Skidoo appeared at Niko’s elbow. “Captain, we is being having a problem,” she said, tentacles moving nervously.

The problem was at least a handsome one. It was male, human, approximately two meters tall. It stood slouched by the lectern, dressed in evening clothes almost as expensive as its body, and arguing with an unusually flustered Lassite.

Niko wondered if something was trending that she hadn’t known about. Two classic-looking humans, both upscale expensive, in one evening seemed against the odds.

Catching sight of her, the man straightened and took a step toward her. “You’re the owner?” he asked.

“I am,” she said, folding her arms.

“I was trying to explain the situation to your employee, but I’m not sure they understand the importance of it.” He tapped his chest with a finger. “First off, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Arpat Takraven.” He smiled, flashing white teeth at her.

While he didn’t look familiar, the name did ring a bell. Niko cast her mind back to what the twins had been talking about. “You’re the racer?” she ventured.

“Indeed!” He extended a hand, his grip warm and firm. When he released her hand, he said, “The second thing, which you may not know, because not all of my fans do, is that I’m a gourmand of sorts.”

She refolded her arms. “Indeed.”

He pressed fingers to his heart. “The thing is this, gentlebeing. When the rumor reached me, I took my fastest ship here. It would mean so much to me to eat a meal in the presence of someone whose taste is so much greater than my own. I do not find food an aesthetic experience, and I want to witness someone who does, and talk with them as they work their way through the meal. A singular chance to learn. As I said, deeply appreciated.” His fingers shifted to dip into his breast pocket to extract a credit chip, twitching it in her direction. “And something I would be willing to pay…” He paused in order to stress the next phrase sufficiently. “… a great deal for.”

Niko could understand now why the offer had flummoxed Lassite, who knew as well as all the rest that the restaurant needed every bit of money it could get. Still, she shook her head and began to phrase a denial.

He spoke again. “It doesn’t have to be at their table. Just … close enough that I could observe them, perhaps exchange a word or two over the course of the meal. Get a better understanding of how such a being eats.” He twitched the chip at Niko again.

“When you say ‘a great deal,’ exactly how much are you saying?” she asked.

“Name your price.”

Well then. Deep doom, her ass. She ran the figures for a small ship—a tiny and very reasonable one whose maintenance wouldn’t cost too much—through in her head, and named them.