'Fine.' Yuri's got his voice under control now, at least. Which is more than can be said for his stomach, judging by the ominous rumbles that have started percolating again. (Obviously, it was hunger and frustration that had made him sound so strange a moment ago.) So without another word, he turns on his heel and heads back to the bar, trusting (trusting?) that Katsudon will follow him.
It's easier to walk away from the door than it had been to walk towards it.
Before anything else, he swipes his phone off the bar and stuffs it straight into his jacket pocket. But as he takes his seat again, he studies the now-cold spread of food in front of them, and frowns a little before pushing all of the half-eaten bowls and used chopsticks to one side and putting a hand on the bar top. 'Could I, uh, have two bowls of that same noodle thing I had before -- only with less vegetables on it?'
The requested dishes that appear are similar in size to the rice bowls from earlier, smaller than the massive bowl of noodles that Yuri had originally ordered. The scattering of steamed vegetables on top, carrots and broccoli and soybeans, look less like haphazard piles and more like manageable, sensible dinner portions. The whole thing is still a bowl of mostly carbohydrates, but nowhere near as heavy or greasy as something like yakisoba. The light sesame sauce that keeps the noodles from clumping together has a faint scent of ginger and citrus in it now, just enough to keep the dish from seeming too plain. And this time, they both have sets of proper wooden chopsticks next to the bowls, and even a matching pair of wooden chopstick rests.
(Like an actual meal. Like something intentional.)
Yuri doesn't move to pick up his chopsticks, though. As before, he's going to wait and watch.
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It's easier to walk away from the door than it had been to walk towards it.
Before anything else, he swipes his phone off the bar and stuffs it straight into his jacket pocket. But as he takes his seat again, he studies the now-cold spread of food in front of them, and frowns a little before pushing all of the half-eaten bowls and used chopsticks to one side and putting a hand on the bar top. 'Could I, uh, have two bowls of that same noodle thing I had before -- only with less vegetables on it?'
The requested dishes that appear are similar in size to the rice bowls from earlier, smaller than the massive bowl of noodles that Yuri had originally ordered. The scattering of steamed vegetables on top, carrots and broccoli and soybeans, look less like haphazard piles and more like manageable, sensible dinner portions. The whole thing is still a bowl of mostly carbohydrates, but nowhere near as heavy or greasy as something like yakisoba. The light sesame sauce that keeps the noodles from clumping together has a faint scent of ginger and citrus in it now, just enough to keep the dish from seeming too plain. And this time, they both have sets of proper wooden chopsticks next to the bowls, and even a matching pair of wooden chopstick rests.
(Like an actual meal. Like something intentional.)
Yuri doesn't move to pick up his chopsticks, though. As before, he's going to wait and watch.