There were girls.
Lots of them.
And while they weren't necessarily all beautiful, they were looking mighty fine to Travis just the same.
He stared, a little wide-eyed, at them. They were blue, or green, or beige or brown or silver. Bald or furry or in between. Tall and short. Fat and thin.
I'm supposed to be rock climbing, he thought to himself. I came to Risa to go rock climbing.
The music started up. A moderate paced number. Not too fast, so no one would get sweaty or winded. Not too slow - after all, he didn't know any of them. It was possible that slow dancing could get him a sock in the jaw or - gawd - an unexpected sudden bride.
"Would any of you ladies care to trip the light fantastic?"
They all stared at him, and he realized that the metaphor was likely rather unclear. "Uh, dance. Do any of you want to dance?"
An interesting-looking woman approached. Instead of hair, she had what looked like flowers growing out of her scalp. She also had little wings on her back. They were likely vestigial, as they didn't seem to be large enough to carry her. He about jumped out of his skin when the flowers changed color, dipped and swirling around her head, like a floral Medusa. "Show me how you dance," she said to him, and then the translator cut out and he heard her language for a second. It was like humming sounds and clicking, a fast staccato sound.
"I beg your pardon?" he asked, taking her hand.
"I said, I've never seen your kind around here before."
"We're new," he replied as he twirled her around and the flowers floated and twisted and went through a series of pastel shades.
"Transport leaving for the rock caves!" announced a native Risan.
"That's me," he said, "I'm sorry, but I've got to go."
"This was nice. The chavecoi," she looked up and he realized that was what the flowers were called, "seem to have been especially delighted. Perhaps I will see you."
He turned to walk to the transport and then thought to himself, Travis, you fool! You can rock climb another day.
He turned back, but she was gone.