Subway

Mike flung the glass door open of the restaurant, getting in first. Though there was two tables already occupied, the waiting line was... well, non-existent. He made his way to the counter and motioned Brian to follow him.

A very short girl who was probably only fifteen came up to them and said in a very rythmic and used tone "Welcome to Subway, how may I help you?"

She looked at Brian first, and Mike first thought that maybe she did because of the height ressemblance. Then he tried to surpress a giggle as he thought of the phrase "ladies first".

Mike scratched the back of his head, not really looking at her.

"Yeah, yeah I am," he said reluctantly.

The girl seem to snap right out of her daze. "Wow, I went to you're show when you came to New York it was really awesome I really like the song "Basket Case" my friend tried to play it on the guitar but she never quite managed to get the riff down completely I absolutely adore you're music you must know that I've talked about you so much on the Internet Holiday is my theme song on my MySpace profile I..."

A guy popped from the kitchen doors (probably the manager since he was sporting more decent clothes) and stared at the babbling girl. Mike could almost tell that she had implanted some kind of fuel motor in her mouth to keep talking that fast.

To her disapointment, the guy dragged her to the kitchen and then came back at the counter. "I'm sorry for... huh... that," he said. "May I take your order?"

"The... the ham and cheese sandwish in the italian bread, please. A six inch," he said nervously.

He hoped the guy wouldn't notice who he was as well.

Mike paid the meals and they headed toward the table in the corner of the place.

Mike unwrapped his sandwich. "Is it anything new?" he asked as he took a bite out of it.

Mike noticed that Brian's hands were both under the table and that he wasn't eating his sandwich anymore.

"Huh... Brian, what are you doing?"

It took a moment for Mike to process that it was on Billie's shirt that Brian had spilled mustard. When he did, however, Mike jerked forward.

"You what?" he asked, not quite yelling yet. "You know I'll be in a lot of trouble if it shows!"

"Give me the shirt," Mike ordered handing out his hand. He then realized it wasn't quite appropriate for him to take it off here, and he shrugged it off quickly. "Ok, come with me, then."

He grabbed Brian's wrist in a tight grasp and dragged him toward the bathroom.

"It won't jump out of the window, don't worry," Mike said, a bit annoyed.

He pushed the door of the men's bathroom, placing Brian in front of the mirror like a ragdoll.

He took some soap and water, trying to scrub off the stain.

Mike tried to calm down. "Yeah, but when the owner of this shirt will find the stain, he'll ask questions. Believe me, if I was his size I'd I'm the one I borrow it, but I guess I'm just not," he motioned with his hand his height.

He began to wash the stain once again, the yellow dimly becoming paler.

After a few minutes of constant scrubbing and rinsing, the stain was almost invisible. He knew, however, that Billie would find out eventually, but maybe he'd think he'd done it himself without realizing it. Mike couldn't do much more anyway.

"I guess we'll put our hopes that he puts the blame on himself," he declared, resigned. He handed back the shirt at Brian.

Mike smirked at the thought. "Don't count on it," he retorted.

He pushed the heavy door open and got out of the bathroom, leaving it open for Brian to pass with him.

Mike sat on the other chair again, grasping his sandwich and taking another bite out of it.

There was a few minutes where both of them were simply eating their meal, not saying a word. Lost in his thoughts, the bassist wondered if he'd ever get to have another meal like this one with Brian. It was rather ordinary to order food at a Subway restaurant, and maybe it was because he was such a simple guy that he'd miss it that much.

He shook out of his thoughts.

"Is it okay?" he asked vaguely. "I mean, I... I could take you somewhere more... huh... decent tonight, if you want."

Mike thought for a second, thinking over all the places he had crossed during his stay.

"Well, I don't really know the place, but there was this restaurant called "The Millanet French Cuisine" on the 13th or 14th avenue. It seemed fancy enough..." he then double thought his proposition. "Or maybe you don't like French?"