Just for you, this takes place in Olive Garden.

—

There were times when Michiru envied women with no class. A
woman like that might have a little flask in her purse that she snuck a long
drink from in times of hardship. If Michiru were brash enough to carry such a
thing, she’d fill it with wine—good wine, not like what they served here. She’d
drink it now, in the bathroom stall, let the real flavor wash over her tongue
and momentarily forget the atrocities occurring just outside. Haruka would be
none the wiser of her reprieve, and Michiru would be able to give her more
genuine smiles.

But alas, she had none to fortify her, and a flask would
hardly keep the notes of a good wine intact. She exited her stall and settled
for reapplying her lipstick. It was a simple trick; paint on your smile and
your mask is complete.

The door opened, just then, and Michiru found herself privy to
a greater atrocity than the restaurant’s food. For a moment, she didn’t
recognize the woman beneath the thick-framed glasses and jaunty cap, which she
assumed was the point. Her shirt as nicely tailored, but a frilly shade of pink—Usagi’s
doing, most likely—and marred by a large tomato stain beneath the collar—Usagi’s
doing, definitely.

“Ara, Seiya, that’s a good look for you.”

“Shut it.” She removed her fake glasses and dabbed at the
stain with paper towels.

“It’s very sweet that your girlfriend’s marked her
territory.”

Seiya glared, but a grin spread across her mouth. “Oh, you
can joke about how I’m whipped, and be absolutely right, but remember, dear Ms.
Kaioh, a woman of your tastes got yourself dragged here, too.”

“We all must make sacrifices for love from time to time.”
They met eyes in the mirror. “Though I daresay my sacrifice is made with
integrity. I have no need to hide.”

“I hate when fans interrupt a date.”

“If only there were a way to let them know you’re not to be
disturbed.”

Seiya snorted. “We can’t all be as perfectly cold as you.”

“Indeed you can’t.” She turned and fingered the stain. “You
need dish soap to be rid of this.”

“Uh, thank you.” Seiya’s cheeks went light pink. “You know,
sometimes I still wonder if you’re flirting with me.”

Michiru raised an eyebrow. “Oh no, it’s merely that kindness
puts you more off kilter than anything else.”

“You’re bad natured, Michiru.”

“So you’ve said.” She left the bathroom with a smile,
fortified after all. And Haruka’s face later, when Michiru pointed Seiya out,
was far better than a good wine.