Toby hadn't been in a lot of cars since Frye Island, and then they were rental cars when they went on trips, or on a rare occasion, taxis. He was pleasantly surprised that she didn't drive like a taxi driver. At least, he hadn't been clinging to the door handle for dearlife. "Nope, not bad." He agreed.
Toby led the way into the restaurant and got them a booth. It was just a small, hole in the wall diner, but it was clean, bright and smelled delicious. It had a little it of kitchy Nnostalgiafor a time almost one hundred years past, but it was one of Toby's favorites. They were given menus, and the waiter politely left thrm alone to contemplate drinks and food. "So, what looks good?"