They dined on heaping platters of Szechuan chicken, of spicy beef, of shrimp and vegetables in some exotic dish without a name. Bits of food were passed from chopsticks to chopsticks, violating all known laws of Chinese cuisine etiquette. The tea flowed hot and fast that night, until the meal finally concluded itself.
"Thank you for dining here tonight," said the badgeless, anonymous waitress. She placed a small tray containing the check and two wrapped fortune cookies on the edge of the table, and hefted the empty plates one by one, forming a stack on the crook of her elbow.
"Absolutely delicious," declared Oliver as he pulled a card from his wallet and flicked it onto the bill. He picked up the two cookies, an afterthought. "Fortune cookie, my love?" he asked Amanda.