“Would you like some translations?” His formal tone contrasted with his casual clothing.
“I’d appreciate that. Otherwise I might end up accidentally ordering something still moving.”
The corner of his mouth twitched in what might have been almost a smile. “We save the still-moving dishes for special occasions.”
He pulled over a chair from an empty table nearby, a proper orc-sized chair that accommodated his frame, and settled across from me.
“This one,” he said, leaning forward to point at an item on the menu. “Is similar to what humans call beef stew, but with earthy spices from the orc kingdom. It’s good if you like complex flavors.”
As he walked me through the menu options, I watched his hands. They were large, like the rest of him, with calluses that spoke of years of physical work. When he reached across to point at something and our fingers accidentally brushed, I felt a small shock run up my arm.
“Sorry,” we both said at the same time.
I looked up to find him watching me, his dark eyes thoughtful. Then his gaze dropped to my sweater again, and I swore he frowned.
“I like it,” I said defensively. “Christmas sweaters make me happy.”
“It does suit you.”
I narrowed my eyes, unsure if I was being insulted. “Is that orc for ‘it looks ridiculous’?”
“No.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “That would be ghuznak. I meant what I said.”
Oh. I felt my cheeks heat again, for an entirely different reason.
Jessi arrived with two glasses of water and a knowing smile that made me wonder if my interest in Becken was more obvious than I’d realized.
“Ready to order?” She glanced between us. “Or do you need more time?”
“I think we’re ready,” Becken announced before I could speak. “She’ll have the spiced ashenbird with root vegetables, and I’ll take my usual.” He glanced toward me. “Dundreg.”
“Perfect choices,” Jessi said, collecting our menus.
As she walked away, I raised an eyebrow at Becken. “Youordered for me?”
“You’ll like it. But I can call her back if you want.”
“No, it’s fine.” His confidence impressed me. “I trust your judgment on orc food.”
From behind the bar, Greel’s deep voice joined in with the music. He belted out “Santa Baby” with enthusiasm, if not exactly perfect pitch.
I smiled. “Is he always like that?”
Becken glanced over at his fellow orc. “My cousin has been practicing for weeks.”
“It’s adorable.”
“That’s one word for it.” But I caught the hint of affection in his voice.
“You’re not a fan of Christmas music?” I asked.
“I’m not a fan of singing about a mythical being who breaks into homes to leave packages.”
I laughed. “When you put it that way, it does sound a little creepy.”
“Humans have strange traditions.” I heard no malice in his voice. “Orcs don’t have a similar holiday. We mark the seasons differently underground.”
“I bet the decorations here seem excessive.”
