The restaurant was exactly as Garaham had described. White tablecloths but an affordable Italian menu. All in all, a good place where to leave some money admiring the wonderful skyline one can gaze into the big terrace. His interior was tasteful, bright and inviting. At the entrance there was a liveried waiter, smiling behind the reception to every guest entering the restaurant's hall.

«Well well. For once a good place to investigate.» Chico nodded «I move we sit down and carefully scout the place.»

They put on their best expressions and walked towards the waiter, who scanned them with his efficient sight. They did look like tourists, and he darted them his best professional smile.

«Good day, sirs and madam, and welcome to Peppino's! Would you like a table?»

«Good day to you, and yes, please.» smiled Chico, trying to look like your average Mexican tourist.

The waiter led them towards a table near a window. The inner room was big and bright, and more than half the tables were already occupied by couples, families with children and some lonely man in suit, wolfing through their meal while rabidly checking something on their tablets and exchanging urgent, whispered remarks.

The waiter sat them, and then left them the menus, discreetly disappearing.

«So, who's paying for this meal?» asked Banshee, reading the menu.

Vopros didn't even look over it. He put a hand on the table, closed his eyes and took some deep breaths, opening his sensations to the chaos of fluxes shining and twirling around them. With a small whooshing sound, after some seconds, under his hand, as if it had always been there, a black wallet appeared. He opened his eyes. Then he tossed it to Banshee.

«Mr. Gonzales does.» he said, simply. Banshee opened the wallet. The photo on the ID was unmistakably from one of the businessmen at the busy table at the end of the room. There were four credit cards and a stash of cash clipped with a silver money clip who was probably worth more than their Simca 1000. Banshee shrugged and tossed the wallet back to Vopros, who pocketed it with natural gestures.

«All right, so, all aboard with the plan? Chico, ye ready?»

«Yo no compriendo why it has to be me who has to go there. The waiter is a man, can't you pretend to be a woman and charm him?» grunted Chico towards Banshee, the usual source of the cunning plan they were acting upon.

«You can be so sexist, sometimes! What if he's gay, huh?»

«Even better! You wouldn't even have to fake to be a woman, your usual camionera charm would be perfect!»

Massaging the shoulder heavily indentured by Banshee's punch, Chico tried to paint his best smile on his face and signaled the waiter to come to their table. The tall boy, he couldn't have been older than 20 years old, skid towards them with the elegance of an elf, smiling all the way, his pen and paper ready to take their order.

«Yes, have the sirs and madam decided?» he asked.

«We're still browsing...» began Chico. «Listen... what's your name, boy?»

«Armando, sir.» smiled the boy.

«Armando. Very well, Armando, listen here. Mis amigos y yo have gotten to Boston some days ago, and we have seen that video of someone falling from this ...»

Suddenly, Armando's smiles flickered and almost disappeared. He looked around him, as if he was scared someone could hear them talk, and lowered his voice, perceptibly.

«I'm sorry sir, but that was just a video prank made by someone with a video-editing software. Nothing of the sort ever happened here. Can you imagine something that impossible happening?» he said, trying to sound convincing.

Sadly for him, he was trying to bullshit the bullshitters, and everything, from his voice to his posture, spoke volumes about how good he had learned that particular sentence by heart, probably under his director's orders.

«So... it was all a prank.» Chico tried to sound disappointed.

«Sorry to disappoint.» Armando smiled again, apologetically.

Vopros rose a hand and beckoned him to come closer. Thinking he had some questions on the menu, Armando went around the table and slightly bent towards him.

Vopros slid a hundred-dollar bill in front of him, keeping it under his hand, with the accustomed discretion of a rich man tipping someone. Banshee could see Armando's eyes widen.

«You sure it never happen, da?» said the Russian under his breath. «Because fall never happen, dollars don't happen.»

Armando was so young they all could clearly see all the stages pass on his face. At first, panic. Then, temptation. A hundred dollars weren't peanuts. They weren't even for the Pollos, to be fair. Then again, panic: what if his manager discovered it and he was fired? A hundred dollars weren't worth the risk. Then again, who would have known?

«All right, it happened.» he blurted. Vopros left the dollars on the table, and the boy grabbed them as swiftly as he could. «It was crazy. The man at table twenty went to the balcony to see the sight I think, and then he slipped, and everyone screamed... and then, puff, he was up here again. We didn't even understand what had happened until we saw that video.» he whispered with an excited voice.

«But why doesn't your manager want people to know? It looks like a good advertisement,» asked Chico.

«Because he's scared the man could try to sue us somehow. Plus, the weirdos. Not you, obviously, but some women came in flashing badges and throwing around strange special police forces names after the fact, and the director didn't like that. We're a fine establishment, not a freakshow.»

«And the people who witnessed everything?»

«Oh, they were mainly tourists, and there were just two or three who actually saw something, most of them just screamed around without understanding. It was quite chaotic, believe me.» Armando looked around him again. «But please, can I get your order, now?»

«Yeah, last question, who was the man who fell down?» whispered Chico.

«Oh, I can't tell you this, I'm sorry.»

«Didn't he reserve the table?»

«He's a regular, and we have a very strict privacy policy on our clients, especially esteemed ones. Please, don't ask again?» the poor boy, now, looked positively terrified. «I need this job, I'm sorry...»

«Don't worry kid. Just keep on.» Banshee cut down the conversation, they ordered some pasta dishes from the menu and left a quite relieved Armando go back about his business.

«So, nothing.» Vopros scoffed. Behind them, Mr. Gonzales was frantically searching for his wallet everywhere on his person. None of them felt guilty at all.

«We have to check the restaurant's PC.» Banshee said.

«Y Como demonios piensas we could get into that?»

«We just need to access it for some minutes. If he's a regular he'll always reserve the same table, so...» Banshee explained.

«Oh no... I smell another plan astuto.» Chico whined.

«One o' us could sneak in the back, force open a locker, dress up like a waiter, then...» Banshee started planning.

«Too convoluted. Also, there are four waiters. They sure know each other well. They notice.» remarked Vopros, shaking his head.

«Then, we need a distraction.» she nodded, tapping on the table with her left hand, her eyes fixed out of the window. «A pie!» she snapped her fingers. «I'll literally make a giant pie appear in the sky. And then Vopros'll scream: "A pie! A pie in the sky!" and everyone'll look, because it's simply too obvious to be a prank, and as the first ones start to see there actually is a pie in the sky, everyone would flock to this side o' the room to see it. Meanwhile, Chico'll go and check the reservation term and then...»

«... and then I will fall on you with the strength of a thousand rocks and crush you before you expose magic to an entire restaurant!» hissed a voice.

***************
Leaving you on this brief cliffhanger, a fun note you can skip if you want, but it's from the history of this novel.

When we played the scene from this chapter as a roleplay group, our GM (the narrator who has the complete story in mind whereas us players try to follow it as characters would do) hadn't prepared a name for the restaurant, so he asked us to find one.
One of us (I, to be fair) immediately jumped at the request and yelled "PEPPINO'S". The other two immediately followed my lead and heartily voted for that name, so it was that, with no chances to turn back.

Now, you'll be surprised to know that "Peppino" is the nickname you give a person whose real name is "Giuseppe" (Joseph) and it's quite a silly and ridiculous diminutive (like "Little Joseph") and you kinda immediately laugh when you hear that name. Problem is: the GM was all set on making this scene, and the setting altogether, serious and a tad dark, and "Peppino's" quite ruined the whole mood of the evening - leading to the ensuing scene as you are reading it.

So, if any of you is a tabletop roleplayer, be advised: never let your players choose a name for anything.
Our GM never let us after that, ever.

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