Mansion Meeting (private)

Moroi slowly wheeled himself in to the empty, chairless spot at the head of the table. It was a strange practice that he had picked up from the humans, to sit the head of the household at a certain spot of a dinner table, an oddity even further exacerbated by the fact that he was completely alone in the house and being the head of an empty table didn't mean much, but it was a practice he found he rather enjoyed, surprisingly enough. He had spent the majority of his life fighting a crippling weakness, being put in a position of power, even if it was arbitrary and imaginary...and a power over an empty dinner table, was something that was strangely satisfying for Moroi, a sense of self-validation that logically looked idiotic and pointless. He was being frequently reminded today of just how similar he was to these hairless apes and he was not especially fond of that. Moroi's eyes were drawn to the rather expensive dinner table he had bought to satisfy that strangely human need for self-gratification, almost in a daze at his own pathetic, human, desires.

His pensive and somewhat self-deprecating reverie was broken as he heard Chammy make her way toward the room, his head slowly perking up and then immediately looking crest fallen when he noticed that she was coming completely empty-handed. Moroi had not realized just how hungry he actually was until right then and even though, logically, he knew the food was going to take more time to prepare, he couldn't help but feel hopeful that Wine had some magically induced speed cooking abilities. That was the kind of power that this world desperately needed after all. The crest fallen look slowly shifted in to one of marginal disbelief and skepticism. Why HAD she come out here if the food wasn't done? This did not seem to even sort of be proper cooking ettiquette. Did humans frequently just leave the kitchen while the meals were being made? What if a burglar came in and swiped HIS food, Moroi wouldn't stand for it. Before he could go on his tirade about ensuring the sanctity of his dinner, the girl began speaking. Her words did not make much more sense this time around either. Moroi knew what a bikini was, and he knew what a "slut" was, his issue was more in a lack of understanding as to how that was an insult. Perhaps it was from a lack of understanding of human social and courtship norms, but being physically attractive to effectively mate with multiple partners while wearing a bathing suit did not sound like an insult. If anything it sounded like a compliment. Was that not the ultimate point? How confusing humans were.

The question that came after the explanation caught Moroi slightly off guard, his eyes questioningly scanning up to the girl's face as she began to spend an inordinate amount of time and attention to adding moisture to her lips. It seemed like an obvious question. Moroi was a boy in a wheelchair with funny looking eyes who attended a human school for the better part of the last two years. Did that question really need asking? Of course he was insulted. And that was only in the context that Chammy would understand. Moroi suffered countless insults with every breath he took. His entire family being forced in to the lives of cripples despite being far and away humanity's betters was an insult every waking moment of his life. The human species as a whole was an insult to him. The hairless apes were given a very rude awakening whenever the spiritual world descended upon them and his family had to deal with the insignificant cretins for longer than that. Not to mention that, on the whole, the Wareyasui needed the humans...and even, anatomically, "were" human. That might be the most frustrating and insulting thing of all, and he even constantly insulted himself by being attracted to such a "lesser" being. If his sister found out, he'd never hear the end of it.

That was not the first thing Moroi's skeptical attention was drawn to however and he wasn't sure why she paid so much attention to it, but Moroi's focus was initially diverted to the woman's lips. He was not entirely sure why the girl needed to spend so much attention on moistening her lips, it didn't make a whole lot of sense to the boy, lips did not require that much attention. Perhaps there was a genetic defect? Even then, Moroi wasn't spending an inordinate amount of time talking about the awkward curvature of his spine or the admittedly remarkable tautness of his buttocks. Consequently, the girl's behavior was strange to him, very strange. Then Moroi was stopped in his tracks. he remembered reading about this phenomenon before, it was in one of the small pamphlets that the human's called magazines that he was studying to learn how to blend in to human culture. The tagline was the "ten ways to know if your woman..." something or other, but the attention she was devoting to her lips in close proximity to her body was one of the signs that they were looking for a kiss. Which made no sense to Moroi, their time together did not indicate anything of the sort, so rationally she probably just had a lip fixation, but he couldn't help but feel a bit of heat rising to his face as he desperately tried to get back on target, to the question that was infinitely less embarrassing that he needed to answer.

"It has happened before, yes. There are a plethora of insults for crippled people who threaten the "strength" of the healthy."

Moroi wasn't sure if she really understood what he meant when he explained how he was insulted. He wasn't talking about physical strength, but in terms of competency. It wasn't so much narrow mindedness, it was pride. It is human nature to be unable to accept losing, to fight against the very notion of defeat. Every human was simply hardwired that way, it was an instinctual behavior designed to survive. Before the modern conveniences of technology, losing meant dying...or at the very least severely diminished chances of producing acceptable progeny. It wasn't really their fault per say, humans in general were simply a product of evolutionary tendencies and the tendency to resist losing was natural. What made humans unique among the animal kingdom however, was that they were capable of deeper emotions, like pride. An animal only sees two outcomes, winning and losing. But when pride is thrown in to the mix, there are suddenly several. Even if they were more competent than Moroi, they only beat a cripple, they were expected to win, but if they lose, then all pride they had would be immediately emasculated. In a lot of ways, humanity would be much better off if they were more like the petty animals surrounding them. Being able to separate when emotion was useful and when it wasn't was why the Wareyasui were evolved, superior...better than the humans.

At least that was what Moroi kept telling himself. The boy was having a lot of trouble differentiating when emotion was useful and when it wasn't when he was around Chammy. He frequently found himself staring at places he shouldn't be and for much longer than he should. It was infuriating. Recently though, he had managed to restrict his vision to more appropriate things, mostly...and then, like clock work, she instantly made any progress he made evaporate. It caught Moroi off guard, completely. The boy had spent the better part of the last fifteen minutes staring intensively at the patterns on the floor in a concerted effort to not stare at Chammy and he was not at all ready for the contact. Moroi's head snapped to attention as her hands were laid on his shoulders and she leaned forward, his eyes quickly moving to meet hers. His first instinct was outrage. He was not exactly a task master when it came to his treatment of his employees, a fact that she would see later, but touching him without him expressly telling her so was going far too far. That outrage was short lived however when a different reddening quickly flushed to his face. He realized just how close to him she was and...well...he wasn't ready. The boy sat still in a stunned, flustered daze as she spoke, his brain really only registering the suggestive nature of her words, barely acknowledging that she asked him a question. And then seemingly as soon as it started, a noise blared and the girl pranced off. It took Moroi a couple moments to break out of the trance and, most importantly, remember to breathe as a soft, frightened, and breathless word left him to answer her question once she was well out of ear shot.

"No..."

The daze wasn't fully broken though, as Moroi's eyes still stayed somewhat transfixed on the spot where her eyes were moments before, only really coming to as the girl returned and started setting the table, the crashing noise of the dishes breaking him from his reverie long enough to come back to reality. He would not have cared if Chammy sat down at the table without his bidding, he wasn't so callous that he needed her to wait for his permission on everything and being allowed to sit down for the meal she made seemed certainly fair, but Moroi barely even noticed she sat down, his normally lightning fast brain still struggling to catch up. He only barely registered that the food was hot. He managed to give her a small smile and a nod, indicating that she was allowed to eat whenever she desired to as his attention shifted to the utensils she brought for him. He wasn't sure if she was being thoughtful or if she was simply covering all of her bases, but bringing both kinds was a surprisingly considerate thing, a considerate thing Moroi was loathe to need. The boy's hands hovered toward the chop sticks for a moment, as if trying to force himself to go for them, before he resigned to his fate and grasped the fork. With his condition, his fingers simply did not have the dexterity needed to adequately work chopsticks. Without the Naisei, he'd be forced to operate them like a cave man, and that technique had limited use, he much preferred to save it for something more important.

"This is acceptable, Chammy. Thank you."

They had eaten in silence a long while before that comment, Moroi taking some time to remember how to speak. He couldn't actually say it was good though. Not because it wasn't good, it was, but Moroi found that in order to make employees work their hardest, you had to find that sweet spot between compliment and disapproval, needed to encourage but not placate. He had no idea if he hit that threshold, but if his mental picture of Wine was accurate, he most likely did not have to try especially hard to hit that middle ground. Moroi treaded carefully with his next words. He wasn't sure quite what his opinion of the situation was, but as he was beginning to see the bottom of his bowl, Moroi figured he was running out of time. With a soft clear of his throat, Moroi turned his eyes back to the girl after finishing what remained of his meal, slowly wheeling himself back and away from the table and...for the first time that he could even vaguely remember, Moroi displayed an emotion he did not realize he was capable of, shyness, he couldn't even maintain human speech through the whole thing.

"I'm going to go handle the bath...you don't need to help if you don't want to...itshouldbefineIcanhandleit."