Reservations

[Eidolon]

Eido's heart sank at the familiar cadence, miring her in both deep yearning and shame. When Kōta spoke to her in their language of birth, she refused to acknowledge it. He rarely did anymore, unless it was to vex in the way of siblings. With a stranger, though, Eido simply weathered it politely, assuming he had intended to try and put her at ease.

The General Manager had no need to apologise, but she accepted it with only a little discomfort. In fact he had implied nothing of the sort, and she did not wish him to bear the dishonour of her own guilt at having spread her claim over an entire table. Refuting would further the awkwardness though, and accepting absolved them both. She inclined her head, and stilled her hands to rest laced in front of her.

“You speak it very well. Thank you for the kindness, but please do not trouble yourself. English is preferable to me.” She did not enquire where or why he had learned, though the compliment was sincere. Rather, she did not wish to think of a life dead and buried and mourned, nor pause over the way her chest for a moment tightened in memory.

“It’s my brother I’m waiting for. There is a resemblance. But I'm sure he is just delayed; time keeping is not among his virtues." Dark hair ghosted her cheeks as her head tilted down. She had a way of avoiding eye contact that most took for demurity, and she never disabused the assumption. Her tone was warm enough, and not flustered, though the words were softly spoken.

After a moment, she added: "I should purchase something else while I wait. That was inconsiderate of me. Do you have any recommendations?"