For a little while, nobody said anything at all.
Si-on poured more tea. Echo reached for another omelet. Joon refilled his bowl from the pot of stew, slowly, like he was trying very hard to look like a man who had nothing on his mind but lunch. Around them, the dining hall carried on as if nothing had happened. People talked and laughed at the long tables. Dishes clattered. Someone near the far wall was humming.
Jin ate a few more bites of rice. It was still delicious. He barely tasted it.
He thought about being careful. About waiting. About keeping his head down, the way they'd planned, and letting Si-on show them whatever he wanted to show them, and looking for the rest quietly on their own.
Then he thought about the cook's face. The way her smile had flickered. The way she'd hurried back to the kitchen like she'd done something wrong.
He set down his chopsticks.
"Can I ask you something?" he said.
Si-on looked up from his tea, smiling. "Of course, brother. Anything."
