With the arrival of another sandwich and, attached to it, a relatively hefty 30% "service fee," which he determined to be the natural result of his antics, Alason began to dig into his fresh, feta free meal. This enjoyment quickly gave way to an all too human curiosity, however, when he felt the enigmatic Ms. Oakbough pass behind him, leaving behind her a certain odorless stench of defeat as she walked to her seemingly rather miffed customer. On her return, he extended his leg just enough to block her path, though not enough to denote aggression. Rather quickly, however, he realized that he did not know exactly what to say. Alason knew that he wanted to say [i]something[/i], after all, spending most of his time with humans and the near rest of his time alone, such an encounter was quite the event.

"Er, sorry," he finally let out after an unbearable half-second of silence, "do you perchance think that we could have a real conversation once your shift is over?" Realizing how his proposal sounded, Alason quickly went on to amend, "I'd like to give a proper apology for my," [i]What word makes me not sound like a twit...[/i] "shenanigans," [i]Well, that wasn't it. Too late.[/i] "and, more to the point, I think that both of us could use, well," and thus, faced with an alien situation of immense discomfort, Alason I. Campbell was forced into a horrible choice: to save his pride or to try to forge an actual relationship.

Following the passage of the longest second in recorded history, Alason made a decision.

"a friend, I suppose." [i]Well, and I'm sure there's quite a bit I could learn from your history.[/i]