Disclaimer: I don't own it.

A/N: Okay, my schedule's getting a bit hectic but I'm going to try to finish this story quickly. Or at least not make you wait for a year. That being said, I'm probably going to update as many stories as I can so I can get them finished. So an updating frenzy is imminent. I've made this story a lot longer than it needed to be so I'm cutting out a couple of chapters worth of unnecessary space filler; so probably three or more chapters after this one.

Feedback: Yes, please! Suggestions are welcome!

"Okay, we introduced them. Let's go!" Cordelia spun 360 degrees and headed for the door. She would have made the two feet if Doyle hadn't grabbed her arm effectively halting her progress.

"Now wait, Delia. That wasn't a proper introduction and you know it."

"Yeah, but I don't want to be here if they get in a fight."

"Good point, you're still introducing them first. Then we'll go to lunch."

"Oh, all right. Dennis, this is my dead best friend, Marcie. Marcie, this is my ghostly roommate, Dennis."

"That's better."

"Have fun; try not to break anything while I'm gone." At this point, Doyle slipped his grip on Cordy's arm but only enough for his hand to reach hers. He looked down at Cordy's face with a smile lighting up his own face.

"Ready for lunch, princess?" Cordelia, partially hypnotized by the fact that Doyle was actually holding her hand, merely nodded. She turned her head to give the ghosts a warning.

"Okay, have fun you two and try not to wreak the apartment while I'm gone."

The ghosts were silent while Cordy left with Doyle to go eat lunch. Doyle was taking Cordy out to a nice new café. It was a little out of his budget but Delia was well worth it. Luckily the cab ride wasn't very much; Doyle was going to need all his money where he was going.

"A La Carte? A bit pricey don't you think?"

"It'll be fine, Princess. Just follow me." She did follow him into the building and right up to the podium where the maître d was standing. The obnoxious head waiter looked them up and down and sneered at them.

"I do not think that we have a table open for you."

"I have a reservation." The maître d sneered again at Doyle.

"I doubt that very much." Cordy crept closer to Doyle and he saw that she was uncomfortable. Damn, no wonder she always turned him down. People treated him like a bum. She whispered something in his ear.

"Do you know what you're doing?" Doyle turned to Delia and smiled at her.

"Tá." Doyle turned back to the annoying man in charge of reservations.

"What name would the reservation be under?"

"Doyle." The man stared straight at them and spoke.

"There doesn't seem to be any Doyle on the register. I suggest you leave." His tone brought out Delia's inner Queen C. She stared him down with a regal eye and spoke in a superior tone.
"What are you talking about? You didn't even look at the book you pathetic excuse for a man. I want to see your manger."

A young blonde woman with bouncing curls came up to them she was wearing a head hostess uniform. She looked at Doyle and Cordelia and then looked at the maître d. Then she sighed.

"What are you doing now, Louie?"

"This couple claim to have a reservation." The blonde turned towards Doyle and asked for the name of the reservation.

"Doyle." Her eyes lit up with recognition.

"They have a reservation, I booked it myself. That's the third time this week Louie. I'm reporting you."

"Janice, you can't mean that." Cordy turned to Doyle with a look that said, 'They're ignoring us.'

"You're driving away business. I'm sorry for the frustration. I'm sure that the rest of the staff will be courteous to you." She then showed them to the table that she had reserved for him. Janice was ogling Doyle a bit but she noticed how his eyes didn't leave the young lady's face.