He was the same as ever. The same homunculus; the same Sieg, the same fake Saber of Black. A little smaller then what Mordred remembered, though – she recalled him being taller, a little fuller of figure. Maybe she was projecting. Or maybe he’d lost weight since last time. It was hard to tell, and something she had little interest in – so, naturally, it was forgotten. Pushed down for another day, another time.
Mordred eyed him over her shoulder, squinting slightly. At least he knew to keep his distance, and let her pick where to go. Huh. Maybe he wasn’t completely thick after all. “Think you can get on my good side through food, huh?” She kicked a stone along the path ahead and grinned, sharp-toothed and proud. “… Good choice.”
Turning the corner, the street opened out to a variety of stores: bakeries and restaurants, a few cafes with frills and curled writing on their windows and an errant food cart on the corner. “Alright, let’s see what we’ve got…” Pivoting slowly, Mordred surveyed with her eyes and nose – the sweet aroma of baked foods and roast meat, hot bread and sugar. She had complaints about the city, but their choice of food was something she could get behind.
Then, there. She saw it. The one she wanted.
“Churros!” Mordred laid a hand on Sieg’s shoulder and shook, pointing at a tiny cafe on the corner. The word ‘fresh churros with sugar’ was painted in blue acrylic across the window. “Hey, Sieg! Those ones! Let’s go there, c’mon!!”
Rather then wait for a reply, Mordred dragged him across the street (her hand still gripping his shoulder without realising) and slammed the money across the counter. In return, the server placed six, freshly made churros onto the counter.
“Yes, perfect! Haha! You ever tried these before?” She turned and eyed Sieg, incredulously. No, probably not. “… Well, here’s your first taste.”
Supposedly, thanks to the limited experiences he had prior to isolation, he’d gotten used to being pushed around by Servants—resistance was futile—not that it was necessary in this situation, but even if it was, even the dimmest lifeforms would be able to conclude that struggling would only bring more pain, given how obvious the difference was in their strength.
(Even so, Rider was a bit gentler than this.)
One moment, he was pulled along by her momentum, and in the next, he was presented with today’s sustenance. (So this is the fabled churro…—no, he hadn’t even heard of its existence before this. He still had much to learn about the outside world.) ❝ This is my first time… yes, thank you, Saber of Red. ❞ He had no reasons to bite the hand that fed him, that was a given, but he hoped Saber of Red didn’t care to expect much of a reaction out of him afterward… not because he was hoping to give off the impression of being ungrateful (considering its lack of nutrition and whatnot) but because it was unlikely he would even be able to taste it, being a defect and all.
Being freshly made, heat emanated clearly from the pastry, so he had to wait for some time to pass before tasting. One bite into the fried dough was enough to confirm the lack of taste to be savored, but he wasn’t disappointed, as he had expected this outcome—no matter how much sugar was used, in the end, the most he would be able to get out of it would be its texture and temperature. He wasn’t disappointed, no… even if he wouldn’t ever be able to grasp at an understanding of why Saber of Red was so pleased with her purchase, or why she ate so much despite being a regular Servant, for that matter.
❝ Come to think of it, you usually eat a lot, despite being a Servant... ❞
