"Well, even an Executive Chef needs a Prep Cook... unless you are ze busboy perhaps?" Colette pushed her plate toward Diego and leaned back in her seat, arms behind her head.
"Oh ha ha," he said sarcastically. "I should be insulted. But for you fine ladies, I'll gladly put aside my poor, bruised ego and deign to... clean," he said with exaggerated cordiality and mock disdain.
"Good man, good man. You will do well here I am certain. Perhaps I am biased, but ze girls upon zis campus? I zink zey are enough to make most teenage boys wish zey had been born wiz ze gene."