"Probably, yeah," Dylan allows, scooting back out of the booth. He figures he'll get up and go back out to the lobby, to make his calls, so he's not trying to shout over her, the waitstaff, and the rest of the people here just eating dinner. Plus, without him hanging around, their waiter might actually come around in the first place.

"Beyond Burger, side of fries, bottle of root beer," he asks, almost apologetically.