So, Caleb had more than enough time between that class he'd... sort of taught... and the terrible life choices he was going to make this afternoon with Rosa Emily, some pink hair dye, and his Padawan braid, and he figured he probably shouldn't expect Hera to prepare every meal for him as long as he was here, so he made his way into one of the restaurants in town. The one that looked fairly approachable, in fact.

And then he stopped and kind of squinted at the specials board. Not just because it was written in High Galactic, but... at least partly because of that.

"Wait, why am I being singled out?"

He wasn't afraid of working to earn his food, but that... that was weird.