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Tony sighs. He'd tried, as usual.

"Two and half years and not another day; I'm holding you to that, sweetheart." Tony says. "And, of course, the Peking Ravioli. You've loved that stuff since the first time I fed it to you."

Tony laughs and calls Tiffany with their order. Tiffany lets him know that she'll take care of it.

"Mom and I are good. We're both getting back into the routine of dealing with a baby. Eddie is challenging us both. He's so smart and inquisitive for one so little. A lot like someone else I know..." he says, grinning at Anya.

"I think your mother is cursing her spy days, though. She can wake from a sound sleep at the drop of a hat. And you know me...if it's World War III out, I require a cannonball wake-up along with a marching band to get out of bed at times." Tony says.