Flight School: Predator

Departing Stay

"I suppose now I'll have to wait for dinner," Io said lightly as he turned to his only remaining companion, wondering if she had, somehow, heard the mindful exchange between him and Luka.

"Yes," the girl came to agree rather indifferently, gazing at him with eyes that were slightly duller than before sundown. They remained silent after her response, each wondering if the other was uncomfortable in its abyss.

Io buried his face in Luka's coat for comfort, hoping to hide—as well—his current inability to converse without reverting back to his questionable self. Not uncertainty, no. Not necessarily. Just questions.

He opened his mouth to speak. "Do you, um, remember—"

"Yes?"

"When I asked you for your favourite food..."

"Yes."

"You said," he took a deep breath before trying his best to pronounce the name of the dish, "ma...la? Sia...?"

"Ma La Xiang Guo."

He smiled, nodding excitably. "Do you know how to make it? Can I learn from you? How does it...how does it taste like?"

"Spicy," she considered briefly. "I haven't made it in a while. It requires a lot of preparation, and ingredients."

The moon phoenix nodded in understanding. "Ah...I see. You like spicy food?"

"Sometimes, yes."

"Did you knnow Vaughn likes it too?"

"The vulture?" She blinked, unsure if she had heard him correctly. "How did you know?"

"I asked him."

It sounded to the girl a ridiculous matter—something so unimportant, it wouldn't have crossed her mind. "You seem to be very well-acquainted."

"If by that you mean sworn enemies then yes," Io laughed, "or so that's what he would have said, I'm sure." She couldn't bring herself to feel amused, but was sure that the girl in the past would have felt something along the lines of that emotion.

Io was about to ask her something else when a sharp knock interrupted their conversation, signalling the arrival of his meal.

"Come in," Jing permitted. A middle-aged woman in the facility's uniform entered with a smile, wheeling in a tea cart with the first two tiers filled with fragrant dishes. "Is this from the kicthen?"

"Yes ma'am. Mr. Viktor had requested that Mr. Tori not consume anything beyond the kitchen in the next few days. I made these myself."

The phoenix nodded and received the dinner trolley, thanking the lady before she took her leave.

"I'll test the food," she said right after the door was closed, removing the dish covers to reveal an array of fragrant greens and pineapple rice. Io was quietly grateful for her offer.

"It smells good," he commented lightly, moving along as she tried each and every dish. Jing nodded.

"It is. They were careful with the spices as well. There's nothing that would enhance or trigger heat." Silently amazed by the extent of her knowledge, Io asked if such knowledge was common amongst predators—for whatever reason.

"Not general, I suppose. I am familiar with spices on the whole," she handed him a fork and spoon having tested every dish. "We used them a lot back home."