Meat
"Finally!" a familiar voice called. Jacen tried to look innocent. "Jeez, and only half an hour late, too."
"That must be a new record," Jacen replied. "Hello, Tahiri."
"I thought you'd gotten cold feet or something," the blond woman stated. "It's not nice to keep a lady waiting."
"Funny," Jacen replied, "I don't see any."
"I didn't mean me, dummy. Your date's already inside. Someone had to take the reservation or they'd give up the table." She reached forwards and straightened his tie. "Honestly, Jacen. You're twenty-two years old, a Jedi knight, and you can't even keep yourself from looking like a scruffy mongrel. What gives?"
Jacen shrugged. "I get it from my father," he said plainly. Tahiri groaned.
"Forget it. I'm keeping you from getting to your dinner. She's gonna think we're both dead."
"Just curious, but who is ishe/i?" Jacen asked. Tahiri rolled her eyes.
"You'll find out when you meet her!" she exclaimed. "Okay, so here's the really important stuff. She's in booth three and she's wearing a green dress."
"Can you tell me anything else about her?" Jacen asked as Tahiri began pushing him towards the door.
"She's got a great personality!" Tahiri answered with a grin, shoving him through the door.
"Tahiri, wait—
Jacen spun around and looked through the restaurant. A very bad feeling was chewing on the back of his head as he focused his eyes on booth three and the woman sitting at it.
"Oh shavit," he murmured.
"Sir," the manager said, "Are you looking for someone?"
"Is there any other booth three?" he asked.
"That's a silly question," the manager, a teenaged human girl with long brown hair said. "Of course there isn't." She paused. "Are you supposed to be meeting someone here?"
"Yes, but…"
"You do know it isn't very nice to keep a lady waiting, right?" The manager asked.
"Yes, I've been informed of that," Jacen replied irritably.
"She's been here a good half hour waiting for you."
"Yes, I've been informed of that, too," Jacen sighed.
"Good then. You go sit down and I'll get someone to take your orders." Her heels clicking across the polished fake-wood floors, she ushered Jacen over to booth three and then headed back to the front desk. Swallowing hard, Jacen sat down. With great difficulty, he attempted to maintain eye contact. Difficulty because, for one thing, until about six months ago his first response to this woman would have been to shoot first and ask questions later. For another, though her eyes were interesting, the tattoos on her face, neck, and collarbone were more interesting, especially the ones on her collarbone.
"I was starting to worry," she said, "That maybe you'd gotten in a speeder crash or something."
"Nope," Jacen said. "Unfortunately."
"I'm Nen Yim," she said.
"I'm going to kill Tahiri," Jacen replied.
"Yes, but I'd rather you didn't, she's helping me acclimate to your culture. Is it customary to state your homicidal thoughts after somebody gives you their name?"
Jacen felt incredibly silly as he introduced himself. That topic done with, he looked down at the menu. "Have you ever been here before?" he asked.
"No," she replied.
"That makes two of us. The pasta looks good," he said.
"Nerf steak is always a safe bet," she replied.
"Not when my mother cooks it," Jacen intoned. "Have you ever eaten something that growled at you?"
"Yes," Nen Yim answered flatly. "But I was under the impression that nerf steak was supposed to be …how should I put it… dead?"
"It is. My mother's cooking resembles alchemy sometimes."
"Oh. Sounds like my mother's cooking. Now there's something to give you nightmares."
"I wonder if they've met?"
"Oh. Probably not."
"Have you decided on your orders yet?" the waiter asked, approaching.
"Nerf steak for two," Jacen answered.
"Make sure it's dead," added Nen Yim.
