Chapter 4: Dining Experience

“So what makes this restaurant better than the other one we went to?” Kofe asked, standing with her hands on her hips as she examined the establishment. She narrowed her eyes as she struggled to read the text on the sign that hung from the building’s facade, at head-height to her. “La G ... Grande Assiette. What does that mean?” she asked, butchering the pronunciation.

“It’s French,” Miller replied, sizing up the doorway and wondering how Kofe was going to fit through it. It was one thing to cause a scene at a cheap fast food joint, but it was quite another to create a public disturbance in the Pinwheel’s only high-end restaurant. He wasn’t sure that they would even be able to seat a Borealan.

He had foregone his usual yellow overalls and had instead opted to wear the one presentable set of clothes that he owned. It wasn’t quite a suit, more like a pair of jeans and a dress shirt, but it was the best that he could do on short notice. He had impressed upon Kofe the importance of dressing properly, yet here she was, wearing a black linen shift dress. It might have been more modest on a smaller woman, but it clung to her exaggerated figure. There was enough material there to use it as a sail for a boat. It was a knee-length, sleeveless dress with a v-neck that was light and floaty, designed for hot weather. It contrasted with her white fur, making the way that she was spilling out of it all the more conspicuous.

“This is just what humans do,” he explained, “you take your date to a fancy restaurant.”

“That doesn’t make much sense. In my experience, expensive food is rarely the best tasting or the most filling. Food from street vendors is usually the best.”

“Well you wanted to go on a real date, so here we are. It’s a human custom, so just go with it.”

“Hey, I’m not complaining about free food, I just thought it was an odd choice.”

“Free food?” Miller asked.

“Yeah, I read up on this ritual. The male is supposed to pay the bill.”

“You realize they’ll kick me off the station if I run out of money and can’t afford to pay my rent and utility fees, right?”

She reached down and messed up his hair playfully, Miller cursing as he tried in vain to straighten it again.

“Come on Jeff, we have a date to go on.”

She took him by the hand and dragged him along behind her, leading him up to the restaurant’s glass door. Miller would never have imagined that he would one day come to dread the sight of a door, but he felt his cheeks already beginning to flush as the patrons behind the windows turned to stare.

Kofe crouched, turning sideways and taking a deep breath as she sucked in her gut. Her breasts caught on the frame as she pushed through the doorway, and she attempted to compress them with her arm without much luck, eventually succeeding in pushing her way through. She stood and brushed off her dress, the black material already coated in a layer of white hairs that made her look like she was covered in glitter. She had to crouch a little in here, as the ceiling was a little too low for her to stand upright. There were also light fixtures and chandeliers, Kofe dodging them as Miller led her to a podium, behind which a terrified head waiter was standing.

“Uh ... reservation for two?” Miller mumbled, unsure of why he had phrased the statement as a question.

“N-Name please?” the waiter asked, tearing his wide eyes away from the giant alien as he swiped at a touch panel that was embedded in the wood.

“Miller.”

“Ah yes, you’re in the database. Please wait a moment, sir, I think that we might need some ... specialized seating arrangements for your companion.”

He hurried away into the restaurant, and Miller took a moment to admire the décor. It was all earthy tones, beige and brown, with imitation wood finishes. The chandeliers that hung from the ceiling cast a dim, yellow glow, only the light from the windows that looked out onto the torus brightening the establishment. The floor was wood, probably imitation, as was the bar. The tables and chairs were lined up in rows, also wood, and the whole place had a very rustic vibe. They were clearly going for a traditional farmhouse aesthetic, like a bar or an inn that one might find the French countryside.

It was very impressive considering the restaurant’s location. It wasn’t easy to make the matte white metal of the station look like anything besides sterile hull material.

The place was pretty packed, most of the tables were occupied by patrons who were consumed by their gourmet food, a few of the nearer ones looking up to examine Kofe. They appeared to be mostly civilians, tourists either visiting the station or passing through on their way to other colonies. The outlying worlds were shitholes if Miller was being honest, but Franklin was a popular destination for tourists and businessmen that bordered contested territory. Those damned cowboys were tenacious, it would take more than a few Bug scouting raids to shake them off their rock.

Private yachts generally weren’t given docking clearance on the Pinwheel, because at any moment a battle damaged fleet might show up for a refit, but the upper classes tended to find their way to the station on liners and civilian vessels. Adventuring across the galaxy was a popular pastime for those with too much money and time these days.

The head waiter returned, looking flustered.

“Please follow me, sir, we can seat you now.”

He guided them between the tables, Kofe paying close attention to her wide hips so as not to crash into the other patrons. They arrived at a table that had been moved some distance away from the rest to make room for Kofe’s bulk. The head waiter gestured to one of the chairs, indicating that Miller should take a seat.

“My apologies, ma’am, but we don’t have any chairs that are suitable for someone of your ... stature. If you’d like, we can bring you some cushions to sit on.”

“Don’t sweat it,” she replied aloofly, patting her rump. “I brought my own cushion.”

Miller covered his face with his hands, but the waiter seemed relieved. Perhaps he had expected her to protest. He quickly hurried back to his post and out of sight. Kofe sized up the table, then sat down cross-legged, tall enough that she was at a fairly comfortable height. Miller handed her one of the laminated menus, and she opened it, her eyes narrowing as they played over the text.

“What is ... pommes frites? Mother’s mercy, how many languages do you humans have? I can’t even read English all that well yet.”

“Those are fries,” he replied. “Hang on, I’ll come and help you.”

He left his seat and circled around the table to peer over her shoulder, reading the dishes off to her as he traced the menu with his finger.

“How about this one? Filet Mignon. It’s a choice cut of beef, sauteed with a yellow tomato vinaigrette. You might like that. It comes with grilled asparagus.”

“Alright,” she replied. “I’m kind of lost, so I’ll just trust your judgment.”

Before very along another waiter appeared, a woman this time. She set down a basket of sliced bread and a pitcher of water on the table, then asked them if they were ready to order. Miller relayed their choices, and she took their menus away, disappearing into the kitchen behind the bar.

“Are these for us?” Kofe asked, gesturing to the items that the waitress had left.

“Yep, you can eat those. But don’t spoil your appetite. Wait, what am I saying? You could eat all of the bread in the restaurant, and I doubt it would put a dent in your appetite. Help yourself.”

Apparently, she was more concerned with the water, lifting the jug in one hand and downing it in a few gulps. She set it down like she had just slammed a beer, wiping her mouth with the back of her furry forearm and exhaling contentedly.

“Thank goodness, that’s ice cold. It’s really hot in here.”

“Yeah, I guess it’s pretty warm,” Miller confirmed. Restaurants like this were often pretty hot, that was why he hadn’t brought a jacket. So many people crammed into such a small space, with a hot kitchen only feet away would always cause the temperature to rise a little. Kofe seemed to be swallowing as if she still had a mouthful of water even after setting down the jug. Before he could ask her about it, the waitress returned with more laminated menus.

“Anything from the wine menu, sir, madam?”

“No wine for me, thanks. I’ll take a coffee, black. Can you bring us some more water too?”

“Of course,” the woman replied. “Anything for you, madam?”

“Uh...” Kofe examined the menu for a moment. “Can I get some sparkling water?”

“Right away. Would you like me to bring you the bottle?” she asked with a smile. This waitress at least seemed to be happy to see Kofe. After serving dozens of snooty tourists, it must be a breath of fresh air to have an alien patron who wasn’t quite so uptight. Kofe nodded, and the woman left again.

“You thirsty?” Miller asked.

“Yeah, I’m getting pretty warm,” she replied as she fanned herself with the wine menu. “You humans sure do like it hot.”

“Come on, you live in an arctic environment. I almost lost all of my fingers to your apartment.”

“Ugh, my pads are starting to sweat,” she grumbled as she wiped her hands on her dress. “I wish you would have let me wear less clothing.”

“You can’t eat at a restaurant like this wearing a pair of shorts and a blouse,” he said, “I doubt that they’d even let you in.”

She reached across the table and plucked one of the decorative flowers from a small vase, popping it into her mouth and shearing away the petals with her sharp teeth before Miller could stop her.

“Well this isn’t very tasty,” she complained.

“Will you put that down? Not everything on the table is edible. Why the hell did you think that you could eat a flower?”

“I don’t know, I thought maybe it was some human delicacy. I don’t know what your kind eats.”

“Just eat the bread if you’re hungry, the main course shouldn’t be too long.”

She started on the bread as he glanced around the restaurant nervously. A couple of people at neighboring tables had taken notice, one lavishly dressed woman muttering under her breath at the sight.

Kofe finished the basket of bread off quickly, plucking a hunk of butter from its dish with her claws and eating it whole, rather than spreading it on the slices.

Soon the waitress returned with their drinks, placing the water before Kofe and handing Miller his coffee. He stirred it with his spoon, watching the steam rise from it in a lazy plume.

“My name is Kofe,” she announced loudly to the waitress. “Like the drink!”

“Is that so?” the waitress chuckled, putting a hand daintily to her mouth.

“We’re on a date,” she added, loudly enough that everyone nearby could hear her. Miller groaned, hiding his face with his hands as his Borealan companion shot him a toothy grin.

“I’ll be back with your meals soon,” the waitress said with a wink, heading off to take orders from the other tables. Kofe wasted no time, downing a second jug of water in a few gulps, ice cubes and all. She sighed, refreshed, licking her lips with her long tongue. She eyed the bottle of sparkling water, popping the cap and bringing it to her mouth as Miller scrambled to stop her.

“Kofe, wait! That water is carbonated! It-”

Too late, she had already downed half of it, her eyes widening as she realized that something was amiss. She placed it back on the table, shaking her head vigorously and sticking her tongue out.

“It stings my tongue!”

“I tried to tell you,” he muttered, “it’s a carbonated drink. It’s fizzy, full of tiny bubbles like a can of soda. It’s also full of-”

Kofe belched loudly into her hand, the woman at the adjacent table shooting her an outraged look.

“ ... gas,” Miller finished. “Go easy on it, and do try to mind your manners. I don’t want to get kicked out of this place.”

“Alright, alright. I’m doing my best here. I doubt you’d fare so well at a Polar banquet.”

She resumed her drinking, taking smaller sips this time around, seeming to enjoy the sensation of the cool liquid in her mouth. Miller found himself wondering how a Polar would cool itself when it began to overheat. Dogs and cats panted when they got too hot, but he had never seen Kofe do that before. She said that her pads were sweating, but furred animals couldn’t sweat across their entire bodies, at least he thought not. He remembered reading something about horses being able to sweat, perhaps he was wrong.

He wasn’t cruel. If she genuinely couldn’t take the heat, then they could always leave early, but he at least wanted to enjoy one course before that happened. It wasn’t often that he found an excuse to eat gourmet food.

As if on cue, the waitress returned, carrying a stack of plates in her hands. She placed them before the pair, Kofe’s eyes lighting up as the scents reached her nose. The Polar had a square, porcelain dish with a choice cut of steak, lightly drizzled with garlic sauce and garnished with asparagus. Miller had opted for the Ratatouille Nicoise, a French specialty comprised of stewed vegetables. He was saving room for the desserts, the restaurant was somewhat famous for its pastries and cakes.

“Wait ... this is it?” Kofe stared at her plate, pouting. “With the amount this cost, they should have brought me a pile of meat up to here,” she said as she mimed with her hand. “This doesn’t even look large enough to satisfy a human. We could have bought our weight in burgers instead.”

“Quality over quantity,” Miller chided. She made to spear the steak with her claw, but he stopped her, gesturing to the cutlery that had been laid out beside her plate. Kofe rolled her eyes, picking up the knife and fork reluctantly, fumbling with them like someone using chopsticks for the first time.

“I have perfectly good claws,” she grumbled, “humans only use cutlery as a substitute.”