... why are you talking about me like I'm some sort of group project. There's no professor that's gonna give you an A just because I learned to cook, you know.
[ Ever ungrateful, of course Fuuta has to snip that little retort. But it's pretty mild as far as pushback goes. There's not much he can complain about when it comes to that arrangement, after all. Fuuta sighs, then shovels his mouth full of rice, chewing and swallowing before mumbling, ]
Fine. Just give me a heads up first when you wanna do something so I don't have to say I can't come after you bought a bunch of stuff, or whatever. [ A pause before he adds, slightly stiffly: ] I'm gonna get a little more meat.
[ He doesn't usually eat this much. His appetite's been pretty come-and-go since being injured, the stress of it all probably making his stomach unwilling to handle too much heavy stuff. But -- this stuff is good. It's not just the fact that it's freshly made and piping hot. Something about it just hits right. Fuuta gets up and steps around the counter to top his bowl up with a bit more of the pork, trying to shoo away the vaguely embarrassment fluttering in his stomach as he does so. ]
But don't go thinking I'm, like, going to hold this kitchen over your head or anything, alright. I'm not that sort of slimy asshole. I'm still mad at this place for fucking with me, but ... it's not like you did it on purpose. You don't owe me anything. Just so we're clear.
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[ Ever ungrateful, of course Fuuta has to snip that little retort. But it's pretty mild as far as pushback goes. There's not much he can complain about when it comes to that arrangement, after all. Fuuta sighs, then shovels his mouth full of rice, chewing and swallowing before mumbling, ]
Fine. Just give me a heads up first when you wanna do something so I don't have to say I can't come after you bought a bunch of stuff, or whatever. [ A pause before he adds, slightly stiffly: ] I'm gonna get a little more meat.
[ He doesn't usually eat this much. His appetite's been pretty come-and-go since being injured, the stress of it all probably making his stomach unwilling to handle too much heavy stuff. But -- this stuff is good. It's not just the fact that it's freshly made and piping hot. Something about it just hits right. Fuuta gets up and steps around the counter to top his bowl up with a bit more of the pork, trying to shoo away the vaguely embarrassment fluttering in his stomach as he does so. ]
But don't go thinking I'm, like, going to hold this kitchen over your head or anything, alright. I'm not that sort of slimy asshole. I'm still mad at this place for fucking with me, but ... it's not like you did it on purpose. You don't owe me anything. Just so we're clear.