A lovely evening, naturally, but enhanced by lovely company. Sandy Hawkins
holds the door of Patel's Family Restaurant open for his companion,
Dolphin, with a flourish and a lopsided grin. The outside isn't fancy, but
once you're in those doors, it's all gold...or seems to be. The wallpaper
is intricate - red background with ridiculously detailed, busy-to-the-eye
gold leaf worked in; all around the walls are paintings undoubtedly taken
straight from India, when the owner decided to try his luck at New York
City. There's cloth on the tables, and the chairs are padded red velvet.
All in all, it's very pretty, but a tad overdone...if you were unkind, you
could say the place is about five feet away from being kitschy.

She steps through the door, not precisely 'cautiously', but with an air of
someone who isn't quite used to her setting. Dol's eyes brighten with
amusement at the antics of her - oooh, yes, let's say the word - date, and
she smiles at Sandy before looking around with an air of blue-eyed wonder.
Of course, judging by the bemused expression on the face of the waiter
approaching, there might be some sort of problem with 'no shirt, no shoes,
no service'. Well.. she does have a shirt. Part of a shirt. It's close to
being a shirt. She doesn't seem in the least chilled, considering it's a
late November evening.

"It's an art experiment," Sandy improvises, even though the host didn't
ask. "NYU. You know." The fellow seems satisfied with this, amazingly
enough; with the looks he's giving Dolphin, it appears that all he needed
was a legitimate excuse. Now he can stare all he wants and not feel
guilty. The host-fellow ushers the two...heh...superheroes over to a table
by the wall, pours them each a glass of water, leaves menus, and grins a
tad leerily. "Will return," he says in heavily accented English.

Dolphin blinks a bit at the leer, eyes narrowing slightly as she watches
the host wander off. Shaking her head, she takes in the room a bit more.
Then, reaching for the salt shaker, she occupies herself with dashing the
glittering mineral into her water glass, and stirring. An amused smile at
Sandy. "Art experiment?"

Sandy grins slightly, looking down at his menu. He glances up at Dol,
still grinning; uck, he also still looks terrible. "Yes, well. Normally
restaurants don't take too kindly to people coming in without shoes." He
pauses, then decides not to say anything about her shirt. He's, well, bad.
But nice, too. Really. "And they deal with NYU kids all the time here -
it's the best Indian restaurant in Manhattan."

Dolphin looks slightly abashed. "Oh!" She glances down at her bare, and
rather noticeably webbed, feet. "I didn't think." She runs equally webbed
fingers over the menu's edge, and opens it. "The last time I went to a
restaurant was with Superman; he lent me a skirt." Nope. Nooo-oo idea how
that sounds. She's so innocent. Reads the menu.

Sanderson blinks at Dolphin. He knows how innocent he *thought* she was,
but that kiss...then he shakes his head, laughing softly. The man leans
across the table, pointing at different parts of the menu. "Y'might like
that...this is all vegan - all vegetables and some grains - but that one's
mostly made've different kinds of seaweed." He pauses. "Can you have sauce
made out of something like ginger?"

A creature of contrasts, isn't she? She can kiss like she stepped out of
Madonna's coffee table book, but culturally speaking, Dol only has bits
and pieces to work with. She considers the question. "I think so? I've
never tried it." The list in her hand is regarded with interest. Then,
snagging Sandy's fingers, she kisses them lightly before returning them
carefully to their former pointing position. The entire little operation
is accomplished without her looking up. "What are you having?" she asks
benignly.

Damn good thing she's *not* looking up; Sandy's *blushing*. My, my. Is
this cute, or simply pathetic? He takes his hand back carefully, answering
after a second, "I'm gonna have the fried vegetables. Um, with the, uh,
puffy bread...and the ginger." Fumbling for words, too. Good lord, if Jack
were to see him now..

Dolphin doesn't notice. Or, at least, pretends not to notice. Is that the
slightest hint of a mischievous smile on her lips? No, never. It's merely
a pleased smile, one denoting enthusiasm for the atmosphere as she does
look up, pale eyes focusing on Sandy. "Let's get both then, and share," is
the friendly suggestion. "Do you come here often?"

Sanderson laughs with, oh, just a *suggestion* of nervousness in his
voice. "Okay," he says, then answers the second question, "Often
enough...I still can't pronounce the names of the dishes. The guys back
there just laugh at me when I try." He reaches over and takes a sip of
water, then flags the waiter down.

Dolphin sets the menu on the table and folds her hands demurely in her
lap, turning her gaze to the waiter. The man in question starts a bit,
pausing in his ogling as he notes the eerie pale centres of her eyes, or
perhaps the webbing on her fingers and toes. If Dol notices, she doesn't
show it, merely looks attentive, and lets Sandy do the ordering.

Awkwardly, now, Sandy tries to pronounce the proper names of the
dishes...then sighs, gives up, and points them out on the menu. "That
one...and the thing with the kelp...and the really *poofy* bread. It's a
riot," he offers, grinning slightly. "And ginger sauce. For both. And if
you have any cola, that'd be great, too." Well, it is a family restaurant.
Kids generally won't settle for tea.

Dolphin waits for the waiter to walk away. Looking at Sandy, she has a
sort of debating expression, but whatever it was, she opts not to say it.
Instead, she tilts her head to the side, and observes, "You still have a
nasty cut. Do you feel alright?"

Sanderson nods, leaning back, putting his non-maimed arm over the back of
his chair. "Yeah," he says, then lets out a little laugh. "I've had to not
smoke, though; breathing's hard enough as is with bruised ribs. That guy
really did a number on me. But hey," he can't resist adding, "I can still
take out ninjas like nobody's business."

Ninjas? Whoa. OK, judging by that proud-little-boy expression, there's
gotta be a story there. Dolphin duly blinks, and picks up her napkin,
smoothing it over her lap. "Ninjas?"

Okay, that's a *giant* grin. You /know/ he was just waiting for an
opportunity. Well, no, he was majorly enjoying your company, but he's
gotta tell as many people as he can about this one. "Had this dream," he
starts out casually, "That there were gonna be shadow things in with the
JSA stuff. All the stuff that was on display at that Event we went to in
Gotham. The stuff's in storage, right? So, coupled with the rumors I'd
been hearing about the Spear of Destiny being loose, I figured it wouldn't
hurt to be on the lookout over in Gotham, by the warehouse where all the
JSA things were waiting to be shipped back here." He pauses. "And there
were ninjas rooting around in there. Batman and Robin showed up. I think
they thought I was robbing the place." Another pause, more
thoughtful...then he shakes his head and looks back at Dolphin, eyes
twinkling, "But I busted up a couple ninjas real good, even though *I'm*
still kinda busted up."

Dolphin has the air of someone who's just sort of letting words wash over
them, not understanding half of them, but determined to be attentive. Like
a friendly exchange student. That last part is clear enough, though, and
she laughs. "That's very.. impressive." She means it, too - it just took
her a second to find the best word for it. Then, concerned, "Is the.. ah..
stuff, still in danger?"

Sanderson shakes his head, completely unconcerned. "Nah. It never really
was. Some things collectors might be interested in, but none of the stuff
that was in there really had any value, as weapons or otherwise. Just
sentimental." He grins. "The rumors are just rumors. Robin seemed
interested, though."

Dolphin looks across the table at Sandy, possibly a little lost. "Rumors?"

Sanderson nods, "Sure. People telling tales. Saying stuff that's probably
not true."

Dolphin nods back, and reaches for her (salt)water glass, raising it to
her lips. She takes a sip, and sets it back on the table. "I know what it
means," is the amused reply. "Rumors about what? I lost track somewhere."

Sanderson laughs suddenly, blushing again. He brings his hand to his face,
then runs it through his hair, grinning sheepishly. "Woah. Sorry. You just
looked so blank over it..." He shakes his head, still grinning. "Rumors
about the Spear of Destiny being on the loose. It was a major mystical
weapon held by Axis powers during the War - kept all the metahumans in
Europe controlled physically and mentally by the evil powers over there."

Dolphin blinks. "That's.. terrible!" Her pale brows draw down. "But it's
not true? You're sure?"

Sanderson nods with certainty. "I know who's in charge of keeping it," he
says simply. "The rumors are completely bogus."

Dolphin nods, satisfied, and contents herself with looking at Sandy for a
bit. Not staring.. just sort of looking. With a smile on her lips. One
hand rises to push a stray lock of long, platinum hair back over her
shoulder.

And...the food comes! Wow, what service, what speed, what beautiful
timing. The waiter sets the kelpy dish in front of Dolphin, setting a
little bowl of ginger sauce next to it, and the veggie thing in front of
Sandy, with *its* own little bowl of ginger, too. Then he sets a couple of
really big poofy bread-things down in the middle of the table and bows
slightly, sneaking a look at Dolphin's cleavage as he does so. "Enjoy!" he
says, then walks off, a spring in his step. /Men/.

Dolphin is completely unabashed, but does take the opportunity to roll her
eyes at the man's back before turning her attention to the food on the
table. "It smells delicious! How do you eat it?"

With a bemused look, Sandy pushes one of the poofy breads across the
table, and tugs the other toward himself. "First," he says, smirking a
little, "you go like this." He holds up a hand, then pokes a finger
through the top of the bread. He places his hand over it, then, and pushes
down, deflating it like a balloon. "Then you use the bread to pick up the
rest of the food. Y'gotta dip it in the sauce, too."

Dolphin watches, then attempts to imitate, though the webbing on her hands
means that the bread is slightly hashed as she pokes a finger through it.
She only smiles at it and deflates it, then regards Sandy's dipping habits
and imitates that too, taking a careful sample of the ginger sauce. Her
expression as she tries it is curious, then contemplative. And, finally,
pleased. She swallows. "It's very good."

Sanderson laughs! and takes a bite; he watches Dolphin's expression, then
grins. "So you like it hot, huh?"

Dolphin smiles sweetly as she reaches for her water, and quite calmly
takes a long sip of it. "It's... not what I'm used to. But it's good." She
adds sauce to the next little bite, too. "I would take you to dinner,
too," she notes, "but you might not like fresh seaweed."

Finishing his mouthful, then munching a piece of bread to neutralize the
spice, Sandy raises his eyebrows. His eyes are bright, and that's a pretty
darn impish look he's giving you. Impish, but also something a little
nicer. "I'd try it if you wanted me to."

Dolphin looks startled, then laughs - an admittedly rare sound, but one
which you seem to surprise from her more than most. It has a quality to it
like a quiet wave breaking over the table. "Maybe." She tries a bit of
bread on its own. "I wish you could swim with us."

Quietly stirring his bread in the unidentifiable mush next to his
vegetables, Sandy leans back again and looks at Dolphin, thoughtful.
"Well...I don't sink like a stone. And I know how to swim. But...I can
only hold my breath underwater for three minutes." His brows furrow.
"Would it be taboo or anything for me to suggest swimming with a wetsuit?
Scuba gear? I mean, I know it wouldn't be at all the same...but who knows,
maybe you could show me the sights..." So it sounds lame. It sounded a lot
better in his head.

Apparently she doesn't find the idea too lame; Dol brightens a bit at the
idea. "We could do that. I know Superman has some suits that would work."
She thinks a little further, and adds, "And there's Poseidonis; you can
see that any time, at least the part Orin has above the water."

Sanderson grins. "That wouldn't be cheating?" He takes a big bite of the
bread, and some of the vegetables - don't want to let it get cold.
"And...Orin...wouldn't care if I visited?"

Dolphin blinks. "Why would..." Wa-ait. Hold on a sec. She pauses, and taps
a finger on the table. "Oh." A little surprised at the idea. "I don't see
why. I almost never see him anymore, so he couldn't possibly be..." She
reaches for her water, and sips it. "No problem."

Sanderson raises his eyebrows, looking at Dolphin vaguely askance. "Okay,
I trust you." He grins, "'Cause, y'know, he can beat me up, too."

Apparently that isn't /totally/ outside the realms of possibility, because
Dol only shakes her head, setting her glass back down on the table. "He
wouldn't dare," is the firm response.

Hmmm. Well, fighting does Sandy good. He flashes Dolphin a grin, sweeping
up the rest of his vegetables into the bread, then pouring the ginger over
it and wrapping it all up like a burrito. "I'll look into scuba gear,
then. And how do you get to Poseidonis? Plane? Boat?"

Dolphin continues her bread-dipping, apparently not going for the burrito
effect tonight. She smiles. "Boat. I'm not sure how long it takes. It's a
few hours if I swim it, so maybe about the same." Y'know, she's a lot more
talkative than she used to be. Either she's getting used to that whole
vocal thing, or you just have to get to know her first. "I'll see if I can
get you a suit, too."

"Mmm," is all Sandy can say as he spicy-burrito-munches. He nods, though.
That was definitely a nod. Between mouthfuls, he says, "Was that
/Superman/ you said might have one? I mean, I know I'm not...well,
/scrawny/...but you think his suits would /fit/ me?"

Dolphin shakes her head earnestly. "No, Superman doesn't need one himself.
But I know he had one that Lois used. So he probably has one that you
could use." She takes a bite of puffy bread, and adds, unnecessarily,
"I'll ask." And then, with a concerned frown, "But not until you feel
better."

Sanderson looks a little wounded at being compared to Lois - whoever that
is - but shrugs it off. From anyone else it coulda been an insult. He
finishes off his dinner, then sits back again, finally starting in on his
cola. "Okay," he says, amused, "You ask. And, okay. Better means when the
cast comes off, because as far as I know, plaster doesn't make easy
friends with water."

Hey, she didn't necessarily mean the /same/ suit. Dol's concern deepens at
the wounded look, but it's a different sort of concern. More of an "oh,
no, what did I do now?" expression that flits behind her eyes. She may be
quiet, but she doesn't have much of a poker face. Nevertheless, she perks
at your amused tone, and nods. "I'll show you where I live! It's very
pretty."

Sanderson sips his cola, a laugh right behind his eyes. "Is it as pretty
as you are?" Okay, this is more familiar footing. Words. Words are easy
enough.

Dolphin laughs again - listen, twice in one evening! - and replies, "Much
more! But thank you." She, too, eats the last bits from her plate, and
turns her attention to sipping her salt water. "I think the pod will like
you. They liked you in the rowboat."

Sanderson grins, eyebrows going up again. "They did? What did they say
about me?" He sets his glass down, laughing. "Are they spreading terrible
rumors about me?"

Dolphin smiles, and shakes her head. "They call you 'Floater'. And make
jokes about tipping your boat."

Sanderson grins, flagging down the waiter again. "Floater, huh? Wonder
what they'd think of my swimming. Prolley make fun of me," he laughs,
digging in his pocket for - oh god, how yuppy and modern - his plastic. He
hands it to the waiter, then grins at Dolphin. "Dare 'em to tip me next
time. I'm sure I can surprise them."

That smile doesn't leave her lips. "Maybe I'll let them. After the cast
comes off."