“Esme? What would you like?” I asked. She glanced down at the drinks menu, then looked up at me and smiled broadly. She leant forward, highlighting her assets.

  “I’ll have whatever you’re having, Bob dear.” She winked at me. I could feel the air around Jezebel growing colder by the moment.

  “We’ll have a bottle of the Grousebotherer, please,” I said as I gathered Esme’s menu and passed them both to Jezebel. She made me wait; the cardboard extended as she very slowly wrote down our order. Then she gave me an icy smile, snatched them from my outstretched hand, and spun away.

  “Awkward!” Esme chuckled. “Well, we definitely have the edge in staff! She’s such a cold fish! “

  “I think we both know she might have been thrown off her game when she realised it was us,” I replied dryly.

  “You mean you being out with little old me? She’s a fine figure of a woman! I can’t imagine she would feel jealous of a humble barmaid like myself!”

  “Esme…”

  “Yes, Bob?” he replied sweetly.

  “Don’t be a dick about it!” I chuckled, and she cracked a lopsided grin. The band changed song, and something not that far removed from smooth jazz began to permeate the air. Admittedly, it was smooth jazz performed on a lute, a three-piece drumset, and a flute, but if they were aiming for elevator music, they had hit the mark.

  “How long does it take to bring out a bottle?” Esme grumbled. “Seeing as we’re waiting and there’s music, how about we dance?”

  I am man, or dragon, enough to admit that I panicked at this question. I was hardly what you would have called coordinated back home. I could just about pass in a mosh pit as someone who wasn’t physically incompetent, but a proper dance with people watching from the sidelines? Not a chance.

  “It’s not for dancing, it’s for ambience,” I replied instead.

  “What’s ambience?” I suppressed a sigh. I hated it when someone asked me to explain a word I wasn’t sure I’d used correctly.

  “The feeling? The atmosphere, I suppose. It’s meant to provide a little background noise that sets people's moods and gives a little cover so you can’t hear everyone else's conversations.” I could hear everyone else's conversations, despite the mood music, and they weren’t filling me with hope. This place was being well-received by the locals. I once again fought down my anger at Angtirm for stealing my idea.

  “So there’s no dancing?” she asked as Jezebel reappeared and put a bottle of red wine down on the table. A pair of glasses quickly followed.

  “Would you like me to pour?” she asked.

  “No, thank you. Can we see the food menus, please?” I replied pleasantly.

  “Of course, sir,” she said, moving off while I poured our drinks.

  “Oh look! That’s Mr. Smiton! Mr. Smiton! How are you? How are the kids?” called Esme as she waved at a man three tables down who was sitting opposite a rather plain young lady. I could feel his wince from where I sat, and the sudden spike in volume from the young lady made it clear she hadn’t been aware of his marital status. A slap rang out, a glass of ale was thrown in his face, and the young lady stormed out, shooting a glare at Esme, who appeared a picture of innocence until the woman was passed; then she broke out into an impressively evil cackle.

  “Oh, that was fun! He’s a lecherous old bastard!” she whispered to me.

  “Aren’t all the guys kind of, you know?” I mugged, looking her up and down.

  “Sure, but he got touchy-feely when he shouldn’t have.” She scowled at the man now wiping his face off on a napkin. He rose and began to leave, shooting a dark look at my date. I flicked out an arm and stopped him dead in his tracks. I stood and glared down at him. If we were going to make some drama, I might as well have some fun as well.

  “I don’t like how you were looking at my lady friend,” I growled. Even as a human, I still had a solid growl. Mufasa was a shit-tier amateur in comparison. I pitched my voice to carry across the music, and every head in the restaurant tracked round to me like tank turrets towards a threat. I gave him a toothy smile. “I think you need to apologise.”

  “I will not!” he sputtered. “That woman just ruined my evening with her indiscretion!” Esme got another glare, and my fingers closed on his arm, only gently for now. “Unhand me you buffoon. I will have the guards deal with you if you don’t! That Jezebel you’re with isn’t worth your time.” My grip tightened, and he winced, his face becoming a pained mask.

  “Ah, the real Jezebel!” I said happily as she arrived to intercede. “I’m not sure an establishment like this should entertain womanisers like this gentleman. Would you like to throw him out, or shall I?” My victim’s head pivoted to the waitress, and he winced.

  “I’ll thank you for putting the customer down, Sir Bob,” Jezebel said coldly. “I can deal with this after Mr. Smiton settles his bill.” Nice one, Jezza!

  “The old dine and dash!” I was happy to put that idea in the heads of everyone listening. “If he causes trouble with the ladies again, I might make time to deal with him personally.” Intellectually, I knew I was so much stronger than the humans around here, but it hadn’t really sunk in emotionally yet. As I spoke, I saw people perk up, who must have had some inkling of who I was.

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  “He was leaving without paying his bill! What a shit!” I declared loudly. “You should be ashamed.” I shook him, lifting him off the floor with one hand in the process. “Settle your bill, you thief!” he kicked out a foot, but it bounced off my knee harmlessly.

  Once he was back on the ground, he straightened his clothes and glared at me.

  “I was not going to leave without paying, you idiot! Jezebel, ah, my apologies. I’d be happy to settle the bill now.”

  Jezebel passed me our menus and went to deal with the errant customer at the counter.

  “That was fun!” I whispered as I sat down. “Have you got dirt on anyone else in here?”

  “Well…”

  It turned out Esme knew pretty much everything about everyone. She rattled off a list while we waited for Jezebel to come back, and seeing as she was dealing with an irate Mr. Smiton, my date got to run down the whole list of gossip about more or less every single person in the room.

  As she was quietly reeling off who was the real father of that guy's children, exactly who, or rather how many, his wife had been sleeping with while her husband was out at work, the distinctly unsavoury kinks of that gentleman, I was experimenting.

  I had a bunch of dubiously legal things in my belly pouch. Honestly, I’d been planning on eating them, nosehairs and all, next time I was in the lair. I’d acquired a collection of monster bodies that, to my earth sensibilities, were weird and disgusting. The Grinkled Ocelot was a vile little thing, about two feet long, with a dozen eyeballs down each side of its body. The eyes oozed a foul-smelling substance that coated its fur as a defence mechanism. I focused, and sure enough, I couldn’t just pull out one of the eyeballs. I summoned the whole body, snatched two of its many, many creepy, slit-pupiled eyeballs out under the table, and stored the rest back in my belly pouch.

  I glanced around quickly, focusing on a couple at the table beside ours. One of the other waitresses had just dropped off their soup.

  “Esme,” I leaned in conspiratorially. “I need everyone to look at the band for a minute. Do you think you can distract them?” I winked and got a cheeky smile in return.

  “Please excuse me, Sir Bob, I must visit the ladies' room.” She rose, and I noticed that she somehow managed to hitch her short skirt up even higher as she stood. She swayed across the room towards the toilets, and every male eye followed her. She stopped and said “oops” rather loudly as she dropped a handkerchief and bent to pick it up.

  She somehow managed to time it perfectly, bending over just as every female eye tracked what had distracted the chaps. I struck. I had superlative reflexes in my human form, far beyond anything people were capable of outside of high-level adventurers. A couple of quick flicks and our neighbours had each received a modest addition to their bowls, with no one else any the wiser.

  A series of furious, but sotto voce, arguments broke out as various men were taken to task by their partners, and one fourteen-year-old boy was firmly ordered to keep his hands where his mother could see them. I snickered as Jezebel threaded her way through a suddenly tense and slightly uncomfortable room. The happy vibes of a few minutes ago seemed like a distant memory.

  “Where’s your lady friend?” asked Jezebel as she passed me the menus.

  “Just popped to the loo.” I scanned the menu quickly and ordered two helpings of the roast Gatnible, a waterfowl I knew was delicious with or without its feathers and beak.

  “Excuse me, miss?” said my male neighbour. “What’s the meaning of this? There is something wrong with my soup. It tastes foul.”

  “Oh my gods!” screamed his wife as she threw an eyeball-laden spoon across the room. It hit another woman in the back of the head, and she leapt up to shout at the man on the table immediately behind her.

  Jezebel and the other waiters rushed to deal with the incipient riot, and Esme returned from the lavatory, her dress back to its original, still wonderfully short, format.

  “What did I miss?” she asked as she slipped into her seat opposite me.

  “Oh, just a little problem with some soup that got out of hand, nothing to worry about. I’ve ordered us both the Gatnible. I hope that’s alright?”

  “Oh, lovely! I’ve never had that before! Far too pricey for us,” she said enthusiastically.

  “Tell you what, if you let me spoil it this evening, I’ll go hunt you down a dozen of them to cook up over at the Cod tomorrow. Deal?” She pouted but nodded.

  We chatted quietly while we waited for our food. As Jezebel threaded her way through the angry customers, politely deferring any questions for a time when she didn’t have two heavily laden plates of food in her hands, I winked at Esme, who suppressed a smirk.

  As the food was laid down, I leapt to my feet, flipping the table to the side. At the same time, I squeezed the ink gland of a Gamblesnark I had removed from my storage onto the food as the table blocked it from Jezebel’s view. The Gamblesnarks' ink was colourless and not terribly harmful, but if consumed in large quantities, it would cause extreme diarrhoea.

  “Jezebel! I’m sorry things didn’t work out between us, but attempting to poison our food is beyond the pale!”

  “Whu-What? I did no such thing, you fool! If you want to eat with a tit-brained floozy, it’s none of my concern! You will have to pay for that!”

  “You forget I’m an adventurer. I have a detect poison skill, which told me the food had been tampered with. You just admitted in front of everyone here that you have a grudge against sweet Esme. I shall not be paying for this meal!” I snapped. “I invoke Karen, goddess of Middle management! I need to speak to your supervisor!” I bellowed into Jezebel's worried face, all eyes turning to me. Everyone began eyeing their own food suspiciously.

  “Sir, I can assure you, it must be a mistake! The chef uses only the finest quality herbs and seasoning. Only the best ingredients, all locally harvested!” The Maitre D’ was in a full-blown panic. Half a dozen had suddenly complained of feeling unwell and demanded a refund or a free meal, but I’d invoked the Goddess Karen, so I was getting his attention while lesser minions scurried around to reassure the other customers.

  “I am sorry, sir. But I refuse to pay for the meal. We only came to try your food, but it seems your staff cannot be trusted to behave professionally! I will go and enjoy some hearty fare at the Swinging Cod, at least the staff there are honourable! Good night, sir!”

  As we got outside, none of them dared to oppose me too strongly, and we made our getaway. Esme giggled all the way back to the Cod. As we arrived outside our soon-to-be-thriving-again tavern, Esme pulled me to a stop and somehow managed to press her entire body against me. I looked down as she looked up, then my eyes drifted further down before snapping back to her face.

  “Thank you, Bob,” she rose onto her tiptoes and planted a lingering kiss on my lips. I did the one thing no man would ever imagine using the shapeshift skill for: I made a part of me smaller, as I couldn’t control the sudden rush of blood to that organ.