Mano was surprised to hear Nakatsura's request. Too long staring at the customer's eyes was not a polite thing. After all, it would cause inconvenience. But it seemed Nakatsura already had a plan related to that. It was possible that Nakatsura just wanted to make Tsukamoto felt uncomfortable, so maybe she would left the room.
The two of them then walked back into the main dining room. Mano and Nakatsura already got a menu list and a notebook in their hand to record customer's orders.
Near the table occupied by the three new arrivals was another table occupied by a family. Mano, of course, did not know for sure whether or not they were family. It's just that they seem like a family. There were eight people at the table. Two elderly people, three adults, one teenager, and two small children. The first child was a boy who was about five or six years old. The second child was a girl who was about three or four years old. The two little ones were very energetic. Right now, they were running around the table their family occupied. Mano smiled, seeing their behavior. Their joy reminded him of his childhood.
Mano and Nakatsura walked over to the table occupied by the woman and the two men who came with her. They weren't the only ones on the table. Previously five other people had already sat there. Mano suspected they were members of Yabuta Matane's entourage for a mayoral candidate.
"Sorry, what do you three want to drink?" Mano asked kindly to the three people. She did not know whether the attitude and words she used were polite enough in front of the guests. Ten years ago, she had helped her aunt. But it's a small restaurant in a not-so-big city. The standard of service in Shinkankyo certainly could not be equated with the standards that apply in small food stalls outside the city.
"Ah, there were already server who took our orders," said one of the two men. He was a man in his mid-thirties. Mano could see he had very light-skinned, slanted eyes, and a rectangular face.
Mano nodded. Apparently, when they were in the briefing room, there was already a maid who came here.
"Sorry," said Mano, still smiling kindly. "Then is there anything you would like to add?"
"Not yet," said the other man. He was a young man in his late twenties. "When we think of something, we'll call." The woman in the hat didn't say a word.
"Ah, I want to order again this one," suddenly one of the five people who came first said to Mano. He was pointing at his almost empty glass.
"Okay, sir, we will deliver it immediately."
Mano was surprised to hear Nakatsura's request. Too long staring at the customer's eyes was not a polite thing. After all, it would cause inconvenience. But it seemed Nakatsura already had a plan related to that. It was possible that Nakatsura just wanted to make Tsukamoto felt uncomfortable, so maybe she would left the room.
The two of them then walked back into the main dining room. Mano and Nakatsura already got a menu list and a notebook in their hand to record customer's orders.
Near the table occupied by the three new arrivals was another table occupied by a family. Mano, of course, did not know for sure whether or not they were family. It's just that they seem like a family. There were eight people at the table. Two elderly people, three adults, one teenager, and two small children. The first child was a boy who was about five or six years old. The second child was a girl who was about three or four years old. The two little ones were very energetic. Right now, they were running around the table their family occupied. Mano smiled, seeing their behavior. Their joy reminded him of his childhood.
Mano and Nakatsura walked over to the table occupied by the woman and the two men who came with her. They weren't the only ones on the table. Previously five other people had already sat there. Mano suspected they were members of Yabuta Matane's entourage for a mayoral candidate.
"Sorry, what do you three want to drink?" Mano asked kindly to the three people. She did not know whether the attitude and words she used were polite enough in front of the guests. Ten years ago, she had helped her aunt. But it's a small restaurant in a not-so-big city. The standard of service in Shinkankyo certainly could not be equated with the standards that apply in small food stalls outside the city.
"Ah, there were already server who took our orders," said one of the two men. He was a man in his mid-thirties. Mano could see he had very light-skinned, slanted eyes, and a rectangular face.
Mano nodded. Apparently, when they were in the briefing room, there was already a maid who came here.
"Sorry," said Mano, still smiling kindly. "Then is there anything you would like to add?"
"Not yet," said the other man. He was a young man in his late twenties. "When we think of something, we'll call." The woman in the hat didn't say a word.
"Ah, I want to order again this one," suddenly one of the five people who came first said to Mano. He was pointing at his almost empty glass.
"Okay, sir, we will deliver it immediately."
