[ Misato has this idea that the market is where people spill their secrets freely with each other. Like in the movies. Storybooks. Little did she account for the possibility that most of it will just be noise. Merchants peddling goods, buyers haggling, locals sharing inside jokes.
It's instinctive, the way her eyes follow Petre's focal point like a pair of choreographed dancers. The depth of his appetite as palpable as if it were her own, with her subsequent disgust feeling almost like a charade. She grabs him by the arm, to stop herself as well as him. ]
(Ew, you're really gonna eat that?)
[ Says the person who eats day-old fries with mustard and coleslaw on the side. ]
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It's instinctive, the way her eyes follow Petre's focal point like a pair of choreographed dancers. The depth of his appetite as palpable as if it were her own, with her subsequent disgust feeling almost like a charade. She grabs him by the arm, to stop herself as well as him. ]
( Ew, you're really gonna eat that? )
[ Says the person who eats day-old fries with mustard and coleslaw on the side. ]