He is squinting at the menu, hands in his pockets. It may be he needs glasses for this but he'll be damned if he's going to get them, so he's just going to try and make it out. His own familiar is by sitting by his side and a little behind, a smoky ethereal grim in the form of a whippet that would be ominous if it wasn't thumping its tail against the ground.

After a moment Alec says:

"What do you recommend?"