[pfsb]

[acrookedpath]

Wei Wuxian's notes have long been a haphazard disaster, and it has reached a point where he knows he's circling a revelation, missing only one or two key parts, and said parts are probably lying half-forgotten in a notebook he thought he'd reserved for another project entirely. In theory, he is trying to dig through everything to organize it a little better.

In theory.

In practice, however, Wei Wuxian is staring out the window with his chin in his hand, and he hasn't touched the papers scattered across his table for about two hours. He's too busy smiling an absolutely foolish smile at nothing in particular.

It has been a very good couple of days.

Comments

[we_bring_hell]

"Both a true companion and a lover, then. You are doubly blessed, Wei Wuxian. As is he."

"What a lovely and extraordinary surprise that none could have foreseen."

[acrookedpath]

Wei Wuxian snorts, too happy to be anything other than amused.

"Reverend Daughter, I fear you may be mocking me," he says, with as much mock gravitas as he can muster when he is struggling not to laugh. "But it is deserved. I will bear it as I must."

He beckons to one of the waitrats; it immediately scurries over to take their order.

[we_bring_hell]

"I promised to eat a meal of your choosing," Harrow reminds him. "But have a care with your spices; I have someone to avenge me, now."

[acrookedpath]

"No chili oil," he promises with another laugh. "I do not wish to be on the wrong end of Gideon's sword. She's as skilled as you claimed."

No chili oil for Harrow, anyway. He will get his customary pot and upend the whole thing on his meal, as is only just and proper.

"Er kuai with chicken and -- " He runs through his mental catalogue of foods Lan Zhan would be able to tolerate. "Steamed stuffed tofu? And tea. And wine! Thank you."

The rat squeaks and scurries away.

[we_bring_hell]

"What is tofu?" she asks. "Chickens are known to me--at least in legend--but I don't think I have heard of tofu."

[acrookedpath]

"Ah -- it is a bean curd," he explains, not nearly as well as he thinks he has. "Soft, little flavor on its own, but it takes on the flavors around it very well. So if the stuffed tofu is too much, we can ask for plain tofu as well."

The idea of which makes Wei Wuxian's own tastebuds weep -- but if nothing else, he supposes, the more flavorless food other people eat, the more spicy food is left for him!

[we_bring_hell]

"Ahh--my understanding is that we tried beans on the Ninth, but they could not be bred to withstand the cold. How intriguing."

[acrookedpath]

"Soybeans do not do well even in the early spring," he agrees, "from what I understand. But I am not a farmer."

Soon enough, the waitrat scurries back with two dishes, one significantly paler than the other. They're accompanied by a large bowl of rice, a pot of tea with two small cups, and a white ceramic wine bottle.

And chili oil, because by now, both Madam Bar and the waitrats know Wei Wuxian orders that with everything.

[we_bring_hell]

"To be the Reverend Daughter is to be a little bit of everything; farmer, diplomat, counselor, undertaker, doctor, pastor, judge and legislator."

She regards the eating sticks cautiously, and resolves to wait and imitate Wei Wuxian.

[acrookedpath]

Wei Wuxian, for his part, takes a moment to portion out the rice and pour tea for both of them. "To satisfactory conclusions," he says with a fresh grin, raising his cup to her.

Only after that's done does he smother his food in the spicy oil and dig in.

[we_bring_hell]

"To forgiveness," she says. The tofu is pleasantly bland, although she's not sure about the texture.

"Quite good," she says. She is less pleased with the chicken dish, but she's trying.

[acrookedpath]

He can appreciate the effort! Considering the chicken is more to his own taste, albeit far less spicy, he is marveling she tolerated it even briefly.

"There are desserts we could try as well," he offers, taking a sip of tea. "They are sweet, but not nearly as sweet or rich as milkshakes."

[we_bring_hell]

"I would be willing," she says. "We had a bargain."

Let it never be said that the Ninth House fails to pay its debts.

"Besides... perhaps I should... expand my tastes."

[acrookedpath]

"Perhaps we should get two desserts, then," he says thoughtfully. "Let me see..."

He drums his fingers on the table, thinking, then brightens and waves down another waitrat. "Jian dui and tanghulu! I think you may like those -- the tanghulu has much more sugar, but only on the outside."

[we_bring_hell]

"All right," she says glumly.

"How do you cope with the intensity of your chili oil?" she asks. "I can manage at most one spoonful of shaken milk, but you and Gideon gulp them down."

[acrookedpath]

"I have always enjoyed spicy food," he says with a shrug. "Not this spicy, perhaps, when I was very young, but it has never bothered me the way it may bother others. And I lived somewhere that did not shy away from flavor -- if I grew up in Gusu Lan, I doubt my tongue would survive this or a milkshake."

He gestures to the food before him.

[we_bring_hell]

That doesn't help; Gideon grew up on the same dusty, flavorless, loveless planet.

"Mm."

[acrookedpath]

Sadly, Wei Wuxian's skill in translating Lan Zhan's monosyllablic responses does not carry over to Harrow's.

"But expanding your tastes does not have to mean you eat an entire jar of chili oil right away, or drink the biggest milkshake you can find with -- " He ladders a hand upward. "Whipped cream this high and twenty cherries on top. It can be a spoonful. It can be a little extra spice, not even the strongest chilis. And when you grow used to that, then you add a little more. And then more."

[we_bring_hell]

"Perhaps," she says, some little comforted.

"But what if... my reaction to the little more makes people hesitate to offer it again?"

[acrookedpath]

...Are they still talking about food? Wei Wuxian isn't certain they are talking about food any longer.

"They may hesitate because they do not want to see you discomforted," he says, with a bit more caution than before. Just in case this isn't about food. "But if you make it plain that you are trying, and wish to try again -- then I hope they would be patient with you. And if they are not, that is their fault, not yours."

[we_bring_hell]

Harrow isn't sure, either. "I wish my reactions were not... inappropriate to the stimulus. It would be simpler."

How dare her body do anything she doesn't tell it to?

[acrookedpath]

"Perhaps." Gentler. "But the body can be trained. It does not always have to react as it does now."

A squeak sounds near floor level: with less-than-perfect timing, the rat has returned with a tray of candied fruits and small balls of fried dough covered in sesame seeds. Quickly, he offers his thanks and adds the desserts to the array of food between them.

[we_bring_hell]

She regards them thoughtfully then reaches for one of the balls of dough. "Yes," she says, frowning at the dessert.

[acrookedpath]

"Ah -- those have red bean paste in them, so you are not startled when you bite in," he offers helpfully.

(Hopefully he did not just turn this possibly-a-metaphor conversation into something unintentionally shameless.)

[we_bring_hell]

She bites it.

"It is sweet, but not offensively so," she says, after some thoughtful chewing.