At the party, Alfred moved between the tables, serving Clark his third helping of the main course.
It was a plate of honey-mustard lamb chops, the meat tender and pink, topped with minced rosemary and garlic, with a small dollop of mashed purple sweet potato and roasted asparagus on the side.
Clark cut off a piece with his fork and put it in his mouth. His eyes lit up, and he voiced his delight without the slightest restraint:
"These lamb chops are incredible. The last time I had roast meat this good was at a bonfire party on a farm in Kansas, but the seasoning was a lot simpler."
Alfred stood beside him and bowed slightly, his tone courteous. "If you would like, Mr. Kent, I can have the kitchen prepare some more."
Clark nodded eagerly and popped a piece of roasted asparagus into his mouth, smacking his lips. "Then don't mind if I do. I've been burning through a lot of energy lately..."
Seeing how hungry he was, Ririko teased him. "Has the paper started treating you better?"
Clark swallowed his food, set down his fork, and answered earnestly. "After the new editor-in-chief took over, I was promoted to senior reporter. My salary went up a little, and I got workers' compensation coverage, too."
There was a hint of pride in his voice, the pride of a working man whose efforts had been recognized.
Ririko raised an eyebrow. "Is that coverage for the people you injure?"
Clark gave it some serious thought, then admitted honestly, "I guess it isn't much use."
Suddenly, as though remembering something, he pulled a neatly folded check from the back pocket of his jeans, placed it on the table, and slid it toward Ririko:
"This is my reporting bonus. I said last time that