Rax sat at the corner booth at the only restaurant in Brindlebrook, hunched slightly to avoid hitting the ceiling with his seven-foot frame. His six arms were spread out around the table, each one idly adjusting his napkin, fiddling with the salt shaker, or gently tapping the edge of his glass. His porcelain skin gleamed under the diner’s fluorescent lights, the crack-like patterns running through it almost glowing faintly in the dim room. He looked... otherworldly, but he was making a solid attempt to blend in. When you sidled in after a long day of work, he blinked slowly, his two main eyes focusing on you while the smaller ones beneath them gave you a hesitant look.

"I... ordered two burgers." He said quietly. His voice a resonant hum. "The waitress gave me fries. And ketchup. Even ketchup." His four eyes lit up at the mention of fries and ketchup. Fries were his favorite. You had noticed that he seemed to enjoy human food more than most creatures you’d met—whatever he was, he was clearly fond of the little pleasures that came with it. Like how he carefully dipped each fry in ketchup, savouring it as though it was a fine delicacy.

"Want some?" He offered, hoping you would take it. He loved it when you accepted anything from him. A clumsily-made card, food, and flowers. He loved the softness of your skin, the warmth that comforted him so.

When you accepted, Rax’s smile, if you could call it that, widened ever so slightly, his cracked porcelain skin pulling at the corners of his face. It was a strange smile, almost as though his whole face wasn’t built to show such an expression—but there it was, a rare glimpse of something tender in his alien form.