Most things have the capacity to be good. Just not corn.
[It's the one and only thing she's never enjoyed. There's no trauma connected to it that she's aware of, no training-related reason for it, it's just so incredibly bad that she has no ability to overlook it and pretend otherwise. Much to her confusion, not only do the other Lis eat it, normal humans do, too. Either she's wrong or they all are and she's not sure which is the better option.
Li shoots him a grateful smile.]
Thank you. I'll have to get you something once I get more settled in, pay you back for being so kind. I appreciate it.
[Finances were, obviously, not left to the teenagers in her household. For one thing, Li would subsist solely on a diet of dragon's beard candy and steamed buns, which is hardly healthy, and for another, conditioning leads to a worrying tendency to forget to eat. If meals weren't mandatory none of them would have survived into adulthood. This is probably healthy for her, come to think of it; when was the last time she ate, anyway?
Li can't imagine what she'd spend her money on other than the basics of life. She never had the chance to before. Even her Guanyin pendant was paid for by someone else, a kind elderly woman who saw how happy the sight of it made Li. Having money will be a new experience entirely. She supposes she'll use it on little things like this, to whatever extent they come up.
The pot of tea is in a kettle whose style is unfamiliar to Li. Neither European nor Chinese, the geometric patterns are likely something native to this world instead, and she looks at it with interest. For all that everyone here has been quite kind and welcoming, Li can't help but feel she doesn't know much about the native culture just yet. One day, though, perhaps she'll pluck up the courage to ask people questions directly. For now, though, she turns her attention back to Donatello.]
You mentioned your father likes tea. What about your brothers? I'd heard that tea isn't very popular in the United States, but I don't know if that's actually accurate.
no subject
[It's the one and only thing she's never enjoyed. There's no trauma connected to it that she's aware of, no training-related reason for it, it's just so incredibly bad that she has no ability to overlook it and pretend otherwise. Much to her confusion, not only do the other Lis eat it, normal humans do, too. Either she's wrong or they all are and she's not sure which is the better option.
Li shoots him a grateful smile.]
Thank you. I'll have to get you something once I get more settled in, pay you back for being so kind. I appreciate it.
[Finances were, obviously, not left to the teenagers in her household. For one thing, Li would subsist solely on a diet of dragon's beard candy and steamed buns, which is hardly healthy, and for another, conditioning leads to a worrying tendency to forget to eat. If meals weren't mandatory none of them would have survived into adulthood. This is probably healthy for her, come to think of it; when was the last time she ate, anyway?
Li can't imagine what she'd spend her money on other than the basics of life. She never had the chance to before. Even her Guanyin pendant was paid for by someone else, a kind elderly woman who saw how happy the sight of it made Li. Having money will be a new experience entirely. She supposes she'll use it on little things like this, to whatever extent they come up.
The pot of tea is in a kettle whose style is unfamiliar to Li. Neither European nor Chinese, the geometric patterns are likely something native to this world instead, and she looks at it with interest. For all that everyone here has been quite kind and welcoming, Li can't help but feel she doesn't know much about the native culture just yet. One day, though, perhaps she'll pluck up the courage to ask people questions directly. For now, though, she turns her attention back to Donatello.]
You mentioned your father likes tea. What about your brothers? I'd heard that tea isn't very popular in the United States, but I don't know if that's actually accurate.