Scott had gotten used to the ponies, at least to the point where they didn't seem all that weird any more. He could mostly tell male from female, often before they even spoke, and he'd learned to abbreviate the list of specials to avoid anything meat-based, unless it was fish and pegasi, griffons, or hippogriffs were asking.
He knew that the unicorns would almost always use silverware, while the other ponies preferred not to, he knew that the plain ponies drank like champions, and that the bat-winged ones didn't like being near light if they could avoid it.
The new arrival, however, stumped him. Its face looked feminine, but it had a lion's mane and tail. Its horn was curved and had little branches off it, more like a deer antler. Its head and back were covered with what looked like some kind of scale armor, although it flexed as the pony moved.
He took a moment to gather his thoughts, then picked up a menu and walked over to its table. “Good evening, I'm Scott, and I'll be your server tonight.” He set the menu politely on the table. “Do you know what you want to drink tonight?”
The pony shook its head.
“Ah, well, we have a list of our drinks right here.” He handed her a card.
He thought he'd seen all the weird ways that ponies held things, but he hadn't anticipated its forehooves opening slightly, almost like crab pincers. If the pony had sliced off a corner of the drink list, that wouldn't have surprised him at all, but the list remained intact.
Even though he could have left it alone to decide, he didn't have very many tables, and wanted to be ready to answer questions. Most of the ponies had had questions their first time at the restaurant, and while he was no expert with the wines, he had a decent familiarity with the other drinks on the menu.
“Huh.” It was the first thing he'd heard the pony say, and it had a feminine lilt to it.
“Do you have a question?” He almost added 'ma'am,' but decided it was still safer to not.
She set the drinks list down before pointing with a hoof. “There's a drink here named after me!”
“Oh, really?” That was an interesting conversation starter, and people and ponies always seemed to tip better if they had conversations with their waiter, so long as the conversation steered clear of sports or politics.
“Yeah, Ginger Mojito, that's my name.”
He nodded. “That's a good drink—would you like me to bring you one while you decide on your dinner order?”