Certainly this was among the most extraordinary things of the many about Elektra, and even in Tony's line of work dying and coming back was never a boring story. Still, he had to admit, "No," with a chuckle, "but it will sure make for interesting dinner conversation."
Inside, the restaurant was just as restrained and weather-worn as it was outside, though with such fine detail that none of it could possibly have been unanticipated. It wasn't quite minimalism, but it was sparse; tight patterns and natural colours, everything textured by wind or salt. Like any good restaurant perched out alone on a cliff should look. They were led to a terrace and left with menus and water and expectant tension.
Wherever that tension was for Tony, it didn't show in his smile while he ignored his menu and chose instead to study her, relaxed in his seat with one arm slung over the back of it. "I know your opinion of me must not be very high so I'm almost afraid to ask," he started, and his eyes dropped to watch his hand drop to the table with determination. "But why do you think we're here in this very fine establishment?"