Locke had opted for a seat at the "bar", the better to watch the sushi chef carve the delicate slices of fish and seafood out of the giant blocks sitting in the display case before them. Yusuke's Sushi was tucked into one of the forgotten corners of the long forgotten Star's End spaceport in RhyDin. It was an off time for an off place, and other than a family of four sitting at a table closer to the front of the restaurant (with a view of the rather plain and sterile spaceport walkway), the place was empty. The waitress had already handed over a bowl of miso soup and a salad that was primarily lettuce, save for a few slices of carrot and a orange-colored dressing. Locke immediately started in on the salad, wielding the chopsticks like a pro.
Katarina was fiercely studying his hand and fingers to try and mimic the position of the chopsticks. Each attempt at a piece of lettuce produced twisted chopsticks and an empty mouth. She soon realized that this was going to become an epic eating disaster without proper silverware. Pursuing her lips in thought, she was about to rearrange the chopsticks in her hand when the waitress returned and promptly removed them from her hands with a simple, "Be right back." Baffled and slightly embarrassed, she gave the soup her attention instead, "Yanno, nex' time ya should tell me ta brin' a fork." It was said in tones of amusement accompanied by laughter.
Chuckling, he clicked the sticks together like a crab might with its pincers, before pointing at her. "It takes a while to get used to them, and even I am no expert. I just found a way that works well enough." He gestured towards the soup, which had a rather oversized, plastic spoon dipping into the broth, handle resting on the rim. "You could try the soup. It's liable to get cold before the salad gets warm." That statement prompted a slight grimace from Locke, as he looked at his own bowl of soup. "I always forget to ask them not to bring me soup."
She did just that, finding some scraps of her diminishing pride in the ability to use a spoon, "Mahbe ya should ask 'em ta cool it an' then try it. I's pretty good." After a few more spoonfuls, the waitress returned with her old chopsticks. Only instead, now there was a large, tightly rolled piece of paper banded between them in the back. "Wha'..?" She lifted them up for view, and found that all that was required of her was to pinch them together. She looked over her shoulder at the small family, and grinned to Locke. She leaned over slightly to whisper, "I go' th' same kin' as th' kids."
nudged his bowl her direction, the small chunks of tofu floating in the broth jiggling as he did so. "You can have mine. I will be all right without it." His eyes lingered on Katarina's set of trainer chopsticks, then he smiled, clearly bemused. "Have to start somewhere, I suppose." He stole a glance over at the family, confirming that yes, in fact, the little girl was picking up what looked like a piece of shrimp on rice with her own set of paper-bound chopsticks.
Katarina eyed the spare bowl of soup, torn between her impressed desire to finish everything and her desire to refrain from doing just that. Instead, she chuckled and tried the new chopsticks on a piece of lettuce. To her surprise, it picked it up with ease. Grateful that she was spared from further embarrassment, she went back to her soup and tried to steer attention from anything else she might accidentally do. "So, how often do ya come here?"
"About once a month or so. Not as often as earlier in the year, when I had more reason to go here. Business is rather sparse around these parts these days." Rather than use the chopsticks properly, he decided to spear a leaf of lettuce, grinning wickedly at Katarina as he did so, before he ate it.
She started to laugh, but since there was only their conversation and the occasional murmur and scolding from the small family, she covered her mouth. "I like it." Particularly the view of watching the sushi rolls being made. Her attention was diverted between that and her company. "Whay'd ya come here more of'en earlier?" Frowning and missing a connection, she motioned to her lettuce and his soup, raising her brows in a silent question of "trade?"
"It was one of the few places I could ply my trade as a gambler at. I was a little too sharp at cards for the likes of most of the casinos in the city proper." Out of nowhere, he started to laugh, before he composed himself. "I would wear this bloody ridiculous outfit, and behave like I was from another planet, and most of the blokes and birds who gamble here are from off-world, so they'd never heard of me anyways." Swiftly, Locke shifted the positions of their respective bowls so that he had two salads in front of him, and she had two soups.
She listened, captivated at the subject matter. It felt completely foreign, somehow not expected and still expected. "Wha'd ya wear? An? jist how 'xactly do ya ac' like yer fra 'notha planet? Cause yanno, there's lots'a places 'n th' 'verse, an' I jist happened ta be fra 'notha planet.'" She wiggled her brows for a moment, "An' then so wha', ya dun do tha' anymore?" Bombarding him with questions, she gave a sheepish and apologetic smile.
"I had this blue robe, and a hood-" He pantomimed putting both on. "And I would wear gloves, of course. But I pretended like I was only half-fluent in common. I refused to shake hands with anybody. In all honesty, I mostly just exaggerated my usual behaviors." The way he smiled at that moment seemed to make it clear he recognized how amusing that last statement might have been. "I gamble now and then, but it...just didn't feel like the sort of work an honest bloke does for the rest of his days. I was...trying to settle down a little." He dug into the salad he had already started, partially in an effort to hide the rueful grin that had just crossed his face.
She chuckled at his description, finding it easy to visualize Locke dressing and doing just that. She was about to ask him why he felt honest people didn't gamble so much, even though she already had an answer, when his last explanation erased the thought. She missed his rueful grin, but his instant interest in his salad gave Katarina enough cues. She was surprised to feel uneasy and slightly disappointed. So, she let the silence grow for a few moments, recovering from her surprise, and exchanged her empty soup bowl for the full one, "Hmm, sounds lik' it woulda been somethin' ta witness." Her own smile ironically appeared at her ease in changing the tone of her voice against her thoughts.
"It was quite remarkable how irate blokes would get when they thought they were losing to a foreigner, so to speak." He looked up at that moment, his eyes meeting the sushi chef's for a moment. Locke said a quick, canned phrase to the man in something other than Common or Elvish, and, with a grunt, the chef went back to work.
"I would think jist losin' 'n general could make 'em irate." She watched the interaction between the chef and Locke, her brows coming together slightly. She was finding to be far behind in her languages, "An' wha' was tha'?" Motioning between him and where the chef had previously been.
" 'Light on the wasabi.' I overheard another customer say that once, watched what the chef did, and Bob's your uncle." He shrugged, seeming to think the task of learning a phrase in a language other than the ones he was fluent in was no big deal.
At his shrug, she simply chuckled and shook her head, "Yanno, I hope I dun disappoin' ya when I hav' a hard time learnin' yer elvish. I neva was real good a' pickin' up anythin' related ta language. Ya should jist hear Jo try his Gaelic. I's a milestone ta all Smiths." Avoiding the floating tofu in the soup, she continued, "An' wha's wasabi?"
"You don't have to speak it, though. Just learn enough to say a little phrase. That seems easy enough to me." To answer Katarina's question, he pointed to the display case, where a large amount of a green paste sat, partially wrapped in plastic. "I am not quite certain what exactly it is, except that it is rather spicy. I personally do not find it very enjoyable."
She looked in the display case, taking note that it was indeed, a paste. Rather suspicious of it now, she looked to see if there was anything else to be leery about. "Yanno, I dun see many sushi places in RhyDin. So where did'cha firs' come ta try it?"
A careful study of the case contents would reveal that, in addition to what was presumably fishes of various types (with hues ranging from white to an off-orange to a red almost similar to beef), there was what appeared to be part of the tentacles of some sea beast (an octopus, perhaps?). "When I was at Uni, they had a sushi restaurant in the city. Once I figured out precisely what it was, I was ecstatic. There aren't too many restaurants that cater to those who eat cold foods."
Katarina was fiercely studying his hand and fingers to try and mimic the position of the chopsticks. Each attempt at a piece of lettuce produced twisted chopsticks and an empty mouth. She soon realized that this was going to become an epic eating disaster without proper silverware. Pursuing her lips in thought, she was about to rearrange the chopsticks in her hand when the waitress returned and promptly removed them from her hands with a simple, "Be right back." Baffled and slightly embarrassed, she gave the soup her attention instead, "Yanno, nex' time ya should tell me ta brin' a fork." It was said in tones of amusement accompanied by laughter.
Chuckling, he clicked the sticks together like a crab might with its pincers, before pointing at her. "It takes a while to get used to them, and even I am no expert. I just found a way that works well enough." He gestured towards the soup, which had a rather oversized, plastic spoon dipping into the broth, handle resting on the rim. "You could try the soup. It's liable to get cold before the salad gets warm." That statement prompted a slight grimace from Locke, as he looked at his own bowl of soup. "I always forget to ask them not to bring me soup."
She did just that, finding some scraps of her diminishing pride in the ability to use a spoon, "Mahbe ya should ask 'em ta cool it an' then try it. I's pretty good." After a few more spoonfuls, the waitress returned with her old chopsticks. Only instead, now there was a large, tightly rolled piece of paper banded between them in the back. "Wha'..?" She lifted them up for view, and found that all that was required of her was to pinch them together. She looked over her shoulder at the small family, and grinned to Locke. She leaned over slightly to whisper, "I go' th' same kin' as th' kids."
nudged his bowl her direction, the small chunks of tofu floating in the broth jiggling as he did so. "You can have mine. I will be all right without it." His eyes lingered on Katarina's set of trainer chopsticks, then he smiled, clearly bemused. "Have to start somewhere, I suppose." He stole a glance over at the family, confirming that yes, in fact, the little girl was picking up what looked like a piece of shrimp on rice with her own set of paper-bound chopsticks.
Katarina eyed the spare bowl of soup, torn between her impressed desire to finish everything and her desire to refrain from doing just that. Instead, she chuckled and tried the new chopsticks on a piece of lettuce. To her surprise, it picked it up with ease. Grateful that she was spared from further embarrassment, she went back to her soup and tried to steer attention from anything else she might accidentally do. "So, how often do ya come here?"
"About once a month or so. Not as often as earlier in the year, when I had more reason to go here. Business is rather sparse around these parts these days." Rather than use the chopsticks properly, he decided to spear a leaf of lettuce, grinning wickedly at Katarina as he did so, before he ate it.
She started to laugh, but since there was only their conversation and the occasional murmur and scolding from the small family, she covered her mouth. "I like it." Particularly the view of watching the sushi rolls being made. Her attention was diverted between that and her company. "Whay'd ya come here more of'en earlier?" Frowning and missing a connection, she motioned to her lettuce and his soup, raising her brows in a silent question of "trade?"
"It was one of the few places I could ply my trade as a gambler at. I was a little too sharp at cards for the likes of most of the casinos in the city proper." Out of nowhere, he started to laugh, before he composed himself. "I would wear this bloody ridiculous outfit, and behave like I was from another planet, and most of the blokes and birds who gamble here are from off-world, so they'd never heard of me anyways." Swiftly, Locke shifted the positions of their respective bowls so that he had two salads in front of him, and she had two soups.
She listened, captivated at the subject matter. It felt completely foreign, somehow not expected and still expected. "Wha'd ya wear? An? jist how 'xactly do ya ac' like yer fra 'notha planet? Cause yanno, there's lots'a places 'n th' 'verse, an' I jist happened ta be fra 'notha planet.'" She wiggled her brows for a moment, "An' then so wha', ya dun do tha' anymore?" Bombarding him with questions, she gave a sheepish and apologetic smile.
"I had this blue robe, and a hood-" He pantomimed putting both on. "And I would wear gloves, of course. But I pretended like I was only half-fluent in common. I refused to shake hands with anybody. In all honesty, I mostly just exaggerated my usual behaviors." The way he smiled at that moment seemed to make it clear he recognized how amusing that last statement might have been. "I gamble now and then, but it...just didn't feel like the sort of work an honest bloke does for the rest of his days. I was...trying to settle down a little." He dug into the salad he had already started, partially in an effort to hide the rueful grin that had just crossed his face.
She chuckled at his description, finding it easy to visualize Locke dressing and doing just that. She was about to ask him why he felt honest people didn't gamble so much, even though she already had an answer, when his last explanation erased the thought. She missed his rueful grin, but his instant interest in his salad gave Katarina enough cues. She was surprised to feel uneasy and slightly disappointed. So, she let the silence grow for a few moments, recovering from her surprise, and exchanged her empty soup bowl for the full one, "Hmm, sounds lik' it woulda been somethin' ta witness." Her own smile ironically appeared at her ease in changing the tone of her voice against her thoughts.
"It was quite remarkable how irate blokes would get when they thought they were losing to a foreigner, so to speak." He looked up at that moment, his eyes meeting the sushi chef's for a moment. Locke said a quick, canned phrase to the man in something other than Common or Elvish, and, with a grunt, the chef went back to work.
"I would think jist losin' 'n general could make 'em irate." She watched the interaction between the chef and Locke, her brows coming together slightly. She was finding to be far behind in her languages, "An' wha' was tha'?" Motioning between him and where the chef had previously been.
" 'Light on the wasabi.' I overheard another customer say that once, watched what the chef did, and Bob's your uncle." He shrugged, seeming to think the task of learning a phrase in a language other than the ones he was fluent in was no big deal.
At his shrug, she simply chuckled and shook her head, "Yanno, I hope I dun disappoin' ya when I hav' a hard time learnin' yer elvish. I neva was real good a' pickin' up anythin' related ta language. Ya should jist hear Jo try his Gaelic. I's a milestone ta all Smiths." Avoiding the floating tofu in the soup, she continued, "An' wha's wasabi?"
"You don't have to speak it, though. Just learn enough to say a little phrase. That seems easy enough to me." To answer Katarina's question, he pointed to the display case, where a large amount of a green paste sat, partially wrapped in plastic. "I am not quite certain what exactly it is, except that it is rather spicy. I personally do not find it very enjoyable."
She looked in the display case, taking note that it was indeed, a paste. Rather suspicious of it now, she looked to see if there was anything else to be leery about. "Yanno, I dun see many sushi places in RhyDin. So where did'cha firs' come ta try it?"
A careful study of the case contents would reveal that, in addition to what was presumably fishes of various types (with hues ranging from white to an off-orange to a red almost similar to beef), there was what appeared to be part of the tentacles of some sea beast (an octopus, perhaps?). "When I was at Uni, they had a sushi restaurant in the city. Once I figured out precisely what it was, I was ecstatic. There aren't too many restaurants that cater to those who eat cold foods."