The sign said "Old Terran style poetry for sale! Custom sonnets, written for you about what you love, in GalStand! Please fill out form and provide one Hour; finished poem will be sent to you within the next ten days. 50% discount for JOATs." The human seated at the table the sign hung from had a large stack of blank forms, a couple of completed forms, several one Hour notes, a notebook, and what looked like several kinds of dictionary. They were busily scribbling in the notebook and muttering to themself, occasionally crossing things out, and frequently checking the dictionaries.
On closer inspection, one of the "dictionaries" was actually a thesaurus. -- Anon Guest
[AN: I can't write sonnets to save my life so I'm faking out of doing that]
It was a pop-up sales booth, much favoured by the nomadic sorts who sold their artistic skills wherever they could wander. They were selling Terran style poems, but they were not a Terran. They were one of the multitude of Saurian life forms abundant in the Alliance. This was not a form of cultural appropriation, since the Humans were wont to share aspects of their culture wherever they went.
This wasn't even an important part of their culture, it was merely a form of art that the Humans shared like they shared everything else. He didn't need to alert the Terran Embassy, and he especially didn't need to let Shayde know this existed. Better that she never found out.
She may be "Ace", but she had a great love of romance. The absolute last thing he needed was Shayde purchasing poetry for him. Therefore, he thought it prudent to find out how much this cogniscent needed to take their pop-up booth and their business to an entirely different station. Strictly out of a combination of the decency of his spirit and a strong self-preservation instinct, of course.