@vsagis cont. bc
That automatically makes it better, the villain repeats to himself in his thoughts, lips quirking up at the corners until there’s a big, warm smile lighting up his face. It doesn’t matter that Blake can’t see it; he doesn’t have to, Izuku is sure of it. They can long understand each other without words.
They truly do, and that’s why he doesn’t feel bad when he seems to ignore the other’s comment about local cuisine. It’s not like it’s untrue, and Blake did say that Izuku already knows that, after all. “Yeah,” he hums after a moment, feeling that small pang of guilt still forcing him to say something in the end. “You don’t seem like you hate it, though, or you would be relying on different foods much more.
The corners of his lips turn down slightly in confusion. “Why... would I hate seasoned food?” he asks, the question more of a statement than anything. “I grew up with food that the smell alone from the spices would kill a small victorian child.” Of course, he was talking about his grandparent’s recipes they had brought from India, and his own mother’s cooking from her travels. A thought passes through his head, causing him to chuckle quietly. That thought was for a different time.
“How long ‘til the car gets here again?” He doesn’t remember if Izuku said how long it’d be. “We need to get one of those smart fridges that you can see inside from your phone. How am I supposed to know if we have stuff to make my grandmother’s idli?”