" but , I relate to the fella' ! I do ! you love to experiment on me ! " he guffaws , tripping down the rain - slick asphalt as he guides them across the street , smiling ear to ear . " now , i'm not gonna say half the time I don't enjoy it , but you keep ordering me shiokara and i'll have to change my mind on the subject . "
he spots a homey looking little restaurant a few miles away , electric blue neon buzzing by it's door — and thinks promptly of cozying up at a merry , walking distance from the hotel to have a fragrant bowl of ramen . ah , but his little pet freak craves something more debauched yet , something with a more complex bouquet in matters of poison , and his face twists up in immediate , skeptic disgust .
" that cannot be good for you . the toxins could — what if they give you a tummy ache ? huh ? you can't even digest rice , and you wanna eat poisonous eel . "
but the look on his face has already begun to betray him — that inevitable crack in the facade , the twitch at the corners of his mouth that means he’s losing the argument to sweet , all - promising curiosity , and affection , and a general feeling of ' oh , fuck it , what the hell , whatever you want ' .
" ugh . mm , fine . we'll find somewhere like that . "
how easy , when all is so foreign , to dive into their very own otherness . to wear it as a cloak . and , all of a sudden , the questioning gazes and the whispered tidbits of machismo - fueled old school disdain mean nothing at all . literally . he wouldn't know , since he doesn't speak the language , and these middle aged men's disapproval — even if obvious — towards his choice in lifelong companion brings him no true heartache ; because they don't remind him of his father. hand entwining with theirs , briefly , and lifting it to his mouth for a long , self-indulgent kiss . he does this when he wants , most of all , to smell them — the rich , sweet scent of their pampered palms . bergamot handcream , too , complimentary of the hotel .
" i'm really craving some dessert , too . real dessert . mochi isn't dessert — the texture bothers me ! "