"I'm not really fond of these theme nights," Greg said.
John handed him a pint. "I ordered food. I did not order the themed cocktail."
"Ta." Greg glanced around. "There's hockey on every single screen."
"No, there's ice skating on the one I can see from here."
Barenaked Ladies came on the sound system, singing about having a million dollars.
A waitress in a maple leaf t-shirt and tuque arrived and set down two rolled paper napkins with silverware in them and a basket of something hot.
"Poutine." John unrolled a napkin and pulled out a fork. At Greg's blank look, he expanded his answer. "Chips and cheese curds in brown gravy."
"Nope. The bartender said they went so far as to import the curds. For authenticity's sake."
"That's what he said. Smells good." John dug in a fork and loaded it with steamy, gooey, gravy-laden chips. He blew on it to cool it a bit. Greg watched dubiously as he consumed the mouthful and smiled. "It's delicious!"
Unconvinced, Greg followed his friend's lead with a more cautiously sized bite. The concoction was salty, chewy, and potato-y, and surprisingly perfect for a late night after a long week and a tough case.
"What do you think?" John reloaded his fork. "Good?"
"Better than good. Brilliant, eh?"