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>"Oh yeah. Very good stuff at school, and cheap, but not for dinner." Pony replies, deeply breathing in all the aromas set before her. "In some times, I do take-out and rice only. I think I had a full month of sushi right after I settled in …not a good idea. Even with trying the different kinds of fishless rolls, it was still too hard a diet shift."
>"Uh-huh. First time living alone, as it were?" Your Momma asks, getting a bashful nod in response. "Can't say I'm surprised. I know of a certain calf that once thought a week of nothing but pizza was a good idea while her parents were gone…"
"Ah was 12!" You point out, perhaps a bit too defensively. You sit back down and cross your arms, almost shivering at the memory. "So much grease…"
>"Well, we can keep talking but I'd rather not let the gyoza cool down, so why don't we get started?" Momma says, giving you all the go ahead to dig in.
From there, table talk became… downright embarrassing.
You had expected Momma to continue her inquiries into Pony’s life, and you held your tongue from asking her to stop pestering. After all, your friend was eager to share her upbringing, interests and hobbies. Only ever switching back to English when she really wanted to get her point across without confusion to your mom, but always returning to Japanese by the next question. Neither Rik nor Angus seemed to mind these gaps in comprehending the conversation.
What you didn't expect, but were feeling too lazy to put up a fight about, was for your Mom to start telling Pony about all the silly stuff you had hoped would stay on the other side of the Pacific.
Did Pony need to know about the time you almost got mauled by a giant barn cat? Or that you are justifiably scared of geese?...
The most you felt like doing was keeping a conveyor belt of gyoza running into your mouth in an attempt to keep yourself from protesting. Or clarifying, like for what had <span class="mu-i">really</span> happened each time Momma described a funny place and position she remembers finding you zonked out in on the ranch. Or when you refused to come out of the irrigation canal in hopes of it acting like a water slide. Or that time you got your head stuck in the livestock pen railing and were too panicked to quirk out of it.
Soon enough there was no more gyoza and Momma was still going on about all the incidents you had with your hair as a child…
You try to pivot, leverage it in your favor, and address the stories to Angus as early life lessons and words of wisdom, but you aren’t certain you got through to him on any of it. It’s not like he could hear you very well while you covered your blushing face with your hands… his dad laughing beside him probably didn’t help much either.
