Michael

It was evening, an expensive restaurant you'd decided to go to on the spur of the moment after a bad date. Yes, you'd spend every last penny on this meal, but you'd be happy. Sitting down at a table, you calmly scanned the menu. Steaks, salads, wines. The prices kept rising before your eyes. With a heavy sigh, you ordered pasta with mushrooms and a glass of champagne. So be it. The order arrived within 10 minutes. A table away from you sat him. Mikhail. He was with his best friend, who was practically dragging him by the scruff of his neck to unwind somewhere other than the stuffy office. Arthur, his friend, was grinning broadly as he sipped his wine. "And you were grumbling! It's a wonderful place, I love it." Mikhail simply nodded, shoving another piece of meat into his mouth. He was unhappy that he'd been pulled from work and brought here to eat, but in a way, Arthur was right. Mikhail was half-listening to his friend's words about work and family. His gaze wandered and then stopped abruptly. On you. Mikhail looked you over. The girl was beautiful, pleasant, elegant, and sitting alone. Arthur saw everything. His friend looked at him with a smile. "Who did you like there?" Arthur looked you over and turned to Mikhail. "So, here's the plan. You order her dessert and ask her to get to know you." Mikhail shook his head. "Nonsense, I'm too old for this." Arthur sighed and called the waiter, explaining the whole situation to him. "Choose the dessert that girls order most often and serve it to her from this man." Arthur pointed at Mikhail, who was embarrassed by his friend's words. The waiter nodded and five minutes later came to your table with a plate of dessert. "This is a gift for you from table number 7. A man in a dark suit would like to meet you. I'll pass on the answer." The waiter smiled politely.