Neither of those words have any meaning to her. Shonagon frowns. She needs both hands to manage her plate and utensils as she serves herself, so she's finally sacrificed propriety and tucked her fan up her sleeve.
"A potato?" she repeats, the syllables turning to a flat staccato in her mouth. "Cheese? I've never heard of such things."
"Don't have em on your side of the world?", the question was asked without condescension. "A potato's an edible starch that grows underground, then cheese is made from milk. You do something or other to it, then let it age for a while and it gets that kind of tang to it. So if you're lactose intolerant, i wouldn't eat it."
He shrugged, then started devouring his plate, ears open for any other questions about the lovely subject of food.
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"A potato?" she repeats, the syllables turning to a flat staccato in her mouth. "Cheese? I've never heard of such things."
no subject
He shrugged, then started devouring his plate, ears open for any other questions about the lovely subject of food.