It took about five seconds to decide what his answer ought to be - slightly longer than it should have taken, perhaps, but the bustle of the diner covered that well enough. Their tall, brusque waiter held two sets of implements in his hands, and he was just about to repeat his question, maybe, when Fai pointed at the fork.
'You don't use chopsticks in your country, Fai-san?' said Syaoran, when the waiter had gone. And there was nothing more than interest in him, but Fai knew better than that.
Fai beamed. 'Nope! I've never seen anything like it before. They look interesting, though.' But there he switched his attention to Kurogane. He let the smile settle into a smirk. 'I bet Mr Black could give me a private lesson in our room later if I asked~!'
'I told you, it's Kurogane, and don't... I TOLD YOU TO LEAVE THAT ALONE, PORK BUN!
Syaoran ducked his head at the crash that followed. The boy was apologising even before their surly waiter returned, and Fai wondered, then, if the innuendo had gone over his head. He hoped so. He hadn't meant to say that, not quite. He'd said it without thinking - said it for the look on Kurogane's face. He wouldn't do it again, he decided firmly. And so instead he watched their waiter flip the pancake-things on the grill (well, Fai had truly never seen anything like that) and swat Kurogane's hand away from the dials.
'Can't you read the sign?' he said tersely, and Kurogane scowled at that.
'Tche. Staff only.'
The waiter scowled back. 'Staff only. That's right.'
If he'd asked Fai, Fai could've answered truthfully to that . The sign and the pancake-things and the boy with the shy smile standing at the counter: all those things were a mystery to him. But not the chopsticks. A small thing, really, but it painted a bigger picture, and that... No. Because he'd already figured out that chopsticks and this intricate scripted language belonged to the same worlds, and if Fai didn't know about one thing, why did he know the other? Tell us more about your home, Fai-san. Well, he could hear the enthusiasm in Syaoran's voice now.
Fai didn't want to tell them more about his home. The one he could never return to. He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to remember... he didn't want to remember his 14th birthday, when an ambassador sent a gift for the king's son from his new post. It was a box, inlaid with ivory and a brilliant green stone. Inside, two long tapered sticks carved from fruit wood, and Ashura-ou had gently laughed at his confusion, had guided his hands through the correct motions until Fai...
Fai closed his eyes.
(Fai didn't want to think about that. He didn't want to remember.)
When he opened them again, Kurogane had abandoned guard of the grill. He was watching Fai with cool, distrustful red eyes.
Fai smiled and reached to hook a pancake with his fork, and he wasn't doing it for the scowl that darkened Kurogane's face. Because after all, he'd already decided he wasn't doing that again.
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'You don't use chopsticks in your country, Fai-san?' said Syaoran, when the waiter had gone. And there was nothing more than interest in him, but Fai knew better than that.
Fai beamed. 'Nope! I've never seen anything like it before. They look interesting, though.' But there he switched his attention to Kurogane. He let the smile settle into a smirk. 'I bet Mr Black could give me a private lesson in our room later if I asked~!'
'I told you, it's Kurogane, and don't... I TOLD YOU TO LEAVE THAT ALONE, PORK BUN!
Syaoran ducked his head at the crash that followed. The boy was apologising even before their surly waiter returned, and Fai wondered, then, if the innuendo had gone over his head. He hoped so. He hadn't meant to say that, not quite. He'd said it without thinking - said it for the look on Kurogane's face. He wouldn't do it again, he decided firmly. And so instead he watched their waiter flip the pancake-things on the grill (well, Fai had truly never seen anything like that) and swat Kurogane's hand away from the dials.
'Can't you read the sign?' he said tersely, and Kurogane scowled at that.
'Tche. Staff only.'
The waiter scowled back. 'Staff only. That's right.'
If he'd asked Fai, Fai could've answered truthfully to that . The sign and the pancake-things and the boy with the shy smile standing at the counter: all those things were a mystery to him. But not the chopsticks. A small thing, really, but it painted a bigger picture, and that... No. Because he'd already figured out that chopsticks and this intricate scripted language belonged to the same worlds, and if Fai didn't know about one thing, why did he know the other? Tell us more about your home, Fai-san. Well, he could hear the enthusiasm in Syaoran's voice now.
Fai didn't want to tell them more about his home. The one he could never return to. He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to remember... he didn't want to remember his 14th birthday, when an ambassador sent a gift for the king's son from his new post. It was a box, inlaid with ivory and a brilliant green stone. Inside, two long tapered sticks carved from fruit wood, and Ashura-ou had gently laughed at his confusion, had guided his hands through the correct motions until Fai...
Fai closed his eyes.
(Fai didn't want to think about that. He didn't want to remember.)
When he opened them again, Kurogane had abandoned guard of the grill. He was watching Fai with cool, distrustful red eyes.
Fai smiled and reached to hook a pancake with his fork, and he wasn't doing it for the scowl that darkened Kurogane's face. Because after all, he'd already decided he wasn't doing that again.