A sign above the door read [Moonsilver Diner]... with a small crescent moon logo in white neon. How appropriate.
This entire city must be chock full of references to the ruling werewolves!
I pushed through the door, the little bell above chiming as it announced my entrance. A few steps in was all fine.
Then conversations faltered. Several heads turned to look at me.
I felt uncomfortably aware of my present appearance.
I'd hoped I'd picked somewhere not fancy enough to turn me away, but the backpack I'd taken from the hunter's cabin suddenly felt conspicuous over my shoulders. There were few people carrying anything on the streets in the first place.
Most women used small single shoulder bags that would not hold very much at all. Though some were quite fashionable…
I lifted my chin at their gazes, calling on every ounce of etiquette training I'd cultivated in my previous life. Let them stare at the less than perfect looking woman.
Princess Citra Lomdi, even if none of them knew it, could afford to be taken 'down a few pegs'. I am quite a lenient member of my family.
As I postured, a waitress approached in a work uniform - with the logo from outside pinned on her chest. Her smile seemed professional but her eyes showed how wary she was to even speak to me.
"Table for one?"
"Yes. Please."
I replied politely with a voice just as steady as hers. She then led me to a small booth near the back… away from everyone else.
Whether this was consideration for my privacy or that of the other patrons, I couldn't tell. Either way, I was grateful for a spot to not be stared at.
The flags of honor on my 'royal ship' could not actually go very much lower down the pegs, despite my own boast. Not without scuttling it and making a scene…
Which I just might have done, should I have been pointed at again. With someone whispering something to the side to someone else a single more time.
"Can I get you something to drink while you look at the menu?"
She asked while placing a circle of absorbent cork and a laminated card printed with the menu on one side of the booth. However, I claimed the corner seat that allowed me to see the entire restaurant and both exits.
This forced her smile to tighten and shift the objects. I glanced at the offerings, immediately overwhelmed by the sheer number of options.
"Water for now. I'll need a moment to decide."
The waitress nodded and moved away. I know that generally speaking, she is not a servant… but the idea of those 'name tags' is quite interesting.
If I ever make it back to my world, I may see about implementing them. Even if most would never care to memorize their name, it may be a step up from the overly subtle aristocratic tells of 'whose servant was whose'.
Like wearing certain colored bracelets, headbands, or hairpins to align yourself with their faction. Which honestly sounds a bit like the 'gangs' in this world, now that I think on it…
Shaking away the trivial tangent that my hunger fuzzy brain set me upon, I focus on my order. Helene had never eaten at such an establishment, so her memories offered little guidance beyond basic recognition of some ingredients.
And what she saw on 'television' or read in books when she was very young.
When this 'Melissa' returned with the water, I had made up my mind. Or rather, my hunger had made it for me.
"I'll have the breakfast special with extra bacon."
I began by pointing to the item on the menu that had been given such a salivating image.
"And the club sandwich, extra meat. A side of fries. And…"
I hesitated only briefly - unsure of the portion sizes but expecting it to be less than I had eaten all at once in the forest.
"The cheeseburger with 'everything'."
The woman's brows had risen and remained there as I looked back up.
"That's... uhm, quite an order. You're sure?"
A decisive nod was ruined when I looked back down. My lip quivered when it saw another image. These picture representations of food are pure evil!
Clearly they are meant to sell more to people than they might really need.
"Please add the chicken pot pie."
She finished writing on a small pad of paper with a flourish, but instead of moving away to inform the cook, as my memories say should happen… she hesitated.
"Ma'am, I'll need to have you pay upfront for an order of this size."
The words struck me hard. No one would have dared ask a royal to pay in advance for a single meal. To imply we would shirk our expenses was defamation against the crown.
Even in the Duskpaw pack, no one questioned when members took food from the communal stores. I knew this case was neither of those things, but my voice still came out sharper than I intended.
"Excuse me?"
"It's just... store policy. For large orders from... new customers."
Her eyes uncomfortably flicked to my dirty clothes, then away.
The implication was clear: I looked like someone without means. Who would 'dine and dash'.
My first instinct was to stand and leave instead of suffering the insult. To find somewhere else that would show more respect.
But that deflated quickly. Not just because I was hungry. But because she was right.
If I had not obtained any money today, I may have even been forced to consider doing something like that, eventually. I'd like to think I would have made it a few days or sought… alternative routes.
Like going back to the forest to hunt something, if I had to. Which is why the practical part of me took control and reached for the card in my pocket.
"I understand. Where do I...?"
"Please, just remain seated. I'll bring the card reader over here."
She assured with relief evident in her voice. It was clear the whole ordeal was stressful for the one accusing me, as well.
When she returned with a slightly bulky electronic device, I watched carefully as she entered the total. The numbers made me blink.
This world's currency is still somewhat confusing to me. I haven't had enough time to really stop thinking about comparative values as they would be in my kingdom.
In any case, I'm certain that this is no small amount to the likes of the average Duskpaw. But much less expensive than some of the phone models that were for sale at that pawn shop.
So, I assumed Kyrie's card could handle it. If only I knew how to use it.
"How do I…"
Melissa reached for the item in my hand. I narrowed my eyes and she smiled awkwardly until I let go.
"You just insert the chip end like this. Then enter your PIN if it asks for one."
She demonstrated with a gentle motion so I could follow along. The machine beeped once, then displayed "Approved" on its backlit screen.
With that, the waitress - and her demeanor - shifted instantly.
"Your food will be out as soon as possible."
Her smile became warmer, more intentionally pleasing. Which only makes sense.
She is sure I am an actual patron and not a thief, so she can afford to be less wary and… seek more 'tips'.
More than the 'required gratuity' percentage that I see was listed on the ticket she wrote up. Or perhaps I'm being cynical.
She could just be happy that she earned that extra 'fifteen dollars' from dealing with me for only a few minutes. Just like any servant for receiving small boons.
Ah, I compared her job to such a thing again, I should really stop that before I slip my opinion out loud.
"Would you like a refill on your water or to look at the drink menu while you wait? We have a number of excellent spirits and a happy hour coming up soon."
Now she is reminding me more and more of a merchant.
> Wolf, comfort me. I believe I'm being fleeced. <
A snort and further curling up in my mindscape as it gives me the 'cold shoulder' back. I probably deserve it, but it's really making me want to show just how annoying I truly can be!