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What're some of the more common languages spoken? Specifically in and around the Lonthinn Empire? It's kinda difficult to pick when you aren't sure the demographic breakdown of a given area.
Expressing my formal interest. Will be playing a Conquest Paladin/Undead Warlock.

I might try nabbing that Berserker spot if you don't mind.

Is an Einzbern on the menu in terms of master choice? Either one of them or a Matou appeal the most to me. As for Servant, I'll probably either app Magni or Jack the Ripper, depending on whether or not I wanna do canon shit.

Should also note I'm more than happy to pair up with someone else as opposed to playing both master and servant. Prefer it, even.

my father was a pickle. and his father before him.
not long from now i too will become a pickle.

It seemed his ploy had worked. If nothing else, flicking paper at the ornery delinquent had gotten her out of her head and back into the discussion, even if it was to chide him for his behavior. Of course, it became rather obvious that he didn't exactly know what to do thereafter. Himawari was definitely in a foul mood, and he wasn't adept at maneuvering around the feelings of others. Hell, he wasn't especially adept at maneuvering around his own feelings, as he had come to realize earlier in their little outing. It was probably best to keep things casual, engage in some inane banter to carry the day, finish their food, and part as amicably as possible.

But that sucked. When the hell had he ever been some witless normie, too scared of broaching the hard topics to say anything of worth? Sure, when he rebuffed the redhead, he had probably hurt whatever feelings the otherwise apathetic girl was capable of mustering, but he couldn't do anything about that. Instead, he could focus on the other thing that was probably gnawing at her, as much as she tried not to let it show.

The teen used his forefinger to slide the ball that had bounced off his chest so that it sat directly parallel to his companion. Then, winding up his fingers not unlike a footballer taking a shot, he flicked it hard enough to send it flying across the table to its source.

"You're the one who invited me out, y'know? It's your responsibility to keep me entertained," He chided playfully, "But I suppose Ariyoshi did go sticking her nose where it didn't belong, so she'll have to take some responsibility, won't she?"

He peeked over the back of the booth, utilizing one of the few advantages of being so ungodly tall, and gestured for the waitress to approach once he caught sight of her returning from the back.

"The third pair. What's it mean? I'm... curious." He lied, but if Himawari was too shy to ask, then he'd do it for her. Besides, what was Ariyoshi gonna do? Mock him for it? Most people thought twice about doing that—another advantage of height.

introduce a little pickle juice. upset the established order.
and everything becomes chaos.

It took a fair deal of effort on Ryusei's part not to let loose a groan as he spectated the brief interaction between their waitress and his companion. Great, she was in a mood now. Not that she wasn't always in some kind of mood, but the fact she was already openly declaring that she wanted to go home indicated that she was especially grumpy. Had she been hoping for some kind confession on his part? They hardly knew each other! She had even been adamant on her part that it wasn't a date, so the fact she would get angry with him for rebuffing her was baffling. True, he had baited her in with a compliment before suddenly pulling back, but that didn't mean he was interested in her like that. He could at least take solace in the fact it wasn't, in fact, a date—having the girl storm off in a huff wasn't exactly a great look for anybody involved, and with how the last few weeks had gone, he wasn't sure his ego could take another blow like that.

Growing tired of the spiral of his thoughts, the young delinquent dragged his mind to the present. Shiori sat across from him, sulking in whatever darkness occupied her own mind. He couldn't exactly just sit there in silence, eat his food, and then go home. She was the closest thing to an acquaintance he had at Utsubyo High, and if he left things off where they were, he'd undoubtedly get the cold shoulder on Monday and beyond. Not that she wasn't usually at least a little cold to him, but if Ariyoshi was confident enough in her assessment that they were a couple to tease them, the rumor mill surely saw them as such too. He didn't want some sleazy headline about their torrid love affair ending over a sandwich at a local cafe plastering every page of the rag they called a school paper. Which meant he needed to salvage things, without somehow giving her the idea he wanted to be tongue deep in her mouth by Wednesday.

Crinkle. Crinkle.

He found his answer in one of the napkins provided. A few corners torn free, a little bit of rolling, and he had a neat little ball before him on the table. Putting his hand on the table just behind it, he let the tension in his fingers build for a moment, and with a sudden flick, sent it sailing across the table and past Shiori's head. Then another. Then a third. By the fourth ball, he was confident he had zeroed in on his target, and flicked the last one high, fast, and most importantly, directly at her forehead.
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