• • •

"I can't believe this." Marcos drops his menu on the tablecloth-draped table.

He sits in the middle of an opulent dining room belonging to one of the resort's many restaurants. The carpet is scattered with tables hosting patrons and the walls are embedded with bay windows displaying the lit-up view of the ocean at night, the high ceiling is dotted with suspending, glimmering chandeliers. Soft, Baroque music drifts through the air, mixed with the murmurous chattering of the patrons and clanking of silverware.

"Just my luck, out of all the places we go to, it's a place right by the coast."

Across from him, Barry peers above his own menu with eyes full of concern. "What's wrong with that, Mr. Barbero?"

Marcos takes his frustration out on the menu by thumbing its nearest corner. "I'm not much of an aficionado of seafood or anything else that comes from the ocean."

"Oh, well—" Barry glances back at the menu. "—there is steak. Fourth page."

Marcos holds up his menu again and turns to the correct page. He gazes at its offerings. "Yes, I'll have the steak. I'm certainly not gonna make this trip more miserable by starving here."

"You haven't even been here for twenty-four hours." Barry stares at him from above his menu, troubled.

Marcos peers up from his menu. "Don't remind me."

Barry puts away his look of sympathy for a content smile and flips back to his original page. "I'll be having the salmon with the house sauce—"

"No."

Barry peeks at him from the menu with a subtle expression of shock. "Why not, sir?"

Marcos already has his menu closed and set aside. "Highly discourage it." He interlocks his fingers behind the stack of clean dishes, his bright eyes drilling into his assistant. "Have the steak with me. Or the poultry."

Barry flicks his eyes back to the menu. He frowns before accepting the defeat. "Alright, sir. I'll have the steak with you." He closes the menu and holds a hand out.

Marcos hands his menu to him before gazing out to the other customers to be entertained. However, he realizes that is a bad idea by catching the sight of them devouring all sorts of seafood: prawns' heads popping off, clumps of liquid oozing from lobsters, crab legs cracking open, oysters' meat slurped—

Tensing with a grimace, Marcos mutters, "If I would've known we were planning to film here, I would've fought to relocate the special edition episodes."

"But I don't understand. We are in America's Finest City. Why is it miserable for you?"

Marcos slowly turns back to his assistant, composing himself. "It'll be less miserable if the steak is cooked to perfection."

Barry raises an eyebrow. "Rare?"

Marcos gives a small smile. "Like always."