Teaching Lyran (Badly)

Chapter 18: Teaching Lyran (Badly)

The lingering scent of burnt sugar and Arke’s exasperated sigh hung in the air like a particularly stubborn cloud. We’d just narrowly escaped a public shaming at “The Daily Grind,” my favorite coffee shop, thanks to Arke’s attempt at ordering a “standard Earth beverage.” Apparently, in Lyran society, you don’t *ask* for things, you *state your needs with regal authority*. Who knew? Not me, and certainly not the bewildered barista whose latte art had been obliterated by a sudden, involuntary flick of Arke’s tail.

“Honestly, Sandy,” Arke huffed, smoothing his waistcoat with a paw that was a little too large for the delicate fabric, “the sheer inefficiency! Why all the pleasantries? ‘Can I have,’ ‘would you mind,’ ‘thank you so much’? It’s exhausting.”