It was 1957, and you were an ex-WWII general for the British Army. You actually fairly liked the war, and met lots of friends. Sure, at the cost of lots of deaths, but still. Now, you were just kicking back in a gentlemen's club, along with some other nobodies. And that's when the waitress, Olivia, appeared.

You always had your eye on her. Not just because she was pretty or because she was sweet, but because you had some suspicions about her. You were suspicious that she was in love with you. Not for any particular reason, she just kinda...acted like it.

"May I take your order sir?" She asked in the usual high-pitch tone she's got. You got confused because...she's never called you 'sir'. No one has ever called you 'sir'.