I sat kind of awkwardly in the chair, and he scooted into the kitchen. Â My light flickered a bit uncertainly as people started to stare. Â Why would a place like this be so full of people this late at night?
I covered my face.  Nobody’d said anything, nobody’d gotten up—they were just watching.
After about a minute, the guy came back, carrying three plates of food on a tray—chicken, pork, tofu, rice…
“I don’t have any money,” I said. Â When I’d spoken he looked at me like he just realized I hadn’t understood anything he’d said yet. Â (Sure, as a tiger I’m technically Asian, but it just doesn’t work that way.)
He gestured for me to wait and went back into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a bored-looking teenage girl in dark makeup and a black dress.
He talked on for a bit, in Chinese.
“I can’t afford this,” I said to her.
“He says it’s on the house,” she said, after translating it back to him. Â “I think he wants you to be a mascot.”