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"Orange juice," he says, in the manliest voice he can muster. The waiter nods and leaves, his face betraying nothing until raucous laughter can be heard from the kitchen over the quiet jazz.

"Orange juice?"

"Yes, orange juice. You got a problem with that?"

"No, no it's fine." Bruce gives him a crinkly smile, watching him peer intently at the menu.

So the scientist pulls out his own.

"He didn't like me," Tony points out, in mock despair.

"At least he left you alone."

"Yeah, but he didn't like me..." He whines.

"Maybe you should dress in drag, then. People won't recognise you, but with twice the drama."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Tony purrs, delighting in the way Bruce's face tinges ever-so-slightly pink in the dim light.

The man returns with their drinks and the engineer sips his orange juice contentedly.

"Don't you dare threaten to buy me an appletini ever again."

"Why not?"

"Do I look like a fifteen year old girl?"

"Says the man with the purse and the magenta ski parka. And yes, yes you do."

Tony huffs.

"The hell kind of fifteen year old girl drinks appletinis and not...apple juice?"

The engineer grins, and points to himself theatrically.

"This one!"

He sighs. "At fifteen? You were allowed to drink? But-why did you think that was a good idea? That's so irresponsible!"

Tony narrows his eyes.

"You're kidding, right? What were you drinking at fifteen?"

"Vodka sprite, but without the vodka."

He snorts.

The waiter saunters up to their table, notepad out.

"What can I get you guys to eat?"

Bruce orders some calamari to share, and a salad.

"Tony?"

"Mm? What?"

"What do you want to eat?"

"I uh...I'll have the um..."

His eyes scan nervously over the menu.

They're waiting for me they're waiting for me they're waiting for me

What do I do? Oh my god...

Stupidstupidstupid

He clears his throat and chooses a random dish.

"Risotto cakes, please."

The waiter nods politely with a curt smile, and retreats to the back.

Bruce notes that the engineer had spent this entire time staring listlessly at the menu, but was clueless when it came time to order.

He shuts his eyes and opens them to the ceiling, squinting.

"Tony?"

"Tony? What are you doing?"

"I don't have a lot of juice yet, so I'm calculating how long it'll be before the waiter comes back, so I can order more."

"Really."