[ Zephirin isn't oblivious to Francel's rapt staring, the boy's ensuing distraction, but he feigns it, serenely chewing and swallowing his mouthful of sandwich, swiping at one corner of his lips with his thumb to catch imaginary crumbs. The flavours — egg and turkey and avocado — complement one another, mingling pleasantly.
He doesn't laugh at Francel's confession — he pauses in the midst of scooping up a forkful of the mashed potatoes to sample next. Deadpan, he replies as though Francel's answer made complete sense: ]
These lunches are good, as are you. As for the cafeteria, I doubt that you're missing much.
[ But Francel must find it hard to navigate going to school at all, being called on to answer questions in class. At the very least, he gradually seems less afraid to talk to Zephirin. ]
no subject
He doesn't laugh at Francel's confession — he pauses in the midst of scooping up a forkful of the mashed potatoes to sample next. Deadpan, he replies as though Francel's answer made complete sense: ]
These lunches are good, as are you. As for the cafeteria, I doubt that you're missing much.
[ But Francel must find it hard to navigate going to school at all, being called on to answer questions in class. At the very least, he gradually seems less afraid to talk to Zephirin. ]