Another fear was allayed after I had put dinner on the table.
With those powerful teeth and jaws, he would have been able to
gobble his food directly from the plate. But whatever cultural
forces had operated during his people’s long climb to civiliza-
tion had apparently produced the custom of eating with utensils,
or else he had been carefully trained in their use before being
sent to negotiate with Earthlings. He manipulated the knives and
forks and used his napkin as correctly as any member of Earth’s
social upper crust could have. “I wasn’t sure your people would
use knives and forks, since your jaws and teeth haven’t shrunk
like ours,” I finally ventured.
“The custom of eating with utensils has been long established on
Ailouros,” he replied with a smile, “although our own eating
utensils are somewhat different from yours. I was trained in the
correct use of your own implements before I came here, of
course.”
After dinner, we took our liqueurs into the living room. Kontar
lit a cigar as he sat down on the couch and handed one to me.
“I’ll stick to cigarettes,” I said, motioning it away. “I tried
one of those once during my early teens and was sick as a dog for
a whole day.”
“That’s probably because you inhaled,” he replied. “Also, your
body wasn’t used to tobacco then. I brought these because
they’re just right for a beginner. Don’t inhale; just take it
into your throat and taste the flavor.”
I inhaled cautiously. “The flavor does have something to recom-
mend it,” I thought. I inhaled again when I felt no rumbles
portending an impending volcanic explosion from my stomach and
leaned back against Kontar’s muscular arm. I took a sip of my
cordial. I was conscious of the softly silken feeling of the fur
on his arm against my neck and of the powerful feline muscles
rippling beneath.