[He pales, but tries to buy himself a moment by reaching around the front of the oven to find the dials controlling the cook top to turn it off.]
I'm not sure what's going on... It's not a tattoo. I didn't put it there and I don't think anyone else did either. Was it there earlier? I suddenly felt a pain there. It's here, right? [He asks, tilting his head back to run his fingers along the raised letters, frowning.] I can feel it...
[He can't fight off the small creep of guilt. While he'd never lied to Vander, there had been quite a few opportunities to talk about his involvement with the Yakuza. It doesn't help that Vander had been very open about his past mistakes. Or, at least, he thinks so. It feels a lot like Kenshi has been hiding his past, which... isn't wrong.]
[Vander's gotten the vibe that Kenshi doesn't like to expound on his past- for one thing, Vander doesn't even know what happened to his eyes, yet. He mostly chalks it up to Kenshi not wanting to talk about himself, or not wanting to recall painful memories, not that he's hiding anything, per se. But that's just how Vander sees it.
In any case, Vander shouldn't hide now, either.]
Yup, right there. It just appeared, I think, and so did two words on my arm.
[Though... He isn't volunteering what those words are. Not just yet.]
... Strange. But I'm starving. Let's not let this get cold. Hot pan, heads up.
[They can chat more about this over dinner if they're brave enough. Vander portions the stir-fry onto their plates, half and half (he probably could eat twice as much as Kenshi at the current point, but he wants to be fair). He passes Kenshi one of the plates and leads him to the table with a hand on his lower back. Once there, he slides a hand down his arm and takes his hand, guiding it to the back of the chair so he knows for certain where it is. He doesn't like to be too overbearing with helping him (though he'd definitely assisted him in getting the lay of the land when they moved in), because he doesn't want to emasculate or embarrass Kenshi, but part of this is simply... An excuse to touch him.
And him trying to be something of a gentleman, not that any Zaunite could ever hope for such a title.]
[Kenshi's frown deepens, brow furrowing more. One one hand, it's nice to know he's not alone in whatever is happening. On the other... well, these words don't really seem flattering and it's telling that Vander doesn't mention what the words on his arm are.]
I am too. [He smiles softly. Whatever new catastrophe is occurring, it could wait until they were done eating.
And he can't help but continue to smile to himself when he feels Vander's hand on his back. He really doesn't need to be walked around like this, but he's not about to tell Vander that. It's a great excuse to have him touch him more and he's certainly not going to dissuade that.
His smile turns into more of an amused smirk when Vander's hand finds its way down to his to guide him to a chair. It's an endearingly sweet gesture even if it is a little unnecessary.]
Thanks. [He finds his chopsticks and the plate and begins working on the stir fry. It's not bad at all. And after a few minutes of comfortable silence, he reaches for his beer and tilts his head back a little so Vander can see his neck.] I don't suppose the word has disappeared, has it?
[He knows Kenshi doesn't need it, but most people don't need doors opened for them either, perfectly capable of doing it themselves, but it's still a nice gesture. Removing a small obstacle for someone just to make their day one iota easier.
He considers chancing a kiss on Kenshi's cheek, but decides against it for now. Better they talk about their relationship before assuming that kind of closeness.
He sits and eats, and while he tries to be polite, he's too hungry for what he's doing to be considered anything but scarfing it down. He doesn't personally make the connection that it's how a dog would eat, but somebody easily might. He especially savours the meat, making a small moan of satisfaction.]
This is delicious, Kenshi.
[He looks up from his food to squint at Kenshi's neck, then his own arm.]
Nope, still there for both of us. So... Who, what, or where is 'Yakuza?'
[Kenshi can't help a small chuckle at the compliment paired with sounds that suggested Vander was devouring the meal.] It's just stir fry. But I'm glad you like it.
[His smile falters, expression turning more grim and serious.] I guess it's a mix of who and what. Yakuza is a group where I'm from.
... Organized crime.
My clan, so my family, has been part of the Yakuza for hundreds of years now. When I was old enough, I dropped out of school and followed the path expected of me.
They're not good people. I wasn't a good person... [And he's certainly not proud of it. He purses his lips, toying idly with his food.] You said you ended up with something on your skin as well?
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I'm not sure what's going on... It's not a tattoo. I didn't put it there and I don't think anyone else did either. Was it there earlier? I suddenly felt a pain there. It's here, right? [He asks, tilting his head back to run his fingers along the raised letters, frowning.] I can feel it...
[He can't fight off the small creep of guilt. While he'd never lied to Vander, there had been quite a few opportunities to talk about his involvement with the Yakuza. It doesn't help that Vander had been very open about his past mistakes. Or, at least, he thinks so. It feels a lot like Kenshi has been hiding his past, which... isn't wrong.]
In any case, Vander shouldn't hide now, either.]
Yup, right there. It just appeared, I think, and so did two words on my arm.
[Though... He isn't volunteering what those words are. Not just yet.]
... Strange. But I'm starving. Let's not let this get cold. Hot pan, heads up.
[They can chat more about this over dinner if they're brave enough. Vander portions the stir-fry onto their plates, half and half (he probably could eat twice as much as Kenshi at the current point, but he wants to be fair). He passes Kenshi one of the plates and leads him to the table with a hand on his lower back. Once there, he slides a hand down his arm and takes his hand, guiding it to the back of the chair so he knows for certain where it is. He doesn't like to be too overbearing with helping him (though he'd definitely assisted him in getting the lay of the land when they moved in), because he doesn't want to emasculate or embarrass Kenshi, but part of this is simply... An excuse to touch him.
And him trying to be something of a gentleman, not that any Zaunite could ever hope for such a title.]
I am too. [He smiles softly. Whatever new catastrophe is occurring, it could wait until they were done eating.
And he can't help but continue to smile to himself when he feels Vander's hand on his back. He really doesn't need to be walked around like this, but he's not about to tell Vander that. It's a great excuse to have him touch him more and he's certainly not going to dissuade that.
His smile turns into more of an amused smirk when Vander's hand finds its way down to his to guide him to a chair. It's an endearingly sweet gesture even if it is a little unnecessary.]
Thanks. [He finds his chopsticks and the plate and begins working on the stir fry. It's not bad at all. And after a few minutes of comfortable silence, he reaches for his beer and tilts his head back a little so Vander can see his neck.] I don't suppose the word has disappeared, has it?
He considers chancing a kiss on Kenshi's cheek, but decides against it for now. Better they talk about their relationship before assuming that kind of closeness.
He sits and eats, and while he tries to be polite, he's too hungry for what he's doing to be considered anything but scarfing it down. He doesn't personally make the connection that it's how a dog would eat, but somebody easily might. He especially savours the meat, making a small moan of satisfaction.]
This is delicious, Kenshi.
[He looks up from his food to squint at Kenshi's neck, then his own arm.]
Nope, still there for both of us. So... Who, what, or where is 'Yakuza?'
[His smile falters, expression turning more grim and serious.] I guess it's a mix of who and what. Yakuza is a group where I'm from.
... Organized crime.
My clan, so my family, has been part of the Yakuza for hundreds of years now. When I was old enough, I dropped out of school and followed the path expected of me.
They're not good people. I wasn't a good person... [And he's certainly not proud of it. He purses his lips, toying idly with his food.] You said you ended up with something on your skin as well?