"Hey, don't knock them. All those preservatives probably will keep me fresh looking years after death," he said with a smirk, before shaking his head at the menu, "The special it is," he said with resignation, setting the menu down just as their waiter came to fill their glasses with water and ask for their drink orders. He ordered 'whatever beer is on tap', and then smiled sheepishly at Mary, who'd been looking at him questioningly since he sat down and took a cursory glance at the door. "What?" he asked, darting his eyes.