"Rimbor? No, I'm quite sure I've never heard of that. You must be yet another one of those people from different realities. Do they grow on trees, then? Rhetorical question, dear boy. Even I know that's preposterous. It's a word play on the concept of--there I go again! Why can I not stop talking?" He looks vaguely horrified.

"Now, superheroes, I've heard of. They're not real in my world. They make for good moving pictures and those picture books the kids are all terribly into these days, which is all right for them, I suppose. A gateway into reading, if you will." He's still talking even as he scans the menu.

"I do hope the cream puffs are fresh and not thawed from frozen. It destroys the texture. Excuse me! Yes, yes, you, my dear. Come here. Yes, we were wondering," never mind that he was wondering, and not his hapless companion, "are they fresh? The pastries?"

The girl frowns. "Let me go check." She hurries off into the back through a swinging door.

"We'll know soon."