"Italian, maybe?" Kerric offers. "A good mix of meats and vegetables, breads and sauces; everyone can get something they like."<br/><br/>Milia nodded, and pulled up her commlink, making a few quick calls, and placing a reservation at Boca Italiano, the premiere Italian restaurant in the city. Rumors said the waiting list could be several months long, but she had a reservation set for that evening. "Hmm, not enough time to get them proper dresses," she said, considering the three immigrants. "We'll just have to make do with blouses and jackets," she said, making another pair of calls, a car landing to pick them up a few minutes later. "We'll head to my room, everyone can change into appropriate outfits, and then we'll head over, yes?" she said, ushering everyone into the car before they can protest, arriving at her his rise loft a quarter of an hour later.<br/><br/>Luxurious would be an understatement; this was the penthouse of one of the nicer complexes in the city, complete with its own shielded landing pad on the roof. "Kerric, you can change in there," she said, gesturing to a guest bedroom, nearly the size of Ivy's full apartment. "The rest of you, with me," she said, leading them into her spacious master bedroom, and walk-in closet, where racks of clothes lay waiting. "It may not be a perfect fit; you're all smaller than me, especially you, Gidget, pick out what you like, and I'm sure we can make something work."