[Of course she will. And Shinjiro's ready when she does. At the very least, he knows how to budget cooking time.
The meal's ready and still hot, though cooling on the Western-style table where the places had been set. The dishes, save the ones they're eating from, are washed and put back where they belong. The intimidating cardboard box is still where Shinjiro had set it while going through his things that had been packaged inside. It's now empty, languishing in Nietzschean-brand Nihilism in its little corner. Stare into it long enough, and it might just stare back into you.
Other than that, his apartment is as empty as his room back in the dorm had been—though that is likely true for most people at this point. Nobody came with all their baggage, and the apartments are small enough that space is at a definite premium.
When he hears the knock at the door, he immediately goes to open it, for once lacking the familiar pea coat that's as much his calling card as anything else is. Without an apron, he wasn't about to chance getting cooking stains on it, though, as usual, his clothing remains unsoiled from his cooking ventures.
He sighs, shaking his head (guess it's now or never then), and finally opens the door, letting her inside. He'll try to push back the awkwardness that still remains. He gestures to the table.]
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The meal's ready and still hot, though cooling on the Western-style table where the places had been set. The dishes, save the ones they're eating from, are washed and put back where they belong. The intimidating cardboard box is still where Shinjiro had set it while going through his things that had been packaged inside. It's now empty, languishing in Nietzschean-brand Nihilism in its little corner. Stare into it long enough, and it might just stare back into you.
Other than that, his apartment is as empty as his room back in the dorm had been—though that is likely true for most people at this point. Nobody came with all their baggage, and the apartments are small enough that space is at a definite premium.
When he hears the knock at the door, he immediately goes to open it, for once lacking the familiar pea coat that's as much his calling card as anything else is. Without an apron, he wasn't about to chance getting cooking stains on it, though, as usual, his clothing remains unsoiled from his cooking ventures.
He sighs, shaking his head (guess it's now or never then), and finally opens the door, letting her inside. He'll try to push back the awkwardness that still remains. He gestures to the table.]
It's done, so you can sit down if you want.