Papa, that isn't nearly as fun. For a second, Ami pouts playfully, as if she might argue; but it's so ingrained that even now, of course she doesn't, not with her father.

"Go ahead!" she says, brightly enough, and suddenly there's a book in her hand out of nowhere, as if to say see, we could have done it so much quicker my way and now it will take much longer while some helpless waiter loses the reservation anyway. Cynical of her. She opens to a bookmark.