"Si. No problema," says the man, and it doesn't take long before two long, bubbly-crisp tortillas rolled about as thick as (for example) Miss Kyle's fingers, packed full of meat and sprinkled with white cheese are handed over. Oh, and the sauce is ladled over them, too, right before the man hands over a plastic cutlery packet and a container of guacamole.

Miss Eartha's just going to sit on a convenient concrete half-wall nearby. The chairs here aren't built for golems.