[With the pastry set before him, it's easy to admire the effort and care put into the plating arrangement alone—when was the last time he'd gone out of his way to consume something so elegantly constructed? The meals of high society hadn't appealed to him much in Aefenglom; in Hell, naturally, it was no priority. And before that was only survival.
Clearly, Ignis' skill is on display.]
I think I will enjoy it because I don't often indulge and I don't have many preferences.
[What a neat, tidy, roundabout little argument. Put a bow on it.]
How did you learn to cook?
[Using just his fingertips, Itachi slides the pastry closer to himself, picking up the fork by the stem as though selecting a tool after much consideration. He lets it hover for a moment, as if deciding where to take a bite first. Someone's a bit particular.]
no subject
Clearly, Ignis' skill is on display.]
I think I will enjoy it because I don't often indulge and I don't have many preferences.
[What a neat, tidy, roundabout little argument. Put a bow on it.]
How did you learn to cook?
[Using just his fingertips, Itachi slides the pastry closer to himself, picking up the fork by the stem as though selecting a tool after much consideration. He lets it hover for a moment, as if deciding where to take a bite first. Someone's a bit particular.]