We went to this place where they have really great pastries for prices half that of Darbarbarg. We spent 10 minutes discussing what we would like to eat.
Pr was all 'Thank you, you bugger, but I am not eating that one but this one, no not that-- this one,'
and then another 10 minutes figuring out how much we'd have to pay, which wasn't very difficult, but since the two of us guys who knew moderately advanced maths kept quiet because we were not paying, there was a lot of confusion over how 55 could be multiplied by four and then divided among two people. The advanced mathematical analysis was finally done and we went upstairs.
Where we saw a clock on the wall. It was the wall-clock, quite literally. It was not exactly the usual clock, the numbers were hung on the wall, and there was a central lever system which moved around and pointed around at different numbers at different times so you could tell the time. Pr wanted to touch the clock-- or wall or whatever-- but we said no, if something happens to it they would probably make us pay for the entire damn wall, which looked expensive, specially because it was in an expensive place so she was not allowed to touch the wall.
And then we ate.
Pr had a nice scarf on, and I told her so, and she went all "Omg, I am gonna rip your head off, I swear, give me your pastry, I don't like mine," and looked at me as if I just made her eat really bad momos.
I said, "Okay you may have some, but see I'd told you, and so had that stranger who had suggested me to take this particular one and not the one you're eating, because I had it last time and it was bad,".
So she took a small bite of my pastry, and then said she liked hers better which she may or may not have, and then made a few more life-threatening comments to me.
I was scared, but since she was the sponsor, I was "Nice nice thank you very much, god, s/he who does not exist and has been defined generally as the opium for the masses, which i think is too much but correct nonetheless, bless."
She goes, "Hey I am not the one who believes in that kind of crap, so tell it to Sa," and then makes more threats of deaths and other decapitating acts to me.
I remember the Nepali tradition, and keep quiet, because as they say, your sponsor or funding agency is always--and absolutely always-- correct no matter how much contradicting information you might have.
So we were happy and all yayyayyay, until someone spilled something somewhere, and there was lots of confusion, which made me consider hiding because I was certain I was going to be blamed for it, and then killed, by Pr. Maybe not killed--but you get the idea.
The proprietors have an infant who they take turns to carry in this cutesy pouch-like thing that Kangaroos have.
The manager-- a thirtysomething guy with small mustache-- must have come about four times to check on us, and said "Please do not make so much noise the baby is sleeping."
Each time, we said "Aww so cute baby we are so sorry, we love cute babies, so we wont make noises and thank you so much for telling us, our bad," and the moment he went down, there would be another raucous, which would mainly include me being scolded for disturbing the cute and adorable baby and being told to shut the hell up, by Pr.
And oh, you gotta stop making weird faces when the baby is around. Thank you.
The couple looked really relieved when we left four hours later.