It’s probably some sort of twisted irony that you asked Matcha to lunch. You’re half surprised she accepted; you thought she might still be too afraid to go anywhere with you. Granted, you’re sure she has a weapon, and you’re sure Rivali is going to ask her for a report when she returns; but you have to admit, it’s a novelty for someone to want to chat with you in person, knowing the truth.
You can’t properly eat anything, of course, but you can order drinks and mix blood in. You still have some of the disappointingly small blood vials Rivali gave you, ones you’ve managed to save thanks to Matcha’s gifts.
You specifically asked for a table in the corner, nowhere anyone else, so that there’s less chance of someone catching you at it. It’s unlikely that drinker hunter is still hanging around Neuja, but you can never be too careful.
It’s a cute place, serving East Alternian food, with decorations of that region’s local subspecies of dragon and other mythical creatures.
“You know, I wonder why we call such different varieties of creature ‘dragons’. These ones aren’t winged, and they have whiskers and manes. They don’t resemble most highblood lusus strains at all. Probably one of those linguistic catchalls we got stuck with back during the Imperial Unification era.”
