sometimes, when sam was finished with his shift, he’d take off his chef uniform and come out of the kitchen to see what some of the customers thought of his food. maybe it was nerves or maybe it was just because the reassurance kind of make him feel good. either way, that’s what caused him to plop down next to the girl seated at a table by herself. “i don’t normally join strangers,” he started, his fingers fumbling. he was always a little awkward but he was trying his best to break out of his shell, it didn’t always work. “but before i decide to sit down and order something on my own, i was just wondering what you thought about the food. is it any good or should i hit the road?” maybe this was stupid of him, to ask people in this sideways way if they liked his food but he didn’t want them to rip him one if they hated it. “i figure i could use an opinion from a,” he paused, he could flirt, right? “from a pretty girl such as yourself.” he words came out soft but he was trying. that was what counted, right?