Anon and Faith stepped into a restaurant named 'Good Cuisine.'
Ting The bell at the entrance chimed as they opened the door.
"I'm sorry, folks, but we're closed for toda- Ohh... White Elves," said the gentleman behind the counter, a 60-year-old Dark Elf with white hair who remarkably looked young. In elven years, this guy is what you call a teenager.
"Oh, are you closed?" Faith inquired, her eyes on the Dark Elf.
"N-No, ma'am. Please have a seat," he stammered and quickly ushered Anon and Faith to two chairs.
'Wow... She's so cute,' he thought as he looked at Faith.
"Thank you," Faith acknowledged as she took her seat.
"Here are your menus, Sir and Madam. Please order anything you'd like. We have everything available," the manager said, handing menus to Anon and Faith.
"Why all the fuss at this late hour, Jim?" A Dark Elf lady emerged from the kitchen, looking groggy.
"Mom, there are some customers-" Jim began.
