Abdullah sits like a statue, his little lizard hands folded into one another, their spindly fingers locked around one another. Finally, “I am most interested in the history of human civilization. Particularly in ancient cultures and surviving indigenous peoples.”

“Cool!” you say, because that’s actually pretty cool. Nonetheless, you find it difficult to listen to him as he sits with his chest exposed. Your eyes run up and down his scaly bod. For a saur, he’d be considered a bit chubby. His legs are so short and low to the ground that his feet stick out to either side of his chair.

The server shows up to drop off a menu. You pick it up, looking for a meal that you can eat that would also please Abdullah. The Saurian Selection has all kinds of slabs of spiced raw meat. Mostly pork. “So Abs,” you ask, eyeing the raw salmon filet, “What’re you getting?”

“I have selected the Ham Hunk.”

“Hunk?”

He pointed a long finger to the menu. It was a big ol’ hunk of uncooked ham, warmed to body temperature. You look up to see him displaying a mouthful of razor sharp teeth. A deliberate effort to smile like a human.

You shoot him one back. “I’m getting salmon sushi.”

“I do not believe this establishment serves japanese cuisine.”

“No, but it has raw salmon. That’s like, pretty much sushi.”

“I see.”

He’s totally impressed, you decide. You lean back and prop your arm up on the booth back, which is kinda awkward since these booths are so tall, so you’ve just like, got your hand up there. Whatev’s. “Yeah,” you say, “I tend to eat stuff raw all the time. Cookie dough especially—”

“I have changed my mind.” Abdullah says. “I will also have raw salmon filet.”

You nod, as if you’ve already had it here before. “Sweet,” you say.

“Yes.”

A creeping three minutes goes by without event or conversation. Then the server shows up to take orders. The server prompts you for a beverage, and after a quick scan through the saurian selection you order a glass of fish blood. Abdullah orders a vanilla chai latte. You rapidly change your order just before the server leaves.

“So Abs,” you blurt, “what do you like to do for fun?”

“My recreation is conversing with humans, drinking chai tea, and reading primary documents of history.”

“Wow, I love doing at least one of those things!” You scoot further, taking your hand off the back of the booth. “How often do you drink chai?”

“Six times, every day. It is my only weakness.”

“Gee you must really like chai tea.”

“It is a rather strong addiction, but I am not ashamed of it.” He sits silent for a beat. “I much prefer it to hookah.”

“Me too.” You’ve never tried hookah, but would love to. “Hookah’s just, bleh.”

“It is quite harsh on my larynx, but the flavor is quite pleasant otherwise.”

“Totally.” New subject. “So, what’s your favorite thing about humans?”

“They are capable of original thought.” His transparent eyelids blink. “Also they do not mock my addiction to chai tea. I am quite the xenophile.”

“Really…?” you purr. “Would you ever, like, I dunno, kiss a human?”

“I am incapable of kissing, but I have made an attempt none the less.”

“Ever fallen in love?”

“No.”

“Ever… wanted to sleep with someone?”

“I sleep with humans frequently when in cold or temperate climates.”

You perk right the fuck up to that. “Yeah?” you ask feverishly. “You got someone to sleep with tonight? It’s like, gonna be cold. I heard it on the weather channel” you don’t watch tv

Abdullah stares for a moment. “No. I have been utilizing an electric heat pad as of late. They are most convenient, but I find them unreliable in the event of a local brown out.”

“Well…” your palms are sweaty. “If you—”

The smell of fish overpowers your nostrils as a plate of salmon flesh is clunked down right in front of you. The colorful scales are still attached to the vibrant red meat. If your ex were here he’d doubtlessly make a comment on the filet’s color. You glance up at Abdullah, banishing Turbo from your thoughts again. Now’s the last time you wanna think of that dweeb.

Abdullah has already bent his neck down to tear a slab of salmon with his sharp row of saw teeth. Gracefully, he swallows it whole, not once even touching the meat with his hands or utensils.

You do the same, minus the grace. Your face comes up with the shine of fish juices running up and down your nose. Bits of reddish pink flesh stick to the sides of your mouth. The flavor is very strong. Could use some rice, or seaweed or heck anything on the side, but this dish is just a big ol’ hunk of meat with nothing on it. Oh well, when in rome…

“Ah hem.” Abdullah deliberately imitates a human throat-clear. “You have chosen to neglect your eating utensils. I fail to see the purpose.”

“Oh, y’know,” you say, licking your cheeks. “I prefer eating this way. Easier, and feels more right.”

Abdullah says nothing, staring at you. You watch his elongated reptilian pupils run up and down your face, which is starting to flush with salmon tint in growing self consciousness. Then, “I see. Please excuse me. I will not further question your customs.” He bent for another bite, making it look as natural as scratching one’s nose.

You consider going down again too, but… it’s just raw salmon with nothing on it. Not really bad-tasting, but after that first big mouthful your stomach has been growing somewhat disgruntled. Plus you can practically feel the other restaurant patrons watching you, whether or not anyone even noticed.

“Eh,” you say as you reach for a napkin. “I think I’m full.”

Chai tea arrives in front of both of you. Abdullah sips his with an exaggerated head-tilt characteristic of saurians. You lean your head way back too, lifting the steaming tea cup to your chin and slurping it tentatively. As your head comes back you find Abdullah leaning over half the table, eyes trained onto yours.

“Where are you from?”

You mutter your exact mail address and zip code, and list off any other places you might’ve lived before.

“I see.” Abdullah leans back. “I am familiar with the cultural subtleties of many of those locations, but I am not familiar with the display you have given me.”

He’s noticed. “I, y’know, it’s just the way I…” there’s no getting out of it. He’s got you in a box. “I’ll come clean, Abs. I wanted to get you to like me, so I did things like a saurian would to impress you.”

“I do not understand. Please explain the necessity of my favor.”

“I wanna sleep with you tonight.”

“Very well, you may accompany me to bed.”

Ah! This is happening! “R-really!?”

“I am most intrigued by your urgency to please me, and wish to observe this behavior to study its means.”

“Cool,” you say, looking anything but.

Abdullah insists on paying for everything, you box your salmon filet, and both of you take a trolley to a quaint but respectable apartment complex. Along the way you admit that you’ve been meaning to somehow coax him into taking you home with him. He admits this is rather unusual, but is purely curious of your endeavor and not even a little bit weirded out.

His apartment smells strongly of incense and old books. You follow his long, bejeweled tail past a wall of tomes and actual scrolls of parchment. He wasn’t kidding about reading primary documents. He first fixes himself a cup of chai in the kitchen, whose ceiling is liberally decorated with strung sticks of cinnamon. You accept a cup to be polite, then follow him to his bedroom.

The bed is an enormous gold pillow with a maroon comforter on top. Abdullah removes his robe and turban, revealing his long lizard body for a brief moment. Your eyes flick straight to his balls because you’re only human. They’re just a couple shallow lumps protruding from his scaly crotch region. Then he slips into a pair of poofy green pants, and sits down into the bed facing you. “Please join me. I can provide guest sleepwear should you need any.”

You accept, stripping your totally rad 90’s memorabilia outfit in exchange for a pair of big poofy yellow pants. Guess I’ll be sleeping topless, you think, not really caring. You take a seat next to Abdullah, and the bed that’s a pillow causes you to slide right down next to him.

“Before sleep,” he says, not lowering his voice, “I usually enjoy reading government documents from centuries ago.”

“Not gonna lie…” you start, when you realize that as boring as any historic document may be, hearing it read aloud in Abdullah’s excessively polite indian accent would make them infinitely more interesting. Besides, you’re a bit distracted at the moment by the fact that your bare skin is touching his bare scales, and they’re very soft. And refreshingly cold in the heat of the apartment. He must have the thermostat cranked high.

“However for this night I will instead do whatsoever you desire, so as not to interrupt your curious plot.”

“A-any… thing?”

He dips his head in a nod.

Agh. Your mouth is dry. ANYthing, his reptilian eyes say, especially that thing you’ve been wanting done all evening. You eye his poof pants, you eye your poof pants, then you run your view along Abdullah’s mouth. From this close, you notice his razor teeth kinda stick out a bit from his upper jaw. You imagine his clammy lizard tongue against the tender flank of your thigh, and shiver a bit.

You part your lips. “Watch cat videos” you blurt. Fuck, no!

Abdullah reaches a plain black laptop from an end table, brushing a couple crumbling fragments of parchment off the top of it, and brings it between your laps. His pencil-thin fingers fly across the keyboard, typing at literally inhuman speed. You don’t recognize the symbols on the keys, nor the matching characters appearing fast as copy-paste in the youtube search bar. All the same, a compilation of cats jumping into toilets comes up. Too late now, you think, hating yourself.

Five minutes in, you’re giggling at the stupid wet cats. Abdullah watches silently, occasionally sipping his chai tea. “The purpose of these videos alludes me,” he says.

You point at the number of views.

“I see. I understand now.”

After cats, you watch cute snake baby videos, then a youtube poop of the presidential debate, and so on. Abdullah watches each video to the end, commenting politely and thoughtfully, no matter how stupid the video. At some point you mention that you’re actually starving and that the salmon in the fridge is not gonna cut it. Abdullah fixes you up a quick dish of cinnamon curry and vegetables while you leaf through the ancient books in his bedroom.

Forty minutes to midnight, you’re feeling sleepy and resigned. Abdullah lowers the thermostat, then lifts the comforter so you can get in. Since the whole bed’s a pillow, there’s no clear orientation. You just kinda crawl in, and stick you head out near the end table. Abdullah scrambles in with you, wrapping his cold-blooded body around you. The coolness of his touch is relieving. The only sound is the flow of the wall heater.

“Thank you for accompanying me to sleep,” he says to your ear, still not lowering his voice.

You hesitate, then nuzzle him a bit. “I’m the one that wanted to.”

“It would seem we have a symbiotic relationship.” God he’s loud.

You nod in the dark, fondling his tail absently. A moment passes. “So, did you ever find out what I really wanted?”

“I believe it was fornication.”

“Yyyy… you’re not like, weirded out or nothing?”

“I am flattered and intrigued.” He rests his chin on your head.

“Okay.” You hear the heat shut off.

Silence.

“Honestly,” you say, “I thought that’s what I wanted, but now I think this is better.”

He doesn’t answer, having fallen asleep.