She nods. "Fancy sommat spicy, I think. Maybe Indian or Korean or something reminiscent. Got a recommendation?"

"I've gotten a bit too used to immortal foods to have too many recommendations, but I'm a little fond of the ghee rice and most of the curry options." 

"Cheers. See you in a few, then. Got walking directions or should I just wait for a port?"

"I'll teleport you now." 

She taps at her keyboard quickly, and then she's gone in a blink. 

This food court is marble-white, with a vast domed ceiling with softly diffusing sunlight streaming down into the space. All across the walls are countless stalls bristling with signs and activity behind the counters, machines churning and produce proudly laid out in racks, laid out in stacked streets on the outskirts of the atrium. Inside the walls, there's a vibrant green garden and rows of granite-clad tables, each with a small console set in the center, with neon-blue lines set in the floor around each table stall, filling out the airy space. 

Well this looks lovely. She takes a stroll past the stalls on the edges, just browsing for the moment.

There's rows and rows of fragrant rices kept warm in one stall, while the other has posterboards and a more industrial look, the kitchen peeking through past the solid wall of signs. A handful of people mill about in and out of line. There's a orcish paladin in half-dull metal armor staring in thought at the wares, an elvish sorceress standing back and waiting, and a two cute fox boys flirting with each other at the front of the line. 

Well this looks right lovely. She gets into line to collect a plate of particularly tasty-smelling ghee rice, and looks around to see where the curries will be after she gets this.

There's a lineless hypermodern stall, all clean polished wood and screens, and just past it a steampunk stall bedecked in bronze and brass, with a chalkboard advertising its fares. 

Ah, good, there those are.

She considers, for a long moment, what it would be like to chat up someone else in line.

It feels almost possible, now, rather than vividly stressful, but her nerves are still on edge at the thought.

Yeah, probably not. She waits, takes her rice gratefully, and heads over to the curry.

She's probably missing opportunities to get to know coworkers here, but she's still getting over her issues.

Approaching someone is just too much.

Off to the curry.

There's a steampunk-looking place, all brass and wood, with a large brass counter covered in hot trays of food and boilers steaming away beneath them. There's also another one that looks more corpo-chic, like a starbucks or sommat, all wood paneling and modern styling.

She heads toward the steampunk place.

As soon as she steps up to the threshold of the stall, faint ticking and whirring fills the air, and little whooshing sounds of steam jetting from boilers. Richly spiced aromas of various curries waft to her nose.

Oh this is nice.

She heads up to the counter, where clockwork robots ladle out helpings of curry, and selects an unfamiliar but delicious-smelling one.

And then off she goes, finding a table and sitting down to dig in.

There's a bunch of tables with different stylings, mostly heavy wooden picnic tables and polished slabs of stone in various different circular and rectangular shapes. Beside each one, there's a pole with a display nestled atop it, showing the options for the privacy fields - an invisibility and quieting field, amongst other options like one for managing the ambient light and smells - and a broad selection of table service options. 

Huh, neat.

After a long moment, she decides against the privacy options. That's as much of a concession to the possibility of meeting people as she can make, though.

She does order a spiced cider to drink, though. And a water.

In a haze of cerulean blue light, a fragrant foamy cider and water - complete with a lemon garnish - materialize on the center of her table atop corkboard coasters. 

She takes a sip, savoring it, and digs in. The spices are alien, as she hoped, but very satisfying. Curry is one of those things that countless worlds must invent in parallel, and it's great to try a different variant. She'll have to look up what seasonings they used later.

A woman wearing polished steel armor walks over, a hand raised up in a tentative wave, a thermos dangling on her belt alongside a sword. 

"Hey. Mind me popping by? You look like the kind of newbie that might appreciate an experienced ear." 

Hailey looks up, surprised. 

Bloody hell. She didn't exactly expect anyone to show up.

After a slow breath, though, she nods. "Yeah, that'd be good. 'M certainly new at this."

She swings her leg up around the back of one of the chairs, and plopping herself down in it with a bit of a comfortable slouch. 

"Let me guess - just off your first mission, maybe your first real fight, and you're feeling a bit rattled after the whole ordeal?" 

"Aye, that's the size of it," she confirms with a nod. "Ever fought before, but not with other blood than my own on the scales."

"That's always an awkward hump to climb, yeah. Lives are heavy things, and it always feels heavier in your hands when your own life is changing, too." 

She pops up her thermos and takes a deep swig of her drink - a nice steamy hot chocolate, from the look of it. 

Hailey takes a couple bites of curry and a sip of cider, nodding. "Man I saved today, in my original world he died in that event. He was—is a civil rights leader, changed a lot of lives even with just the time he had in my old world. If I bollocksed this up today, he would've died in that mission world, too. All those possibilities would be gone."