Upon arriving at the restaurant and being led by the waiter, Martin found Thomas's booth, pulled out a chair and sat down. He saw the table full of lavish dishes and smiled awkwardly, "You're too kind. It's just a meeting about some matters, and you're treating me to a feast."
Thomas had his left hand on the fork and his right clutching the knife, wanting to stab the charming face of the bastard across from him and see if the brain matter inside reeked.
Martin wiped his hands and tied his napkin, picking up his knife and fork, "Thank you for dinner. We can talk over the meal."
Thomas glared at Martin, the knife and fork falling on the steak, he cut with all his might: "What you're talking about had better be true."
All he had left was his career to compensate for the lack of love.
