It is a rather nice dinner, if only because it's with good company, and far better than he was expecting with this blind date he had. He wouldn't call whatever it is Harry and he are doing just now a date--a coincidence, maybe, and a happy chance, but not a date.

He lifts his glass in a little toast. "I hope you're not thinking this gets you out of coming back to the cafe some time," he says, and then sips his wine. He's not sure he likes it. He's sure it will grow on him.