Kid. Naoto’s lips twitched upon hearing the word, a twinge of irritation flaring up before he forced it aside. It wasn’t the first time he had been called that, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Allowing himself to be distracted from his food, the case, and the problem at hand by a single word would be unprofessional. Naoto was a detective, intelligent and well-practised at ignoring rude comments, not an immature child incapable of focusing for a single moment.
Really, this was exactly the type of language – and person – that Naoto should have expected from an establishment such as this one. Kidnappings and murders aside, Inaba’s crime rate was usually rather low. Of course the single place which attracted the vast majority of those crimes would have such an inelegant person working there. Still, anyone who saw so many questionable individuals likely to know information that would be difficult to find elsewhere.
Naoto had had a craving for noodles, anyhow.
He tilted his head back, meeting the chef’s gaze (or so he assumed, judging by the apron) with a quiet confidence. No matter how distracted he was, Naoto would not allow this individual to get under his skin.
“That I may be,” he began, voice cool. “Nonetheless, this is not the meal I ordered. I requested a tonkotsu ramen. I believe this is an udon.” Naoto gave the meal a pointed glance before offering a polite, though tense smile. “I do not mean to impose upon you, I simply wish to eat the meal which I asked for. Would that be possible?”
–He could deal with questioning the chef once he had a stomach full of food. Hunger made it difficult to think clearly, and with a case as serious as this one, Naoto had no room to make mistakes.
‘Aren’t we a little sensitive.’
Lips threatened to curl in amusement as Akito caught a glimpse of the other’s reaction to the title. This squirt was either quite self-assured or extremely insecure - he couldn’t tell which just yet. Neither answer seemed interesting enough for the chef, so he wouldn’t press the matter.
At least, not until he had a good reason to. He still wanted to know what exactly had brought this boy to Souper Noodle, as the establishment’s reputation more than preceded it. Was this a dare? Did the kid actually have balls of steel under those pants?
Deciding to play the part of the dispassionate delinquent employee for now, Akito lazily met the teen’s gaze. Ceruleans nearly rolled back into his head as he forced himself to listen to the mouthy, overly formal request. Hold on, wait - I can feel it now--
Nice! The brunet hadn’t even bothered to cover his mouth with his hand for that one. After making sure to leave the longest possible pause without appearing to actually ignore the request, he reached down to swipe the bowl of udon in a wide motion. Once the wrong order was collected, he finally replied.
“Yeah, sure. Whatever you want. I’ll even throw in an eggstra serving of meat, perfect for a boy in puberty. Wait patiently, like you have all afternoon.”
Without waiting for a reply, Akito strode back into the kitchen.
Another jarring crash heralded the chef’s return some ten minutes after he vanished (during which interim no other customers had come into the establishment), a pair of bowls balanced on a tray in his hands. With what might have been a surprising amount of grace he lowered the tray next to the table before sliding over a bowl of tonkotsu ramen whose smell could only be described as mouth-watering.
“Enjoy your meal,” ...is what should have followed, perhaps coupled with an apology for the mistaken order. Yet neither of these words left the chef’s mouth as he proceeded to unload a second bowl - one filled with thick wheat noodles covered in a pasty black sauce - onto the table next to Naoto’s.
Then Akito sat down, cracking a pair of chopsticks apart before digging them into his bowl and stirring. After a few seconds, he glanced over.
“Oh, yeah. Bon appetit or something. And don’t mind me - I’m on my lunch break. My second lunch break to be precise, so don’t tell my boss. Go on, eat up.”
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