[The version of himself that had been put to rest would have been able to pinpoint exactly what is wrong with that smile of hers the second it appeared, but this Kaoru can only stare for a second, feeling vaguely ill at ease. Nothing about it seems off to him - and why would it? He's never had the need for false kindness or to force his own smiles. But that's... nostalgic. Nostalgic in a bad way, and his gaze drops after a second to his bowl again.]
It isn't bad at all. I don't know why I haven't made it more often. [...Where did the recipe even come from, anyway? Isn't that a little strange...? He thought he remembered getting it from a childhood friend, but he can't actually recall at all. His palms suddenly feel a little clammy because he knows - he just knows that if he were to go looking through the small collection of recipes he's written down, he won't find this one among them. Even though he can recall the ingredients so clearly, and knows exactly how to prep them...
He takes a quiet breath in to calm himself, and though his own smile comes surprisingly easy, his hand trembles just a little as it finishes its arch and scoops up more custard and the small egg.]
It's warm, right?
[The dish itself, of course, but more than that - something about it is... really, really warm. And that, for some reason, makes his heart ache. His smile falters.]
...Nostalgic.
[Is he crying?? HE SURE IS CRYING. Or, at the very least, tears have beaded at the corners of his eyes. He doesn't yet seem aware of it, staring down at the spoon but seeming to look through it.]
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It isn't bad at all. I don't know why I haven't made it more often. [...Where did the recipe even come from, anyway? Isn't that a little strange...? He thought he remembered getting it from a childhood friend, but he can't actually recall at all. His palms suddenly feel a little clammy because he knows - he just knows that if he were to go looking through the small collection of recipes he's written down, he won't find this one among them. Even though he can recall the ingredients so clearly, and knows exactly how to prep them...
He takes a quiet breath in to calm himself, and though his own smile comes surprisingly easy, his hand trembles just a little as it finishes its arch and scoops up more custard and the small egg.]
It's warm, right?
[The dish itself, of course, but more than that - something about it is... really, really warm. And that, for some reason, makes his heart ache. His smile falters.]
...Nostalgic.
[Is he crying?? HE SURE IS CRYING. Or, at the very least, tears have beaded at the corners of his eyes. He doesn't yet seem aware of it, staring down at the spoon but seeming to look through it.]