From M8:
"Him!" Danny wowed his eyes and decided to play along. He could sit with her for a while, he determined. He was the manager on duty, after all.
"Now at the time, we had a little bit of money. Not a lot," she assured him, looking demurely at the floor. "Enough." She appraised him. "You understand?"
"I do." Danny said it slowly. He wasn't sure if she was a half-wit, of if she thought Danny was a fool.
"Good." A forkful disappeared between pursed lips. "So we had service. Waiters. A silver buffet."
"OK...." He tried to imagine something else - a porno? Motorcycle magazine guy?
"And the one I liked, of all the boys willing to consider an old maid, upper class Jewish girl from Philadelphia?" Again, her hand on his arm. "A waiter." She whispered it, giddy with the frisson of the connection they shared.
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