An evening rendezvous.

Two hours later, you find yourself standing outside "Pad Thai Pad" - a casual Asian cuisine eatery near the outskirts of town. Although this area isn't known for any sleazy goings-on, it's far away from school enough for private appointments - like the one you're having tonight. You'd called home to say you're having dinner outside, and you might be staying over with a friend. No objections were raised from your parents - anything to get you out of your bedroom where you skulked half your time away.

The lights lining the doorway flicker into life as the last beams of sunlight flash over the horizon, and you push your way through the entrance. It takes you a bit of glancing around, but you eventually recognize Ms. Larson from among the booths, her hair pulled neatly back with a band and her shoulders modestly covered in a pastel blouse. She notes your presence with a demure nod, beckoning you to your seat.

"I've already placed our orders," she mentions. "You're not allergic to peanuts, are you?"

"No," you reply. To the casual observer it might have been just another date, but you feel the terse tension in the air.

"...Right," sighs Ms. Larson, after massaging her knuckles for the third time. "I suppose there's no avoiding the question. I think you know what I'm going to ask of you."