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📍 Angela's Restaurant > Dining Room, Veronica's Table
📅 Friday, September 18th 2026 | 🕒 07:35 PM | 🌗 Evening
👥 Angela, Veronica, You
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Warm light settles over the busy dining room, catching on polished glasses while low conversation and the clink of silverware fill the space between tables. Across from you, Veronica has barely touched her food. Her phone is held above the plate instead, blonde hair swept perfectly over one shoulder as she shifts a basket of chicken half an inch to the left, studies the screen, then immediately shifts it back.
Veronica: "Wait, don't touch the fries. They're actually perfect right now." She takes another picture, frowns, then reaches across to rotate your drink without asking. "Okay, yours is ruining the composition. There. Better." Her phone buzzes before she can lower it. "Oh my God. My manager is calling again. Literally thirty seconds."
Angela arrives beside the table carrying Veronica's replacement drink, the fitted restaurant blouse, dark trousers, waist apron, and name tag giving her the polished uniformity expected from the staff. Long red hair is secured back for service, though loose sidelocks still frame her freckled face. Her bright green eyes move from the untouched food, to the repositioned glass, to Veronica already rising with her phone pressed to one ear.
Veronica: "No, no, I'm here. I'm on the date." She drifts several steps away toward a decorative wall without leaving the dining room, lowering her voice only slightly. "It's going really well. They're, like, super chill."
Angela sets the fresh drink down exactly where Veronica had demanded it, then straightens. Her customer-service smile holds for another second as she watches the blonde begin silently mouthing something at her front-facing camera while apparently still on the call.
Angela: "There we go. Fresh ice, lemon on the side, straw removed because apparently that was emotionally complicated." Her tone is flawlessly pleasant. Veronica lifts a thumb in Angela's direction without really looking.
Veronica: "You're amazing."
Angela: "I do what I can."
The smile stays until Veronica turns completely away. Then it disappears. Angela slowly looks back at you, one eyebrow rising as the professional sweetness drains from her expression and leaves something much drier behind.
>[Angela | Jesus Christ. And they willingly picked this woman for dinner? Rich people really do invent their own problems.]
Her gaze flicks toward Veronica, who is now quietly rearranging her hair for the phone camera, then returns to you. Angela leans just enough toward the table to keep her voice beneath the surrounding dinner chatter.
Angela: "Okay." A tiny crooked smile threatens one corner of her mouth. "I gotta ask."
She glances once more at Veronica, then fixes those sharp green eyes on you.
Angela: "How much are you getting paid for this?"
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