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“Itaru.”
Uh oh. It wasn't everyday that Izumi used his name so bluntly. Maybe this little stunt had gotten him in a bit more trouble than expected, even if Sakyo wasn't anywhere to be seen. Man, he'd even talked to Omi and Tsuzuru about it - the fact that he was making a bit of a mess in the dorm’s kitchen was beside the point.
“Hello, Director.” He flashed her a winning smile as he turned around, pausing in his preparation of the chicken. “Can I help you with something?”
Her eyes drew upwards to the fact his fringe was tied, confirming this was definitely the Itaru she knew and not the sparkling
twin
self that showed up in front of strangers. Weird. Was she dreaming? Slowly her attention dropped back to his face, and she took a step forward.
“Why are you in the kitchen? You aren't feeling unwell, are you?” Most of the actors were content to avoid the room during meal prep with the handful of capable chefs the dorm had. On top of that, Izumi could count on one hand the amount of times Itaru had stepped in with the intention to actually cook in the last twelve months.
(Never mind the fact she had planned to hijack the kitchen to work on chocolate gifts for the whole dorm. That wasn't the point. The point was-)
“I'm on dinner duty - on request - and I'm feeling perfectly fine. You look a little pale though, Director,” he teased, “did you need to sit down?”
The confusion didn't fade from her face: in fact, her brow furrowed further. But he wasn't lying - the ingredients strewn across the bench spoke of an earnest attempt at making ... something, at the very least.
“Itaru.” She repeated firmly, still frowning at him. Yikes, failed that persuasion check.
“... Okay, fine, you got me.” He relented finally with a sigh, sunny mask slipping into something far more recognisable to them both. “I wanted to try making a recipe I found in a game. It looks good, and seemed simple enough when I played it so I didn't want to bother Tsuzuru or Omi with it.”
“I see…”
“So if that's all you had to ask me, I’m going to end this cutsc-”
“Did you want help?” Izumi interrupted. She wasn't going to get any chocolate preparation done if there was someone else in the kitchen, and she’d kept her afternoon free so that she could use it
Briefly, Itaru considered his options:
- He could agree and her affection points would rise, with potential for a special event if he played his cards right. However, agreeing might incur the wrath of several mildly jealous teenagers (and a mildly jealous Sakyo, who was far more protective than he thought he was - and the dude was mostly pretty self aware, which made it much worse); and that was probably more trouble than it was worth.
- He could disagree and risk Izumi's disappointment, which were some influence points he'd really wanted to hold onto. But, it would save him the inconvenience of defending himself from his troupe-mates, even if his choice was completely justified. Not to mention that co-op was a pain in the ass, even if he was working with Izumi who knew what she was doing ...
Well, at least the choice was easy.
“Yeah, okay. Thanks.”
Izumi practically beamed, bouncing into the kitchen. She still had about a week until Valentine’s, and since the semesters had started for the company’s students she would have room to work during the weekdays. One night spent helping one of the kitchen’s rare visitors wouldn’t hurt.
“Can I see the recipe?”
Without a word Itaru reached over and picked up the paper he’d printed the recipe on, handing it to the director. As she leaned against the counter and started to read, he went back to chopping the chicken.
“Red pepper, coriander… oh, we definitely have those ...” Izumi trailed off, scanning the recipe. Wait a second. “What did you say this was for?” She glanced up from the paper.
“Spiced chicken and rice.”
Izumi bit her finger to stifle a laugh as realisation hit, shoulders trembling.
“What?”
“Okay, don’t - you know this is a curry, right? Or at least, it will be?”
“Seriously?” Damn, just when he thought that they were safe from curry hell.
That thought must have showed on his face, because Izumi straightened up and sniffled dramatically, pretending to wipe a tear from her eye. “Look at you, discovering your own curry recipes all on your own. I’m so proud.”
“Alright, I get it.” With his free hand Itaru shoved a now-laughing Izumi away from using his shoulder as an arm-rest, squishing her cheek. She continued to giggle, unperturbed. “So we’re making curry. Better taste as good as it looked in the game.”