My mother, aunt, and I had a lovely dinner at a restaurant one of the nights we were in New York. The only even slight issue was that there was a fly or two around, but really, the whole thing was lovely: surroundings, ambiance, food.
When we ordered dessert, I decided to get a cup of coffee, something I don't always bother with. It came, and I doctored it up (I like a little coffee with my cream and sugar). Just as I finished, I felt a tickle at the side of my neck, and reached up a hand to bat at it without thinking.
Or aiming, but, well.
Two points, right? He swam around for quite some time--until they brought me a new cup and took this one away, at least.
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