Anyways Stan ordered widely; a spread of small plates from several different traditions rather than a single meal, on the theory that letting Camilla graze across the map would produce more information for her than a single deep dive into any one cuisine. Sashimi. A small tasting of dim sum. A cured meat and cheese board. A shellfish preparation the restaurant was known for. A pasta. A small piece of dry-aged steak. A trio of desserts to close.
The waiter took the order with the practiced neutrality of a man who had long ago stopped being surprised by anything a guest wanted to spend money on.
The food arrived in slow, elegant waves.
Camilla ate.
She did not exclaim. She did not gasp. She did not perform the small theatrical reactions of a person who had never encountered good food before. Her face remained, for the most part, its usual composed and unhurried Royal Blood mask.
But she tried everything.
