"Now look down there, doll. See it?"
"I don't, no."
He tried to squint out the lights of the city, narrowing his tunnel of vision, hopefully, on Sardi's.
"You can't miss it-- it's got a huge awning-- maroon-- says 'Sardi's'. There's gonna be a line outside."
She was used to being his eyes when his glasses and outfit didn't go together.
"I thought you said you'd been before..." she wondered aloud.
"Yeah, once, a few years back. Look, Johnny said he'd step outside and look for us at 6:30-- we're late."
"You're sure it's on 7th? Should I ask someone?"
"Yes, I'm sure. And no, anyone that would know where it is would already be there." He furrowed his brow, squinting his eyes tighter, as if trying harder at something ineffectual might bear results.
"How do you think we'll fit in?"
"We won't if we don't find the damn place."
A mere 10 feet had been traversed in the past five minutes-- a painfully slow tread that closely resembles the pace of this narrative.
"I'll just ask somebody," she decided, aloud. "Excuse me, sir!"
He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her back. "We're not asking anybody for directions, got it?"
"But Rupert, it feels like we're not going anywhere. We're going to miss dinner!"
"You know what feels like it isn't going anywhere? Us. We're done, bitch. Get fucked."
He didn't even look back once.
