"I can do it," she said, and did.
Dimitri sat. Sera sat across from him. Takoda installed herself between them at the corner, which had not been set for occupancy, and looked expectantly at the nearest staff member until a place setting materialized in front of her.
She examined the cutlery with professional interest.
"There are a lot of forks," she observed.
"There are," Dimitri agreed. "Do you know why?"
Takoda looked at them. "No."
"Different courses. Different forks."
She picked up the outermost one and turned it in the light. "That seems like a lot of washing up."
Dimitri's mouth twitched. "It does rather, doesn't it?"
Sera unfolded her napkin and watched them, this man who had run a pack for decades, who had negotiated treaties and commanded warriors and faced down enemies without flinching, now patiently explaining cutlery etiquette to a three-year-old who was holding a fork up to the chandelier to examine its reflection.
