Michael stopped when he saw a small handwritten card on it.
NO RESERVED RANK. SHARE THE TABLE.
He raised an eyebrow.
Harris emerged from behind the counter carrying two coffees. “Not official policy.”
“Good. Spelling is terrible.”
“That is why I work with food.”
They laughed.
Before Michael could settle in, Daniel approached. He was the operator who had smiled when Blake first dragged the table away. He stood with both hands at his sides, visibly rehearsing something.
“Chief Carter?”
“Michael is fine.”
Daniel shook his head. “Not for this.”
Michael waited.
“I laughed.”
“I remember.”
Daniel winced.
Michael did not rescue him from the discomfort.
“I knew it was wrong,” Daniel continued. “That is worse. I knew it and I looked around to see what everybody else was doing.”
Michael nodded once.
“What do you want me to say?”
“Nothing, sir. I just wanted you to know I am sorry.”
Michael studied him. “Apology accepted. What happens next matters more.”
Daniel took that in.
At the next table, a new sailor entered carrying a tray and looking uncertain about where to sit. Daniel noticed before Michael did.
He moved his bag from the empty chair beside him.
“You can sit here,” he called.
The sailor looked surprised. “You sure?”
Daniel glanced toward Michael.
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m sure.”
Michael said nothing. He did not need to.
Months passed.
