*She indicates the direction with a tilt of her head, turning and setting a brisk pace. As promised, the walk isn't far--a block or two--to a sidewalk cafe whose sign is a harp that seems to have caught stars among its strings, like a very musical (and orderly) spiderweb. Horned, goat-legged humanoids move among the tables, taking orders or presenting them, and the blond woman seems well-enough known there that one waves a greeting to her. As the tables and chairs there weren't designed with krogans in mind, however, they might be better off ordering something to go from the counter inside. This time of day, there isn't much of a line, though there is always a little bit, at least.*
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