“It’s fine.” I lie. Kenji looks like he wants to say more but our water comes back with our food, and that seems to be the abrupt end to our conversation. Kenji and I give thanks the waiter before we quietly eat. The silence is thick between us. The slow set of the sun casts shadows in the restaurant, and for a moment I can almost enjoy the silence if it weren’t for all of the information that hung in the air between us. I try to move onto something smaller, easier to tackle.

“You’re staying at my place, right?” I ask him, though I already know the answer. That part was very obviously stated in the message I had received. I had quickly prepared on of the two spare bedrooms shortly after. If I didn’t do it right away, I probably wouldn’t have gotten around to it. It hadn’t ever been used, as evidenced by the thin layer of dust that had collected on everything. Now it was spotless and ready to receive the male before me.

“Yes,” he replies. “Though if they neglected to tell you as much I can find somewhere else to stay for the night.” He doesn’t sound upset, but something in the way he looks makes me feel like he is upset, or would be if I give him the wrong answer.

“No, they did,” I tell him. “I just…” I trail off, unsure of really what to say. I fumble with my food for a moment, struggling to use the chopsticks. Kenji watches me, quirking an eyebrow but saying nothing.

“Here,” he says after a moment. “Hold it like this.” He nimbly moves the utensils in my hand to the proper position, his hands much larger than my own. I can’t stop the tingling feeling at his touch as it fills me to my core, heat blooming across my cheeks.

“Thank you.” I mumble before returning to my meal.

“I thought you ate here somewhat often?” Kenji asks, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“I usually order take out.” I try to hide my face behind my hand as I practically shovel food into my mouth. What an embarrassment, I must look pretty dumb.

“I suppose it’s safer that way.” Kenji remarks before returning to his own dish. He doesn’t make any complaint about the food, so I take it as a good sign. He also eats it far more elegantly than I do, as I continue to struggle - though a little less thanks to his assistance.

“Do you enjoy your work here?” The question nearly throws me off balance. While I’m glad for the reprieve from the awkward silence, I honestly wasn’t expecting him to ask anything about me. This was a business relationship after all.

“More or less.” I shrug. “I mean, it’s only been a few years.” I explain. I’m wary to go into too much detail, such as my frustrations at being unable to participate with the scientific community while simultaneously being a part of that scientific community. I could go on and on about the evolution of dragons, the hypothesis of magic, and my theories on the origin of dragons, but I don’t imagine it would make the best dinner talk.

“Tell me about it.” I blink in surprise. He was inviting me to talk more, to share about myself. Was he just being polite, or did he genuinely want to know?

“Are you sure?” I ask. “I could talk the ear off an elephant.” I chuckle, though it’s halfhearted in the attempt.

“Of course,” He replies before taking another bite. I try my best not to be distracted by the shape of his mouth, reminding myself that this is strictly business. “I don’t often hear much from the paleontological side of things. It would seem that the archaeology community makes more noise than you all.” He says this with the very beginnings of a smile, and I feel like if I blink I’ll miss it.

He wasn’t wrong, the dragons as a collective seemed more interested in their nearly lost culture more than anything else. Based on evidence, dragons had once been far greater in number than they were now. It was theorized they had once been the dominant species, though being apex predators I had trouble understanding that. It was also obvious that magic had been far more powerful than the little trickle of energy most had, if they had any at all. The last remaining bit of magic that every dragon was the ability to transform from a dragon to something else like a human, though some chose a different shape.

So I quickly delved into the basics of my life since I moved here almost ten years ago. I told him how the museum was run, barely surviving with it’s meager three employees including myself. I talked about the number of fossils I’ve been able to work on, mostly small things such as teeth and fragmented torsos. He would ask about the fossilization process - which I had a feeling he already knew about, but I enlightened him anyway.. I would go into detail about the known species of fossilized dragons and pointed out how some of them related to artifacts found at different cultural sights. I briefly went over the legend of the Red Dragon - though that has long since been old news - and the fossil evidence of why ancient dragon cultures may have believed in such a thing. The entire time Kenji was quiet and polite, attentive, and even a little interested. By the time I had finished, the sun had long gone down and stars began to wink in the sky.

“Thank you.” He said when I was done. “It’s getting late,” he observed, casting a glance out the window we sat next to. “Why don’t we get a box and go?” He asked, though I felt it for what it was, and invitation to leave. The restaurant was open for another few hours, but more customers had begun to fill up the seats around us. I give him an affirmative nod and he calls the waiter over, asking for the bill and one box. I note that he has completely finished his food, but I had spent so long talking that I ate barely more than half.

“Here,” I begin to pull out my wallet when the waiter returns with the bill, but Kenji stops me. He places his hand on mine, forcing me to pause as I try to pull out my card from my wallet.

“I’ve got it.” He says, already handing his own card to the waiter. I can’t stop the blush that fills my cheeks as the waiter politely dips his head and takes the card to the counter. “It’s the least I can do.” Kenji tells me, and there’s something sincere and almost sad in the way he looks at me. I’m not sure if I should be offended, flattered, or embarrassed.

The waiter quickly returns with Kenji’s card and my food box and I am more than happy to shovel my food away and leave. Then I remember that I’ll be going back home with Kenji, and those mixed emotions send a roiling feeling in my gut. Maybe it was for the best that I didn’t finish my food.

“I think,” Kenji starts as he stands up from his seat. “That I’m going to go get some groceries. I’ll meet you at your place?” He asks me. I’m not really sure why he needs groceries, but perhaps it’s for the best. I don’t know him well enough and he may have some food particulars or allergies I don’t know about it.

“Sure.” I say with a small shrug. “Do you have the address?” I ask him. I hope that if the Council was more direct with him in other matters, then they would have also given him my address.

“Yes.” He answers with a sharp nod.

“I’ll see you later then?” I ask, not sure how else to end the conversation.

“Yes. I shouldn’t be too long, perhaps an hour.” He informs me. That’s good I suppose, it gives me some time to reevaluate my life choices. Or I’ll just fuss over the state of my home one more time instead.

I grab my things with a quick farewell as we leave the restaurant, though I may have been a little too preemptive since our cars are directly next to each other. Thankfully, he takes a moment to do something on his phone - likely looking up directions - before leaving the restaurant. I’m already in my car and pulling out by the time he leaves, raising his hand as a small sort of goodbye before leaving. I return the gesture and head out into traffic, making the drive home alone.