Mitsuru had gone quiet during that exchange, trying to wrap her head around the idea of modern people cooking their food on sticks, of all things. How did one even begin to go about making certain that was sanitary?

That displeased expression had been traded out for something closer to a puzzled, borderline BSOD look trained squarely on Mors; she didn't even seem to quite register that the black haired boy had decided to go wandering off.