It's been a few hours. No, the tea didn't help; he's nervous, twitchy, can't keep still. Obviously the thing to do is wall himself up in a kitchen and cook with ridiculous amounts of onions.
[[OOC: private to
stripesandheels. Adult content further down.]]
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Higher than a fucking kite, would be the expression.]
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His fingers are properly drawn back, so he doesn't cut himself when the knife slips hard in the red onion he's dicing.]
... shit.
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[She says, sympathetically, taking her water glass over to the sink to fill it up, cautiously.]
Are there bananas in here?
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[Clipped, curt and cold. There are other things on the counter - eggs, sugar, frozen peas and shrimp, mirin and sugar.]
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