Tea at Gardenia's

"Could I tempt you with another slice of honey glazed ham?" Gardenia asked in her sweetest tone of voice, one hand under the table cloth running her fingers down the grains of her crude wooden leg.
"Why I couldn't possibly dear," Colette said, patting her small bulged paunch, straining to be free of her floral summer dress. "I'll have to spend another three days on the exercise wheel now to make up for the banquet we've had here tonight, won't I Ira?"
Ira merely grunted, his eyes blurry and out of focus. A bungee chord of drool escaped the corner of his mouth and snapped off. Colette said, "Ira? Are you even listening to me?" while Gardenia soaked in this interaction, with keen, darting eyes.

Colette gave a little sigh of irritation, "He hasn't been the same since his lobotomy," she explained.

"Honey...glazed..." said Ira.

Gardenia took this as her cue and deftly carved another slice for Colette's virutally brain dead partner.

"Most kind," she said, making expert incisions into the culinary abomination. "It pleases me greatly that my cooking does not go to waste."
From Colette's stern expression she clearly disapproved.
"What can I get you Colette? A relaxant, I mean a lovely strong peppermint perhaps? I do so love to treat my guests to sweet things," said the sly one with a knowing smirk.
"No, that won't be necessary," the older, tanner, blonder woman responded. "Besides I despise the taste of mint. It feels...unnatural somehow."
"And an exercise wheel isn't?" she of the bloodshot eyes murmered.
Colette sniffed, saying, "Sorry, what was that?"

"Another slice of ham, perhaps?"
It was all the tanned one could do not to pound her head on the table.