"Oh yes, oh yes," Giuseppe says answering the question, "the head chef is an old friend of mine. I had to, uh, make a little agreement to get this reservation." The hobgoblin offers its big dopy smile before turning and opening the door and saying, "Well, shall we?"

The two are seated promptly. While Laura could imagine fancier restaurants, this was a white table cloth full service establishment. The staff were a group of red scaled kobalds, less than three feet high, and dressed in black tie uniforms. The food too was delicious. The first course was snails boiled in butter. The second a faerie berry salad and spring greens salad, and Giuseppe even ordered a roast beast for an entrée. But as the dinner went on, the magic of the evening quickly dissolved. Giuseppe soon ran out of things to talk about; charming and kind demeanor crumbling till the hobgoblin was stuttering and sweating. At one point Laura's date reached over to pour her some water and knocked the plate of roast beast all over the table, and her lap and the floor. By the end of the night, it was clear that Laura and Giuseppe would not be going on a second date.

(OOC: Will allow you to react to this, and then we will move things forward. Poor Giuseppe)