His stomach was violently demanding to be assuaged, and Jack could not keep himself from grinning at its rude protests. No matter how embarrassing it was for it to be louder spoken than he himself. "Um," he read the waitress's name tag, but did not linger visually on looking at her chest beyond that, "Sasha. Can I get a California BLT?"
"I'm Jack, by the way, since I don't have a name tag of my own."
He grinned at Miguel, "/Think I should get myself a name tag?/"