asked, since such an illogical name for a dish could have come from few societies. Had the name included the word "blood", she would have assumed it was Klingon.
"Of course," T'Sorvik replied, in the manner of a Vulcan much older than the little girl appeared. One person in the bar (the blonde lady at whom T'Sorvik had grinned) knew it was at least partially an act.
After their orders had been placed and Wade departed, T'Vit looked over at the bar. Ryan Vincent was standing behind it, wiping a glass clean. There was no need for him to do so, as there existed machines to wash the glasses for him (and others to replicate clean glasses should he run out); but it seemed to be an age-old tradition that bartenders either wiped the glasses and surfaces of their bar or spoke in a supportive manner to the patrons in between filling out orders for potent potables.
T'Vit indicated nonverbally to T'Sorvik that she remain in the booth, and approached the bar. "Mister Vincent?" she asked. When he nodded, she introduced herself. "I am T'Vit, wife of
Storvik."
Ryan dropped the glass, which shattered on the floor.