"And you don't take no for an answer. Or even allow the option by, y'know, asking," Zach pointed out. "But since an obscenely large steak sounds brilliant to me, I'm not going to argue with you."
As they walked in, he looked about discreetly. Muggle. He didn't mind it; he had Muggle grandparents, a Muggle aunt, Muggle cousins. He'd not stayed as much in touch with them as he might've liked, after his dad passed, but he wasn't as uncomfortable around Muggles as his grandfather would have liked.
Once a beer was in his hand, Zach relaxed another degree. "Monica? That the last one that came around prying? Under false pretenses, I might add. Yeah, I don't take too kindly to someone trying to trick me into talking about one of the harder periods in my life. Good thing you're not doing that, right?"
He ran his eyes over the menu, quickly deciding what he wanted. When the waiter came by, he ordered, rattling off a list including the calimari and salmon appetizers, followed by the Tomahawk rib eye, a cut of meat that promised to be a whopping thirty two ounces.
"That's for me," he said, not making eye contact with Brown. "The lady will order for herself."
To Brown, he muttered, "I'll pick up the check."
Once the waiter had hurried off to put in their orders, he looked at her again. "Do you frequent Muggle establishments a lot?"