Jim eyes the chef with his head leant back against his seat. His name reminds him of someone, which is enough for him to take a dislike to the man. Not a serious one, just less receptive to his manner than he was with the hostess and bartender.

'Do you have jambalaya on?' he asks lazily, taking a drink.

'Or is not ordering fish enough to get me strung up?'

His two companions might do it, perhaps. There's probably something less refined about a Creole dish versus fresh fish, but Jim's never cared much for what he's supposed to do.