It smells like the food of her people, and so Gaila drifts over. She's on a meal break, so she's still dressed in her acting ensign grey, but all the colour does it make everything else pop out. Green of her skin, blue of her eyes, red of her hair. The white of her grin, because, gods, that smells nice.

"Do I have to do anything to get a plate, or can I just flutter my eyelashes and ask pretty please?"


Later:

Gaila is perched on table, happily eating the pasta and giggling to herself as she watches the delayed reactions of the (mostly human) crowd.

Really, she's tempted to go for seconds.