Just before seven o'clock Allistar Ethan Hackett can be found running around his house like a madman, pants half down and shirt still unbuttoned, still damp from the shower. His hair's a mess, still, and he knows he's got to be to the Nexus in short order
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"Allistar! Hi!" She pauses, then gestures at her head in a 'did you forget to brush?' sort of way.
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"Chicken ca-what now?" She's not even going to bother trying to pronounce 'cacciatore'. "I'm not familiar with the dish. What is it?"
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He chuckles a little. "It's Italian. Catch-i-tori." Smiling, he continues, "Baaaasically it's seasoned chicken over sauce. I'm over simplifying but yeah. It's got garlic and tomatoes and stuff." And here we come to why Allistar eats out a lot. He will never be on Hell's Kitchen. Ever.
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"Oh. It, uhhh, sounds good. Cacciatore." Shel can make a really good pie, but has considerably less experience with meats.
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Looking at her from between a couple of fingers, he might just be smiling. Awkwardly, but smiling nonetheless. "It's really good."
So when the waiter comes by, that's what Allistar orders, along with "good red wine" which. Who knows what it will be. Allistar doesn't know how to order wine so he hopes it doesn't taste god awful.
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