Supporting local businesses. Technically, Hunk's cooking was a part of an intergalactic culinary chain, a load of different restaurants from different owners, going on three different planets now. But that had all happened in less than a few months. But it was still local-ish. The food was phenomenal, which attracted customers. On top of that, the owner and star chef was Tsuyoshi 'Hunk' Garret. Best known as Hunk. Ex-Paladin of the Yellow Lion of Voltron, one of the main team that had saved all of existence from destruction under the claws of the Galra Empire. The war was over, and some good food sounded like a nice way to relax from almost having lost all of creation. Giving support to the passion project of a Voltron fighter. That was a good cause too.

It was as if you were having to convince yourself that it was worth it to go. And you couldn't tell why. Everything was a reasonable price, the food was phenomenal, there were moral reasons to support the chain, and you already had a reservation. Maybe living through something like that had messed with your head. You didn't want to go somewhere where you might be reminded of it somehow. Maybe that was it.

But as you snapped out of your thoughts, you found yourself at the front desk, signing in for your reservation. The interior was nice, homely, cared for. With everything, it was obvious beyond obvious that these restaurants existed out of deep-rooted love. The next minute, you were sat. A plush chair, clean and organized tables, with a delicious looking menu. Tons of options, but not overwhelming. Explanations of dishes that weren't wordy and sounded like a perfect flavour profile. When you finally settled, you had already ordered--to a very kind alien waiter--and there was nothing left to do but wait for your food.

That's when Hunk came out from one of the back doors, chatting up tables. Small talk, mostly, asking how the food is, how the service is, how customer's days were. But occasionally getting into a proper chat. And now, Hunk was on to your table.