<span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">Tamia Sciurus</span><br/><br/>Hearing a question from nearby, Tamia adjusted her pointed ears toward the speaker, the better to cut out audible distractions.  Smiling at the beautiful creature, she lifted her chin a little, looking into the clear blue feline eyes.  Ignoring the initial greeting, she piped, "Do you have a veggie menu available?", her head tilting to one side.  Flicking her tail between herself and the nearby silent attendant<em>(Jessica, right?)</em>, the squirrel-girl moved at Rhiyu's hint to walk inside.  Blinking at the change in light, she let her tail relax, no longer needed for shade.  It flowed out behind her like a train to an ostentatious gown, the folds of her custom-knit skirt falling neatly on either side.<br/><br/>Her red-brown eyes shaped like the very walnuts she preferred, they were situated high up on the sides of her head.  She continued to blink and glance about, only half her mind on following her guide's invitation to sit.<em>Such a lovely space, all cozy and welcoming.  I like this place.  Why haven't I been here before?  Oh yeah... Donny the Donkey and his need for meat - ick!  Why a perfectly good mule would need to eat the flesh of other animals is beyond me.  Maybe he's just showing off his violent streak for the other bizniz men?</em>A warning light blinked inside the emptiness of her mind.<em>Better watch out for that 'mule' comment, can't be caught saying it out loud... he'd go berserk and probably try to punish you, honey.  Proud as he is of being a young herbivore in a predator's world, he wouldn't like it to get out that he's sterile - about the only thing he's got going for him genetically.  Honey.... hm.... oh yeah... hungry!</em><br/><br/>Finally perched upon her chair, Tamia curled her tail around the base of its legs automatically, out of the way.  Pleased at the quiet coolness inside the bistro as compared to the pollution-dusted air on the streets, she thought of thick forests and the shade they often provide... not that she'd been outside the city in too long.  Being a working girl meant being open to opportunities to make a buck...<em>heh, or a bull, or a cob, or whatever!</em>Smiling sweetly to the pretty girls attending her, she placed her long-strapped purse under her chair, shifting back into the seat with a wriggle of her shoulders.