Here's a concept for a restaurant: open balcony seating, tempered glass for ceilings, tables dined at in the style of seiza. To some — to many — it's a bizarre attraction. A mixture of traditional & the un-. To Sota, it's whatever. Wouldn't have picked it if it weren't for the busy weekend filling all his usual spots to the brim. Hell, even this place is packed, with the only empty seat — the one opposite of him — offering a more-disgruntled-than-usual Sota for company. It's a new spot with new dishes. Or at least the chef gets away with calling them new, what with all the ridiculous names he gives them. I mean what the hell is "Devilfin Soup" anyway? Sota manages to skim halfway down the menu before his face contorts and he picks something at random.
The waiter thanks him and leaves, and Sota follows him with his gaze before returning it to the table. Thanks to the dining style, the table is low. Too low, in fact. As such, it's only out of bitterness that he slams his 7.25 inch blade with a triple-length attached chain down on the table. Turns a few heads, earns a few looks, but nothing more. Not until the same waiter drags himself back to Sota's table with a tired smile.
"Sir, no weapons are allowed at the tables. But we can keep it for you while — "
"Don't bother."
"I'm sorry but it's only policy — "
"Do not bother." Then barely an aside, teeth gritted, unsmiling: "Fucking nitwit."
The waiter reluctantly gives up and returns to the back of the restaurant.
—
wc 250+
The waiter thanks him and leaves, and Sota follows him with his gaze before returning it to the table. Thanks to the dining style, the table is low. Too low, in fact. As such, it's only out of bitterness that he slams his 7.25 inch blade with a triple-length attached chain down on the table. Turns a few heads, earns a few looks, but nothing more. Not until the same waiter drags himself back to Sota's table with a tired smile.
"Sir, no weapons are allowed at the tables. But we can keep it for you while — "
"Don't bother."
"I'm sorry but it's only policy — "
"Do not bother." Then barely an aside, teeth gritted, unsmiling: "Fucking nitwit."
The waiter reluctantly gives up and returns to the back of the restaurant.
—
wc 250+