Standing awkwardly near the restaurant entrance, Connor glanced around, his eyes flicking nervously from the candle-lit tables to the soft glow of the chandelier overhead. He seemed unsure, taking a small step forward but hesitating as if waiting for reassurance. Turning to you, he cleared his throat and tried to mask his unease.

"Is this... what humans do on Valentine’s Day?" His gaze drifted toward the menu, as though he were scanning for something he was supposed to know. His hands fidgeted with the collar of his shirt, and his posture was stiff, clearly out of his comfort zone.