The Lonely King [OLD EDITION]

7. Unagi Don

"And we'll never be royals;
It don't run in our blood,

That kind of luxe just ain't for us;We crave a different kind of buzz."

    ◘ ◘ ◘     

I stared at the elegant building made of glass, watching the patrons inside dressed in dashing suits and gowns as they ate. I looked down at my baggy uniform and scruffed-up sneakers, and then glanced at Robin, who looked impeccably smart and neat in his fitted uniform and shiny, polished leather dress shoes.

"I'm under-dressed," I stated, gulping as I took in the sight of the magnificent building before me.

"It's alright. You're with me," Robin said, before surprising me by grabbing my wrist and dragging me to the entrance.

"Hey!"

I tried to yank my arm away but to no avail. Robin just shook his head and smirked. There was already a long queue of well dressed customers waiting outside the restaurant, but Robin ignored the line and strolled straight up to the counter. The man dressed in a suit behind the counter looked up at us, a disgusted frown graving his features as he took in my appearance, baggy clothes and all.

"Are you lost?" He asked, his thick French accent throwing me off-guard.

"Monsieur, I have a reservation for two here," Robin said without hesitance, staring down at the man as if daring him to disobey.

"You? A reservation here? Sir, this is one of the most respectable establishments in France. It's nearly impossible to get a reservation here," the man replied snootily. Robin narrowed his eyes and retrieve his phone from his pocket, dialling a number on it. Immediately, he began to speak to the person on the receiver in fluent French.

In less than five minutes, a portly man dressed in a similar suit as the man behind the counter rushed out of the entrance, bowing deeply when he stopped in front of Robin.

"Monsieur Clair! Monsieur Clair, I apologise for keeping you in wait! We have the best table cleared and ready for you, please, come inside now," the man said, the tag pinned onto his suit told me he was the manager of the establishment. My eyebrows shot up in surprise. Robin sure had a lot of connections.

The man behind the counter immediately turned several shades of red upon realising who Robin was, and apologised profusely. Robin barely acknowledged the man, walking past him without a second glance. I hurried after him.

"This is the best Japanese restaurant in Paris," Robin stated as he took a seat in the dimly-lit private booth. The waiter, with trembling hands, placed the menus in front of us.

I stared at the foreign mix of French and Japanese words on the menu. I glanced up at Robin, who looked like he already knew what he wanted to order.

"Do you know what you want?" Robin asked, in which I shook my head, cheeks flushed.

"What's your favourite Japanese dish?" he asked, signalling a waiter over.

"Unagi don," I replied instantly, my mouth watering at the thought of the tender teriyaki eel and fluffy white rice.

"Are you ready to order?" the waiter asked, clicking his pen on his pad.

"I'll have a fugu donburi," Robin said, glancing at me. "She'll have an unagi don."

"Sir, we don't serve unagi—," the waiter began, but caught himself when Robin gave him a glare. "I'll have the Chef prepare it for you immediately."