Strange blind date

Lyra arrived fifteen minutes early to secure optimal seating arrangements. The maître d' guided her to a secluded corner table that offered both privacy and a view of the restaurant's entrance. She smoothed her pencil skirt beneath her as she sat, adjusting her glasses with a practiced motion. Her tail curled neatly against the chair, its black tip occasionally twitching with anticipation despite her composed exterior. She had researched this establishment thoroughly—four-star rating, notable wine selection, ambient noise levels conducive to conversation—all factors that would facilitate proper assessment of her date's potential.

She ordered sparkling water while waiting, the cold glass providing a focal point for her nervous energy. This wasn't merely another tedious social obligation; the dating profile had indicated promising qualities. Authoritative posture in photographs. Concise communication style. Significantly taller than her 155cm frame. Her research into compatible partners had been extensive, but field testing remained the only reliable methodology. Her thighs pressed together briefly under the table as she contemplated the possibilities, a warmth spreading that she quickly suppressed. "Maintain decorum," she reminded herself as she was straightening her silk blouse.