Remembering the difference in their wardrobe at the Homecoming dance, Cally hadn't overdressed - at least in comparison - this time. She had spared a fleeting thought for the positive response to the length of her skirt at said dance before deciding that she'd like them to actually be able to converse at dinner, which unless you were Blackagar required the ability to speak, and... yes. Pretty top and trousers it was. (One of her better-fitted pairs of trousers, though? Perhaps.)

Dolf was already there when she arrived; she hoped he hadn't been waiting for long. "Hello! Sorry, I got tied up at the Club Fair."

"It doesn't look like there are pirates or smugglers hanging about," Cally said, eying the building with mock-seriousness. "I think it's safe."

There were several immediate responses to that in Cally's head as she paused beside the doorway. She went with the simplest. "...Why?"

"Did anyone not question?"

That startled a laugh out of Cally. "Perhaps he secretly just wanted to know who had the nicest legs."

"He sounds interesting at least. My teachers this term are ... well, not boring, but not nearly so colourful as that. Though the ones for the science of sexuality class are funny. Possibly not intentionally so."

"Well, they don't seem to be aware that they're a married couple." Cally shrugged her jacket off and hung it over the chair back before sitting down. "That part's fairly amusing."

"They're not really. I think? Perhaps they are; they do live together, but they don't have the same family name." Cally shrugged. "I meant more that they act like one, though. Grumbling at each other such; they've clearly known each other forever."

"Surely a valuable lesson by itself." Cally tried not to laugh. Really, she did. "And now I know that as well, so I suppose I'll have to cross it off my list of Things To Do To Dolf."

"He can't send you off to prison for refusing to wear a dress!"

Someone had never had the school sort of detention explained to her.

"Or do they just send people off to the Trooper station? Either way, that's ridiculous."

Cally hadn't!

"What's detention, then? It sounds like dragging someone away to jail."

"Oh." She would just be hiding behind the menu now. "It did seem a little extreme for hitting someone with a fish."

Well, it worked; Cally laughed, though she didn't put down the menu, since now she was actually looking at it. "I don't know what I'll be eating today. I'm not sure I'll know what it is even after I order it, in fact."

"Well, I'm fond of the number twenty-seven, but I'm not sure I want something called Yum Squid."

That...was probably not exactly what he meant. She even knew that.

"Chicken with green curry, perhaps? It's hard to go wrong with chicken, right?"

"...They don't bring live chickens to the table, do they?"

"Well, one never knows." Sadly, she had not grown up in a culture where sticking out one's tongue was a useful nonverbal effect; she settled for a delicate, ladylike snort at him. "I wouldn't want to insult the chef."