“I did tell you. Irish pub. Weren’t you listening?” Summer glanced over, eyelids flickering slightly. So. There was much more to him than was publicly known. “So we are showing off now?” She put on a bit more speed.
“Just down this block by my apartment, and … ” She landed lightly. “Here we are. Now, I’ve shown you one of mine, perhaps you’ll return the favour.” She swung the door open, with that shot, and stepped inside.
No, he hadn’t been.
But when did he ever, really?
He sped up as she did, not allowing himself to fall behind but not passing her either. No, he didn’t need to beat her.
In his head, he already won.
He stopped when she did, an eyebrow arching slightly as he watched her head inside.
… eh. It was debatable.
He stepped in after her, looking around before back at her.
“… Nice place. Never been here before. I don’t get out much.”
“That’s quite a change for you, isn’t it?” The place was quiet. Well, early afternoon, it wasn’t surprising. She lifted a hand to the greeter, who gestured them to a little table away from the windows without batting an eye.
“Thanks, Shelby,” Summer said, taking menus and silverware from the waitress. “Give us a minute.” She picked up the drinks menu, flipping through it idly, then looked up at Tony.
“See? No ping pong balls.”