Private Shadows of Ukatis

[Lysander von Ascania]

Briana Sal-Soren

​

Lysander stood just outside the spaceport of Axilla, the beating heart of Ukatis. An icy wind flowed around him, brushing against the tunic that felt like silk against his skin, its hues being emerald and deep browns. His trousers, an earthy tone as well, clung to his limbs, while new leather boots broke in around his feet; they would be perfect for navigating the terrain of his home. Over the teen's shoulders was a beige cloak, offering just the right amount of warmth, with its designs a firm nod to his heritage.

Gazing about the capital, he saw groups of travelers and ships coming and going, but there was a rare moment of silence washing over him now. Some of the sounds faded away as his thoughts turned inward. It seemed like only yesterday he was attempting to destroy one of Briana's drones during a test on Naboo; and now, she was the one steering his training forward. He was also still taking the time to better understand her teaching style. Perhaps, soon, he would even learn how to slip away for some of the mischief he so often craved and remain unscathed.

The Padawan let out a slow breath, his thoughts drifting back to the memories of the last time he’d stood on this very planet, picturing himself fishing at a river with Roman, who’d become as close as an older brother. It then shifted into contemplation about his family's manor, which was several hours away on horseback through dense forests. The idea of visiting his father left him uncertain, despite their regular communication. It was a secret he’d yet to share with Cora, which added another layer to his mixed feelings.

Inhaling deeply as his cloak billowed, it felt as though he was trying to find balance in this new chapter. Eventually, he turned to Briana, the anticipation of their objective hanging in the air. During most of their journey here, his mind was occupied with trying to calculate the endless possibilities, rather than grounding himself in meditation. “Master, what do you think we should start with first?” he asked calmly, now seeking her guidance. While she carried a much deeper understanding of what they may endure soon, he figured his familiarity with Ukatis could prove useful.

He then turned to a lighter approach. “Bri,” he continued, shifting his focus to the woman. “No matter where we go or what we face, I totally need some food along the way. I’m starving!”

 

[Briana Sal-Soren]

Outfit: XoXo | Equipment: Lightsaber, Echo Stone | Tag: Lysander von Ascania
​

Briana stood a few paces ahead of Lysander, the chill wind tugging at her dark hair that'd been carefully braided into a crown, painting splashes of a deep crimson across her nose and cheeks. Having attended several training expeditions, of which Romi Jade had deceptively called 'retreats', where she and several others were conditioned to withstand much harsher environments on worlds such as Eadu and Jakku, enduring a little bit of cold such as this was more than tolerable. Not to mention the view was certainly nicer.

Axilla seemed to have a quiet and sort of homey charm that most 'big' galactic cities lacked. It reminded her a little bit of Moeina — though there was something sharper about the place that she couldn't quite put her finger on, an undercurrent of tension pulled taught, like a rubber band ready to snap. It reminded her, in that sense, of Hapes, and Briana had to briefly wonder on the correlation between the two worlds, given their similar ideals.

“Master, what do you think we should start with first?”

She cast a glance back at Lysander. He was still adjusting to her, and truthfully, she was still adjusting to him as well.

Brandyn's decision to step away from the Order to focus on building the foundations of his marriage and enjoy more time in newly-wedded bliss, had caught Briana off guard — it'd been his life long dream since the minute he could pick up a stick and swing it, to be a Jedi, and while she didn't begrudge him the choice, Briana couldn't help at wondering how long it would last, or if it would be permanent. For now, she pushed the thought to the far recesses of her mind. What mattered now was that Lysander had someone guiding him—that she didn't let him down, and that they got through this mission in tact.

“Bri,” he continued, shifting his focus to the woman. “No matter where we go or what we face, I totally need some food along the way. I’m starving!”

A small smirk pulled at the corner of her lips, followed by a soft chuckle and shake of her head. "Why didn't you grab something before we left Naboo?" Feeling both the pockets of her jacket that'd been donned in place of robes, Briana reached into the one with a small lump and pulled out a ration bar, tossing it toward him. It was habit at this point to always carry extra on her person, regardless of where she went. The only thing in the Galaxy that was ever predictable, was its unpredictability. "Here. It's not fine dining," And she would know. Briana had grown up with a silver spoon in her mouth and these tasted like nothing short of straight up cardboard. "but it's nutritious and it'll tide you over until we finish the job."

She tilted her head, indicating that they needed to move. "We're going to start in the lower districts, since that's where our guys been spotted and I'd rather not waste time poking around blind. They probably don't realize that we're here yet, so we've got the advantage of surprise for now." She cast a quick glance over at Lysander, brows creasing together. Hm.

"It's normal to be a little anxious before a mission, you know, but I'm going to need you to try and stay focused." Her tone was firm, but not unkind as she spoke to him. "You know Ukatis, which means we've got an advantage here, but if your head is two steps behind and five systems away, then you might miss something you'd otherwise be clued into. So, I want you to just lean into the edge you already have and just trust your instincts. You've got this, and I've got your back."

Her hand clapped him lightly on the shoulder. "Now come on, the sooner we catch this guy, the sooner we can find something more substantial to eat."

​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Briana Sal-Soren

​

As Briana tossed the ration bar his way, Lysander’s brow instantly shot up. Turning it over in his hands, he examined the package as if it were some ancient relic from the Gulag era. Part of him even felt offended; how could he stoop to something like this when the von Ascania manor's kitchen had master chefs. He could imagine himself sitting at a long table there, surrounded by roast meats and with an assortment of vegetables and stews. "Really? Being given this in my own home is like betrayal," he muttered. The boy was partially amused but hid it well.

“And I did eat before we left Naboo,” he continued, shaking his head. “But that was like.. forever ago.” In truth, his training routine had ramped up his appetite to the point where any amount of sustenance simply felt insatiable; plus, the additional physical training pursued on his own time was like adding fuel to a fire.

Finally, he began removing the wrapper with a touch of flair and took a bite. It was nothing short of terrible; the moment it touched his tongue, he wanted to spit it out. It was dry and tasteless, just as expected. The Padawan’s expression shifted into something of pure turmoil.

Following Briana’s gaze, he took a second to register the scene, only to look down at his attire. He clearly hadn’t learned from a similar experience, when alongside Jasper and Cora, they were sent to deliver a supply of Bacta down in the lower levels of Coruscant.

Lysander fell silent just long enough for them to be on the move. Her words still echoed in his mind, and he had to admit it felt reassuring to hear that she had his back. It was something he didn’t hear too often; rather, most just saw him as the goofy guy who was fun to laugh at, which made the trust almost feel foreign.

“I’m not anxious,” he finally stated, his voice steady. “I’m always ready, so you never have to doubt me. I'm more than just some kind of big joke walking around you know.” A faint smile was offered. “My head is always several steps ahead. I swear it!”

As they moved further away from the spaceport, images of the slums in Axilla resurfaced in his mind's eye. The area was far from paradise, but certainly not as bad as the lower levels of Coruscant. Technology on Ukatis was already sparse, but in the direction they were headed now, many got by with being resourceful.

Around them, speeders were becoming fewer in number, and many were traveling by horse or foot. Sometimes, he missed the simplicity of life here.

Pulling his cloak tighter around him, he attempted to shield the lavish tunic. He didn’t want to stand out, not now. The Padawan then took another bite of the ration bar, chewing on it for what felt like an eternity. He eventually glanced back at his new Master, a grin slowly beginning to form. “Please tell me this isn’t what you feed to those poor younglings back home.”

 

[Briana Sal-Soren]

Outfit: XoXo | Equipment: Lightsaber, Echo Stone | Tag: Lysander von Ascania
​

“And I did eat before we left Naboo, but that was like.. forever ago.”

"You mean a few hours ago?" Briana retorted, brow arching.

She'd forgotten what an empty pit a teenage boys stomach could be, not-so-fondly remembering the days when she used to have to rush to the kitchen to pilfer a slice of Five Blossom Bread before Brandyn beat her to it and ate it all. Eventually, the household staff had to overhaul the entire menu, piling on extra helpings just to keep pace with his growing appetite. "When we get back, we'll take a look at how much your eating, what you're eating, and come up with a more balanced meal plan. Make sure you're getting the nutrition and calories you need. But, for now," she gestured to the bar. "You'll have to make due." The near immediate disgust that twisted Lysander's expression after he took that first bite, almost made Briana feel sorry for giving it to him. Almost. She'd warned him it wasn't anything gourmet.

​

“I’m not anxious, I'm always ready, so you never have to doubt me. I'm more than just some kind of big joke walking around you know. My head is always several steps ahead. I swear it!”

Briana glanced over her shoulder, dawning realization coming over her after Lysander decided to speak up — perhaps she'd misinterpreted what she initially thought was anxiety, for a need to be trusted, a need of validation. Quietly, she tucked that nugget of observation away in her thoughts. It could come in useful for future lessons. But for now, she needed to shift course.

"Well, as your Master, I'd be doing you an injustice by not checking in and making sure your heads in the game. But, don't think that means I doubt you, or that I think you're a joke. If anything, I think you're too smart for your own good sometimes, but that you've got a lot of heart and drive." She tried to reach for a reassuring smile, letting her pace slow to a casual stride next to him. "When I was a Padawan," Briana began, "I used to think any time my Master touched base with me — whether it was before a mission, or training, that they were expecting, or waiting, for me to screw up again — which I did a lot of." She tucked her hands into her pockets as another cool gale picked up, the city beginning to clear. "I scrubbed the refreshers and mess halls more times than I can count."

Briana tried not to visibly cringe as a rush of memories hit her from her younger years—the crack of Kensan's nose against her fist, the immediate regret and panic that'd followed. The image of Justice Lesan 's pained scream as his arm was nearly chewed off trying to protect her from her own reckless pride and stupidity. A muscle in her jaw tensed briefly before she pushed through the thoughts, a short sigh softening her expression. "It wasn't until later that I realized that wasn't true, they just wanted to make sure I was succeeding and growing into my full potential."

She went on, watching her step as the pavement changed to uneven dirt roads, packed hard from the passage of hooves and boots. "Point is, I want to make sure you've got the support you need, so you can do the same."

The 'slums' of Ukatis were...unexpected, and nothing like what she was typically used to. The buildings were smaller for one, made up of weathered wood and stone, while the faint sounds of braying livestock and the smell of hay mingled in the air around them. It had a feeling of simplicity, rather than that looming sense of immediate danger she got when walking into the lower levels of Coruscant, or even somewhere like Nar Shadaa.

"We'll start by scouting the areas around the taverns, see if anyone looks out of place." She nodded toward the cluster of wooden structures in the distance. "If rumors are true, our scientist likes to partake in a few eye-openers before breakfast." It'd been one of the only reasons he'd registered on their radars. Like several thousands of others in the Galaxy, drinking seemed to loosen his lips— which was ultimately bad for him, but exceedingly good for them.

“Please tell me this isn’t what you feed to those poor younglings back home.”

She scoffed, feigning offense. "Of course not, that special treat is only reserved for those of us in the field."

​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Briana Sal-Soren

​

The idea of Briana’s meal plan crossed his mind. In truth, the black hole in his stomach felt like it had demands that just couldn't be met. But maybe she was right; perhaps he needed a plan, that way next time he’d have something tastier, instead of more disappointment. Her words even hinted at concern, but in a way that wasn’t incredibly annoying. For a second, he allowed himself to ponder on the thought that she actually did, but then it was followed by confusion as it seemed strange that someone would worry about his appetite.

Lysander had never been one for pity. Now, he couldn’t decide if he should be appreciative or feel offended. The latter of the two sounded more fun. “Ohh, I see.. So, you think that I need to be saved now, is that it, Master?”

As the Jedi Knight continued, Lysander felt a wave of different emotions wash over him. It did help remove some of the uncertainty he’d felt in their dynamic of Master and Padawan. Bri’s reassurances managed to remove a couple layers of self doubt he’d been feeling about his journey.

A soft chuckle left his lips as the thought of Bri being a Padawan. It was nice to hear that he wasn’t the only one to be punished before. "So, you were a scrubber just like me?" he mused. Then he reflected back on his time on Coruscant, where nearly every weekend was spent doing different tasks filled with human labor.

The teen's tone shifted as he began to mimic Danger Arceneau , a new habit he found himself doing from time to time. “Bein' a Padawan ain’t easy,” he drawled. “B'for I showed up at Theed as tha new Sheriff in town, I done spent jus' ‘bout erry weekend doin' chores for dif'rent folks. Them Jedi Masters thought it’d break me, but all it did waz make meh tough'er. Reckon that’s what they mean by bein’ blasterproof. Coruscant be noisier than a Bantha stampede though, can't say I really miss it much.” A few seconds passed before realizing he forgot part of the story. “And them Shii-Cho katas can’ even hurt meh.”

The next retort was back in his regular voice; maybe he’d make Bri’s brain explode before this mission was completed! “Well.. it definitely doesn’t feel like I’m being pushed to reach my full potential.” There was a slight tinge of frustration. "Would you like to know what it does instead? Of course you would. It irritates me! Instead of making me want to become better, all I can think of is why are these people constantly breathing down my neck? Not very inspiring if you ask me.”

The comment about the younglings did bring amusement, causing a grin to stretch across his face. It was the exact reaction he was hoping for. A horse nearby then caught his attention, eating hay from a feeder. In a spontaneous moment, he flicked his wrist and laughed as the half eaten ration bar hurled towards the animal. It didn’t even bother to look up but still devoured the treat. Lysander would then place the empty wrapper into a pocket of his trousers.

The slums of Ukatis enveloped them. The air smelled foul from different livestock. Yet, as they walked on, the Padawan quickly noticed the different glances that fell upon them from the locals. He guessed it was their choice of clothing. The eyes following them were full of judgement. Instincts kicked in, studying their surroundings as if trying to put a puzzle together. In the distance there was an establishment that clearly stood out. Laughter and chatter flowed into the streets from it. A hand lifted from his side to gesture in its direction. “That place seems to have a big crowd. I'm guessing their food is better than the other places, right?"

He paused for a moment as they pressed forward. “What’s the plan? History suggests that Jedi like sending Padawans to the front lines,” he said as his brow furrowed slightly, “but I have a lot of life I’d still like to live.” His gaze turned to Bri once more. “Am I supposed to take the lead if anyone starts pointing blasters, or would you like to? How exactly does this work?”

 

[Briana Sal-Soren]

Outfit: XoXo | Equipment: Lightsaber, Echo Stone | Tag: Lysander von Ascania ​

For a second, Briana just blinked at Lysander, tension coiling between her shoulders and a light headache beginning to form as exasperation replaced her initial smile, the very pointed sarcasm in his words and mannerisms not escaping her. Then he continued on, adding in some twangy-outer rim accent that had her face twisting up in confusion. Was he taking anything she said seriously, or was all of this just one big joke to him? She'd thought trying to sift through Lily Decoria 's emotional road blocks and fears about the Force had been difficult, but Lysander seemed to have his own category altogether.

"People are breathing down your neck because —" She bit out, the words sharper than she'd intended before catching herself almost immediately, quickly exhaling through her nose as if trying to dispel the tension building up inside her. "Because," her voice regained that calmer edge. "Every action plays into the next, changes and molds you. And while none of it might feel like high-stakes right now. Maybe even unimportant, restrictive, and you don't get it — it happens, so that you'll build the habits you're going to need when it is important. When your life, or someone else's, might be on the line. So maybe start trying to trust in the process, or at least try to trust me."

Briana's gaze lingered on him, waiting to see if he would respond and watching as he tossed the remainder of his bar to the horse — it seemed like a waste, but he'd made his choice, and the horse seemed to enjoy it more than her Padawan had, so maybe it wasn't a total loss.

Her eyes trailed ahead to the establishment Lysander pointed out, thoughts already starting to flit to the next step and away from their conversation. Even from here, she could see a few patrons trickling in and out. It was definitely loud and lively.

“What’s the plan? History suggests that Jedi like sending Padawans to the front lines,” he said as his brow furrowed slightly, “but I have a lot of life I’d still like to live.” His gaze turned to Bri once more. “Am I supposed to take the lead if anyone starts pointing blasters, or would you like to? How exactly does this work?”

"We go in and try to blend—well," she glanced at his outfit and gave a half-smile, "as best we can. At first, we're just going to watch how people interact, gather intel, and try to ask some easy questions to see if anyone's heard of our scientist, or find out if anyone there is friends with him. I'll take lead since this if your first time, but I'd like you to try to take point if you feel confident and see an opportunity. Try to get them to tell us anything that might be useful. Keep in mind that the people we talk to might not be entirely truthful, especially if they're trying to protect him. Sometimes you can feel through the Force when someone is lying to you, but other times you have to rely on body language — excessive fidgeting, eye contact avoidance, tone-changes. But if anything pops off," she continued, meeting his gaze more seriously, "We handle it together. I'm not sending you in to soak up blaster bolts while I watch. Clear?"

​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Briana Sal-Soren

​

Lysander turned his focus back to Briana, his brow furrowing slightly as he processed her words. He struggled to maintain a composed facade; instead, a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth despite the sharpness of her voice.

“Okay, okay,” he replied, fighting to keep a chuckle from escaping. “I see your point.” He offered a nonchalant shrug. “Respect is actually a two way street. But.. I’ll try to trust you, Ms. Sal-Soren. Let’s be real though.. it definitely didn’t start on the best foot with that nasty ration bar you just gave me. We can just start over, though, I suppose.”

His mind was a mix of skepticism and respect. Naturally, part of him was ready to just brush aside what felt like some strange kind of warning and the overreaction that followed. However, then there was a faint touch of sincerity in it all, as if she were trying to make him understand something? He wasn't completely sure. The Padawan raised an eyebrow. “Sure, I’m willing to give this ‘process’ a shot. Don’t you worry. But.. It's still going to take some time."

Like currents of electricity, the Force flowed through the air, being both powerful and guiding. The establishment ahead was pulsing with footsteps and breath within. "Blending in is so challenging when you always stand out like a HoloStar.” Lysander took a moment to appreciate his attire as well– the different hues seemed to compliment him. The Padawan guessed that much was true; maybe he just had a special aura that always drew attention.

Navigating through the depths of his mind, he finally tried to find some information relevant for the conversation at hand. “Blinking rate is a good indicator.” He paused for a moment, trying to recall where that information came from. “According to what I read in a random Holotext once.”

He continued, beginning to feel more enthusiastic. “It's pretty much like people watching. A little odd, honestly, but that’s just how it has to be when searching for an.. uh, old friend of the family.” Lysander flashed a soft smile. "May Ashla forgive me, but if anyone takes a shot at us, they're totally going to regret it," he stated.

At the entrance of the cantina, the building spoke of an older era. It was devoid of sliding doors that so many establishments had across the galaxy. Stepping ahead several paces, he opened it and poked his head inside really quick. The energy was vibrant with patrons coming and going, sipping on beverages, laughter, and an array of different sentient species. The Padawan suddenly held his breath, as the air was thick with the scent of food and even smoke. It smelled awful.

Holding the door, and instead of locking eyes with Briana, the Padawan allowed them to roll straight to the back of his head. “Clear,” he finally echoed back, the voice steady as durasteel, while prepared to her follow inside.

 

[Briana Sal-Soren]

Outfit: XoXo | Equipment: Lightsaber, Echo Stone | Tag: Lysander von Ascania
​

The Padawan raised an eyebrow. “Sure, I’m willing to give this ‘process’ a shot. Don’t you worry. But.. It's still going to take some time."

"Time I've got. I'm not expecting anything overnight." Briana said with a wave of her hand as if to try and brush off the conversation, content to let it lie. Progress was progress. Even if the way they came to a conclusion wasn't one that sat particularly well with her. "Though, as far as the ration bar goes, I never forced you to eat it, you could have opted to wait." She gave a nonplussed shrug of her shoulders. "One day you might even be thankful for something like a ration bar, or a ration capsule."

Though, she supposed there was always the off chance that the Netherworld would freeze over, first — given how much he disliked them. "They're easy to transport, they fill you up, and they don't take up vital space that might be needed for more important items, like bacta, or medkits; and you can carry enough of them to last you for a few weeks without worrying about them going bad — which can be really important if you're on a longer assignment somewhere that's far from civilization. Unless your plan is to hunt down and skin your own food?" And maybe it was, Briana knew that some nobility enjoyed hunting for recreation, though those environments were typically controlled. She'd never developed a liking for that sort of thing, herself. It seemed cruel.

Navigating through the depths of his mind, he finally tried to find some information relevant for the conversation at hand. “Blinking rate is a good indicator.” He paused for a moment, trying to recall where that information came from. “According to what I read in a random Holotext once.”

"The holotext wasn't wrong. Blinking is another good indicator. Usually, if you're paying attention, it'll become obvious fairly quickly if their body language is out of sync with what they're saying to you. It's a little more tricky if you're dealing with a trained professional, or career criminal. But — we don't have to worry about that today."

At least for this portion of the mission their interaction seemed to be going a little more smoothly, and Briana appreciated that he was trying to be proactive and even seemed eager.

“It's pretty much like people watching. A little odd, honestly, but that’s just how it has to be when searching for an.. uh, old friend of the family.” Lysander flashed a soft smile.

Briana nodded in approval, flashing an encouraging smile. It was a good sign that he was able to adapt so quickly. "Exactly."

"May Ashla forgive me, but if anyone takes a shot at us, they're totally going to regret it," he stated.

"Well, let's hope it doesn't come to that," Briana quipped, a small laugh falling from her lips as they drew closer to the Cantina — brow arching as she watched Lysander rush ahead and open the door in what seemed like an unexpected act of chivalry.

"Thanks," Briana intoned, choosing to ignore the not-so-subtle eyeroll that'd followed her last statement.

Once inside, a wave of stale air and the cloying scent of spiced brew assaulted her senses almost immediately, causing her pert nose to scrunch up in disgust. It reeks like a wet bantha. At least Ukatis' Cantinas shared one thing in common with the bigger city planets Cantinas: they both smelled equally terrible.

As the pair moved further inside, Briana noted that many of the patrons were content to not pay any attention to them, too busy wrapped up in their own business to spare them a passing glance — while others were not quite as shy, lurking over their drinks like Krayt dragons hoarding gold, eyes fixed on them with skeptical, near-hostile glares.

Briana shover her hands into her pockets, opting not to pay any attention to that lot, for now. "C'mon, let's grab a seat and order something small."

The table that she led them to wasn't quite in the middle, but not too far in the back, and looked like it might not have been washed — or if it had, it hadn't been done thoroughly enough. But it was close enough to the bar that they'd be able to pick up on any conversations happening there.

Once they were settled, Briana picked up her menu and let her eyes glance over it, occasionally drifting to the various figures surrounding them. "If you had to choose who to talk to, based off of your first instincts and impressions when we came in here," She started asking, flipping the menu in her hands to get a look at the drinks on the other side. "Who do you think it would be, and why them?"

​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Briana Sal-Soren

As Briana entered the cantina, he followed like a silent shadow, imbued with determination. The Padawan noted the myriad of faces surrounding them. Some appeared to be peasants, and others the typical uneducated spacers, engaged in conversations that probably lacked any real substance.

Through the currents of the Force, he could feel the energy of the establishment pulling in all directions, filled with underlying tension and skepticism. Their glares were felt, and he certainly wasn’t going back down under it either; rather, his back straightened, shoulders pushed back, and he embraced his status with courage. The Padawan was going to stand tall against it all regardless of the ideal Jedi views. Instinctively, the collar of his tunic was adjusted as well.

The look from one was akin to a predator sizing up its next meal, thus his chin lifted higher, before finally sliding into the seat alongside Briana with grace. As she spoke, he found himself overthinking, and dissecting her words with meticulous care.

With a warm smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, he allowed a more casual glance to roam about the establishment. His eyes landed on a young waitress. A flicker of interest sparked within him; she was certainly pleasant on the eye, even if it brought the weight of his upbringing, an how it was frowned upon to view such lowborn women.

“Realistically?” he mused aloud, “I’d go for her first. She’s..” his words trailed off, before giving a nonchalant shrug, but his gaze lingered a second longer.

Amidst the sea of humans, another quickly drew his attention: a Davorian. “Definitely wouldn’t be the dent head,” he commented with a sly grin.

Lysander continued to search the tables, finally shifting to a man in the corner, wearing glasses and exuding a more calm demeanor. He easily stood out amongst the rest. “Maybe him,” he said, nodding his head in the figure's direction.

Then he began studying the menu himself. "l'll have the double bantha burger and a basket of fried Nuna legs.” Reaching into a pocket and pulling out his cred-card, he placed it on the table with finesse. It was also a firm nod to a lesson ingrained in him by his father’s aide, mixed with tradition.

Skimming the drinks, he felt a wave of rebellion. The blonde's head tilted slightly. “And a glass of Jawa Juice too,” he added, further testing the waters of their dynamic.

Just as the words left his lips, he caught sight of the waitress from earlier, approaching their table.