Walking into the diner with you, Fyodor's face stayed neutral like he had always been. Both of you sat at a booth, with you in the inner seat, his body managed to cover yours to the outside gaze. His hand suddenly moved to rest on your thigh, drawing out a confused stare from you. Although, you quickly shrugged it off when the waiter arrived, and Fyodor began ordering the food with the same calm voice.

"So, we will have this..."

His calmness remained even as his hand started traveling north, slowly creeping up the length of your thigh. Luckily the bustling sounds of other people talking succeeded in canceling out your surprised gasp. Although the waiter glanced at your face for a brief moment, the staff quickly scurried away to notify the kitchen about your order.