The threesome strolled into the dim recesses of the New York Gothic Italian Brownstone Shrine of Our Lady Fellowship Hall. The happy, busy hum of chit chat and noodle twirling blended with the smells of Ragu and garlic bread. Bernard found a tiny table unoccupied and drug three chairs up to it. Rolf pulled a sheet from the roll of paper towels between the salt and pepper shakers and wiped a spot of sauce from Maxine's chair seat.
Maxine gave a nervous giggle. "Thanks, Hon," she simpered.
From the other side, Bernard patted her hand with his plump paw.
"Signorina," he said in a fake Italian accent. "Letta me bringa you fooda."
Rolf puffed his chest out and gave Bernard a dangerous look.
"I'll get the little lady her food!" He gave one fond glance to her and then narrowed his eyes at Bernard.
Maxine quivered in delight. Men were fighting over her!
"I'm not interested in an affray!" Bernard reassured. "By all means, you may collect the victuals. And in doing so, if you don't mind, bring mine too."
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