Ugo Trattoria on the Third Street Promenade was alive with the hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the mouthwatering aroma of garlic and tomatoes. The warm light spilling from the restaurant's tall windows bathed the tables in a cozy amber glow. Jay led the way inside, her hand lightly brushing Tony's as they stepped up to the hostess stand.
The hostess smiled at them. "Table for two?"
"Yes, please," Jay replied. "Something with a view if you've got it."
Tony couldn't help but smile as they were led to a small table near the window, where the Promenade's lights danced on the street below. He pulled Jay's chair out for her—a move that earned him a raised eyebrow and a smirk.
"Who taught you manners?" she teased as she sat down.
Tony chuckled as he slid into his own seat. "Guess I'm just full of surprises."
As they waited for their menus, Tony began noticing more of the changes Roomie had made to his body. His movements felt effortless, almost like a perfectly oiled machine. His posture was straighter than it had been in years, and he felt lighter on his feet, even while sitting. When he picked up the glass of water in front of him, he noticed the precision in his grip—steady and deliberate.
But it was his senses that truly astounded him. The low hum of conversation from across the room was crisp, as though he were sitting right next to the other diners. The rich scent of basil and simmering marinara sauce filled his nostrils, layered with notes of freshly baked bread and olive oil. The candles on the table flickered, and he could make out the faintest trails of heat they left in the air.
Roomie, Tony thought, you've been busy.
Enhancements are ongoing, Roomie replied, its tone even. Your perception and reflexes have improved. This level of sensory input will soon feel natural.
Tony smirked, taking a sip of water. It already does. I feel... sharp.
Your neural network adapts quickly. Additional physical optimization is available upon request.
Tony chuckled under his breath. Let's not get carried away just yet. I'll settle for impressing Jay tonight.
The waiter approached, delivering menus and taking their drink orders. Jay immediately ordered a glass of Chianti, while Tony stuck with water, claiming he wanted to "pace himself."
"So," Jay began as she scanned the menu, "you're seriously okay? No weird lingering symptoms or anything?"
Tony hesitated, debating how much to share. "Honestly? I feel better than I have in years. Like, I could take on the world."
Jay's lips quirked into a half-smile. "You're lucky I like overconfident idiots."
"Lucky doesn't even begin to cover it," Tony replied, grinning.
They shared stories and laughter as their food arrived—Jay's plate of fettuccine pescatore with clams, shrimp and calamari and Tony's rich tortellini limone. As they ate, Tony marveled at the clarity of flavors. He could taste every individual ingredient—the earthy mushrooms, the creamy Parmesan, the faint tang of white wine in the sauce. It was like experiencing food for the first time.
"You're really savoring that," Jay teased, watching him take another deliberate bite.
Tony chuckled. "What can I say? Italian food hits differently when you've been eating hospital Jello for days."
Jay shook her head, but her smile lingered. For the first time since Tony's collapse, she looked genuinely relaxed.
Just as their plates were being cleared, a commotion broke out near the bar. Tony's heightened hearing picked up a low, tense argument between two men. Their voices were sharp, escalating quickly.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" one man snarled.
"You heard me," the other shot back, his voice tight with suppressed anger.
Tony's eyes flicked to the bar, where one of the men—a wiry guy in his late thirties—was pointing aggressively at another patron. The second man, taller and broader, was holding his hands up in mock surrender, a smirk plastered on his face. Tony's gaze sharpened, his newly enhanced senses zeroing in on the tension in their postures and the sweat glistening on their brows.
"Everything okay?" Jay asked, noticing his distraction.
"Yeah," Tony said quickly. "Just... something going on over there."
The wiry man suddenly lunged forward, grabbing the larger man by the collar. A glass toppled off the bar, shattering loudly, and several diners gasped. The larger man shoved his attacker back, sending him stumbling into a table. Plates and wine glasses crashed to the floor, and the chaos spread as people scrambled to get out of the way.
Tony was on his feet before he even realized it, his reflexes kicking in. Jay grabbed his arm. "Tony, what are you doing? Let the staff handle it!"
Tony glanced back at her, his mind racing. "Just... stay here. I'll be right back."
He moved toward the bar with a speed and precision that surprised even himself. His steps were light, almost silent, as he approached the two men. The wiry one was swinging wildly now, his punches missing by inches. The larger man easily blocked the blows, laughing derisively, but his movements were growing more aggressive.
"Hey!" Tony barked, his voice cutting through the noise like a whip. Both men froze, their eyes snapping to him.
"Mind telling me what's going on here?" Tony asked, his tone calm but firm.
The larger man sneered. "What's it to you?"
Tony crossed his arms, his enhanced posture giving him an imposing presence. "It's a problem for everyone in here if you keep this up. So, how about you both cool it before someone gets hurt?"
The wiry man took a step back, his chest heaving. "He started it. He's been messing with my wife!"
The larger man smirked. "I don't even know your wife, buddy. You're just paranoid."
Tony's enhanced senses kicked in again. He could hear the wiry man's rapid heartbeat, see the tension in his clenched fists. He stepped between them, holding out a hand to each.
"Look," Tony said, keeping his voice steady. "This isn't the place for this. You want to talk it out? Fine. But do it outside, and do it without throwing punches."
For a moment, it seemed like they might argue, but the larger man shrugged and muttered, "Whatever." He turned and left the bar, his steps heavy with irritation.
The wiry man sagged, his anger deflating. "Thanks," he mumbled, avoiding Tony's gaze before slinking away.
Tony exhaled, his body still buzzing with adrenaline. Behind him, a few diners clapped quietly, and the staff scrambled to clean up the mess.
As he returned to the table, Jay was staring at him with a mixture of amazement and exasperation. "What the hell was that?"
Tony shrugged, sliding back into his seat. "Just felt like the right thing to do."
Jay shook her head, but she was smiling. "You're unbelievable."
Tony smirked. "I get that a lot."