"Oh, don't mind me," Kane said, seeing Kyvi's unease. "We agin' gentlemen are never quite righ' in the noggin."
Kane flipped his menu open, laying it flat on the table. The usual for him today, he thought. And a saucer of ginger ale. It wouldn't do for a businessman such as him to drink on the job, but the house wine did tempt him... In his earlier days, he had set up shop next to the Palmie who manufactured it. It was nothing for a connessieur, he supposed, being too sweet, but it suited his fangs just fine... Oh, but still, he'd promised himself he wouldn't.
A waited, different from the one who'd first met them, greeted them. A Wombear this time, not the least bit anthropomorphic, and only about as high as the table itself. Well, that was alright with him, then. He looked over the rim of the table, grinning broadly at their diminutive host.
"Some ginger ale, iffin' you kindly," Kane asked. "And a garlic chicken sandwich on toasted bread, but only if my companion here is ready t'order."
[(133)7]