Tina and Bette sat opposite each other at the table, exchanging glances. Tina was placid, Bette was wary. As the minutes passed by, Bette broke the not-quite-pleasant silence.

“T, I’m not so sure about this.”

Tina reached across the table and held out her hand. Bette took it.

“Don’t be such a buzzkill, babe,” Tina teased.

“I’m not. And I’m sure some of history’s greatest survivors were also ‘buzzkills,’ as you call those with a well-developed sense of self-preservation.”

Tina rolled her eyes. “Drama queen.”

Bette sighed. “I just hope everything is well-done. There are untold health problems you get from undercooked food.”

“I’m sure it will be fine.” Tina gave Bette’s hand a reassuring squeeze. She looked past Bette and smiled. “Ah, here we are.”

Helena appeared next to their table and sat two plates down in front of them. Tina had a small helping of a pasta dish with a creamy-looking sauce and unidentifiable reddish chunks in it, and Bette had some kind of fish with a decorative sprig of green next to it.

“A plate for each of you,” Helena beamed, looking slightly overworked. Her hair was coiled tightly on her head and her face looked slightly red. Bette smiled at her as convincingly as she could.

“You’re both so sweet to sample my dishes. Your input will be invaluable to me as I try to settle on a menu for my restaurant.”

“We’re both happy to help,” Tina said warmly. She cast a leading look at Bette. “Right, babe?”

“Uh, yeah. Yes. Of course,” Bette said. “Happy to help.”

“Great!” Helena clapped her hands together once. “You try these dishes out and give me your honest opinion. You can’t hurt my feelings, I promise. I want real feedback. I’ll let you guys eat and I’ll be back with another sample in a little while, alright?”