Hope led Andrey into a small restaurant tucked between two taller buildings—the kind of place you'd walk past a hundred times without noticing. The interior was warm, lit with soft yellow lamps, and smelled of grilled meat and herbs. A few other customers sat at scattered tables, their conversations a low, comfortable murmur.
They settled into a booth near the back, the wooden table worn smooth by years of use. Hope picked up the menu, her eyes scanning the options with an intensity that Andrey found almost amusing.
"Have you been here before?" he asked, picking up his own menu.
Hope nodded, not looking up. "A few times. Their lunch specials are the best. Generous portions, reasonable prices." She glanced at him over the menu, a small smile on her lips. "I figured you'd appreciate that."
Andrey's lips twitched. "I'm not that frugal."
Hope raised an eyebrow. "You wore the same suit every day."
