Chapter 58 – Tactical Assessment of the Olive Garden

The restaurant was completely empty.

I stood in the doorway, checking the address on my phone for the third time. This was definitely the right place. Castellano’s. Four stars. Reservations required three weeks in advance according to the reviews.

But there wasn’t a single customer inside.

Just empty tables with white tablecloths and flickering candles. Soft classical music played from invisible speakers. The lighting was dim, romantic almost.

Security protocols. That had to be it.

Director Esdeath probably rented out the entire restaurant for operational security. Made sense. Whatever evaluation she had planned must involve classified information.

A waiter appeared from the kitchen. He looked terrified. His hands shook as he gestured toward a table in the back corner.

“Your. Your party is waiting, sir.”

His voice cracked on the last word.

Poor guy was probably intimidated by having military brass in his restaurant. Esdeath had that effect on people.

I walked through the empty dining room, my footsteps echoing on the hardwood floor. The table in the corner had two place settings. Candles. A bottle of wine already opened.

Esdeath sat facing the entrance.

My brain stuttered.

She wore a yellow sundress with flowers on it. Her white hair was braided over one shoulder. She had makeup on, subtle but definitely there. Her lips were pink instead of their usual pale color.

She looked stunning.

(This must be an undercover operation. She’s in disguise. That’s the only explanation for why the Director would be in civilian clothes.)

“Evans. You’re on time.”

Her voice was clipped. Professional. But her eyes tracked my movement as I approached the table.

“Yes ma’am. Wouldn’t want to be marked for insubordination.”

I pulled out the chair and sat down. The cushion was soft. Too soft. This was definitely a fancy place.

Esdeath stared at me.

Just. Stared.

Her blue eyes bored into mine with an intensity that made my survival instincts scream. I’d seen that look before during performance reviews that ended badly.

I was about to get fired. That had to be it. She brought me to a nice restaurant to soften the blow before destroying my career.

“So. What’s this evaluation about, Director?”

She blinked. Her hand tightened around her wine glass.

“I. We are assessing your. Interpersonal capabilities.”

“My interpersonal capabilities.”

“Affirmative.”

The waiter materialized next to our table like a nervous ghost. He held menus in trembling hands.

“C-can I start you with drinks?”

I was about to order coffee when Esdeath spoke.

“He will have the house red. I have already selected.”

The waiter nodded so hard I thought his head might fall off. He practically ran back to the kitchen.

I looked at the wine glass in front of me. It was already full. Deep red liquid that probably cost more than my car payment.

“I don’t usually drink on duty, ma’am.”

“You are off duty for the duration of this evaluation.”

(Off duty. Right. Because this is some kind of test about handling social situations. Maybe she wants to see if I can network with potential donors or politicians.)

The waiter returned with a basket of breadsticks. He set them down and fled before either of us could speak.

Esdeath picked up a breadstick. She held it with both hands, staring at it like it was a foreign object.

Then she held it out toward me.

“You should. Consume carbohydrates.”

I stared at the breadstick. Then at her. Then back at the breadstick.

Was this a test? Was I supposed to refuse? Accept? Was there a correct answer?

“I can serve myself, Director.”

“I am. Offering.”

She pushed the breadstick closer to my face. Her hand was shaking slightly.

(This is weird. This is definitely weird. Maybe it’s poisoned? No that’s paranoid. Maybe it’s a test of trust? Or reflexes?)

I leaned back instinctively.

The breadstick hung in the air between us. Esdeath’s expression shifted through several emotions I couldn’t identify.

Finally she set it down on my plate with more force than necessary.

“Apologies. I was being. Helpful.”

“It’s fine, ma’am. I appreciate the gesture.”

I picked up the breadstick and took a bite. It was warm. Buttery. Actually really good.

Esdeath watched me chew like I was performing surgery.

The silence stretched out. Uncomfortable. Heavy.

I swallowed.

“So. What specific interpersonal skills are we evaluating tonight?”

“Do you enjoy. Sustenance?”

I blinked.

“Do I. Enjoy food?”

“Affirmative.”

What kind of question was that? Did anyone not enjoy food?

“Yes, Director. The caloric intake is efficient.”

Something flickered across her face. Disappointment maybe? But it was gone before I could identify it.

“I see.”

More silence.

This was the most awkward evaluation I’d ever experienced. Usually Esdeath was direct and precise. She told you what you did wrong and how to fix it. This weird dinner small talk wasn’t her style at all.

The waiter returned. Still trembling. He took our orders with his eyes down, avoiding Esdeath’s gaze.

I ordered chicken parmesan. Safe choice. Hard to mess up.

Esdeath ordered some kind of pasta with a name I couldn’t pronounce. Her voice was steady but frost formed on the edge of the table where her hand rested.

The waiter scurried away.

“Director, are you feeling alright?”

She looked at me sharply.

“Why do you ask?”

“You seem. Tense. More than usual.”

(Which is saying something because she’s always tense. But tonight it’s different. Like she’s wound so tight she might snap.)

“I am operating within normal parameters.”

The table disagreed. Ice crystals spread from where her hand touched the wood. The temperature in our corner of the restaurant dropped noticeably.

I should probably be worried about that. But I’d spent so much time around cosmic entities that a little environmental ice barely registered.

“If you say so, ma’am.”

Our food arrived. The waiter practically threw the plates on the table and ran. I didn’t blame him.

The chicken looked amazing. Breaded perfectly. Cheese melted on top. Marinara sauce that smelled like heaven.

I picked up my fork and knife. Started cutting into the chicken.

Esdeath hadn’t touched her food. She just stared at me.

“Are you not eating, Director?”

“I am. Observing.”

“Observing me eat?”

“It is part of the evaluation.”

(How is watching me eat part of an evaluation? Unless this is about table manners? Did I mess something up already?)

I tried to eat more carefully. Smaller bites. Proper posture. Everything my mom taught me about dining etiquette.

Esdeath’s gaze tracked every movement. She leaned forward slightly. Her lips parted.

Then she seemed to catch herself. She looked down at her own plate and picked up her fork with mechanical precision.

We ate in silence.

Well. I ate. Esdeath moved food around her plate without actually consuming much. Her attention kept drifting back to me.

I was definitely getting fired. This was the most elaborate termination dinner in history.

“Evans.”

“Yes, Director?”

“Do you. Find this establishment adequate?”

I looked around at the empty restaurant. The fancy decor. The candles. The classical music.

“It’s very nice. Definitely above my usual budget.”

“Your usual budget.”

“Yeah. I’m more of a takeout pizza guy. Or the cafeteria at work.”

Her expression did something complicated.

“I see. You do not enjoy. Fine dining.”

“It’s not that I don’t enjoy it. I just can’t usually afford it. On a warden’s salary, you know.”

I meant it as a joke. A light comment about government pay scales.

Esdeath’s hand clenched around her fork. The metal bent slightly.

“Your compensation is inadequate.”

“It’s fine, ma’am. I make it work.”

“It is not fine.”

The temperature dropped another five degrees. My breath came out in a visible puff.

“Director, respectfully, the ice thing is happening again.”

She looked down at the table. Frost covered the entire surface now. Her wine glass was frozen solid.

“Apologies.”

She closed her eyes. Took a slow breath. The frost receded slightly but didn’t disappear entirely.

This was painful to watch. Whatever was stressing her out, it was clearly taking a toll.

“Is everything okay with the facility? Are the entities acting up again?”

“The entities are contained.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

She looked at me. Really looked at me. Her blue eyes were intense and vulnerable at the same time.

“Nothing is wrong, Evans. I simply wished to. Assess your performance in a non-combat setting.”

“Right. The evaluation.”

“Yes. The evaluation.”

The waiter appeared with the check. He set it on the table and backed away like we might bite him.

Esdeath reached for her purse. She pulled out a credit card and set it on top of the bill.

“This meal is compensated by my personal funds.”

“You’re paying? Director, I can split it—”

“Negative. This evaluation was my directive. Therefore I am financially responsible.”

(Okay. That’s actually really nice of her. Weird, but nice.)

The waiter took the card and disappeared. He returned a minute later with the credit card machine.

Esdeath looked up at him. Then her gaze shifted back to me.

I’d been drinking water. A drop of it clung to my lower lip. I wiped it away with my napkin.

Esdeath’s hand touched the credit card machine.

It froze solid. Completely encased in ice. The screen went dark.

The waiter made a small squeaking noise.

“I. I’ll get another machine.”

He fled with the frozen device.

Esdeath stared at her hand like it had betrayed her.

“Director, you’ve been working too hard.”

She looked at me.

“You are under significant stress. The facility is demanding. I get it. Maybe you should take some time off.”

Something flickered in her expression. Hurt maybe? Or frustration?

“You believe I require. Rest.”

“Yeah. You’re freezing things without meaning to. That’s usually a sign of burnout.”

(Poor boss. She carries so much responsibility. No wonder she’s stressed.)

The waiter returned with a new machine. This time Esdeath kept her hands in her lap while he processed the payment.

We left the restaurant in awkward silence.

The parking lot was dark. My car sat under a streetlight. Her black sedan was parked next to it.

“Thank you for dinner, Director. I appreciate the evaluation.”

Esdeath stood three feet away. Her sundress moved slightly in the night breeze. The yellow fabric caught the streetlight.

“Evans.”

“Yes ma’am?”

“Did you. Enjoy yourself?”

I thought about the question. The weird silences. The staring. The frozen credit card machine.

It had been the strangest evaluation of my career.

But also kind of nice. The food was good. The company was. Different. But not bad.

“Yeah. I did actually.”

Her face transformed. A smile spread across her features. Genuine. Warm. Beautiful.

Then she seemed to catch herself. The smile disappeared behind military professionalism.

“Good. That is. Satisfactory.”

“Have a good night, Director.”

“Goodnight, Evans.”

I got in my car and drove away.

In the rearview mirror I saw her standing in the parking lot. Still smiling. Still watching me leave.

My phone buzzed. A text from Martinez.

“How’d the dinner go? You still employed?”

I typed back.

“Yeah. Still employed. I think. Honestly not sure what just happened.”

I drove home completely oblivious to the fact that I’d just survived my first date with Director Esdeath.​