Don’t Worry  

Ba'dqeel had to bite his tongue as he waited for the Shihneanian to hurry up and make himself known.

They had been standing outside one of the restaurants in the trading station, the waitress continuing to stare at them for well over three catawrs. The Priest, as they were known to the other beings of the universe, was knowingly keeping them waiting, knowing that there was nothing Ba'dqeel and the others could do about it.

Every species, whether they believed in the old Gods or not, was to treat the Priests with reverence. Those who wouldn't quickly experience the wrath of the old Gods and might not live to see the sun.

"Sire," called out the female waitress. "Is there anything that I can do for you now?" she continued, batting her four eyes at him. Zua'the turned to look at the female. She was one of the lesser species, a Minitoque, with four eyes, four arms, and… well… four of everything.