#// me laughing like an idiot because linhardt used ALPHABET PASTA

[progenitorheart]

sent by @herrings:

“professor, don’t you find the appeal of alphabet pasta quite fascinating?” slipping into the bench across from byleth, linhardt takes a moment to glance down at his soup and survey its contents (tomato, with a special of alphabet letters that were undoubtedly a byproduct of bored chefs). he takes his spoon and prods about the surface for a moment, humming before he continues to speak: “people can use the pasta to code whatever they want. i know it’s in bad manners to play with your food but… look.” the young noble turns his bowl and pushes it towards byleth and, in the center of his soup, a singular demand is spelled out: 'let me study your crest.'

It is a rarity that Byleth eats his meals in solitude, seemingly always graced with the company of at least one other person each time he takes a seat in the dining hall. Even before the monastery it had been like that, the mercenary band whiling the hour away with friendly banter and stories from the past as he ate his food in silence among them, soaking in every word with subdued interest.

This time ends up being no different; Linhardt claims the seat across from him in a manner he’s come to expect of the student, which is to say without asking—though it’s not as if Byleth actually cares either way. Brow is raised ever so slightly as periwinkle hues watch the spoon’s movements, tongue remains still even when the bowl is pushed in his direction with a very specific arrangement of words made from alphabet pasta resting in the center of it. Considers commending the effort it must have taken to find enough letters to form a full sentence, even if he thinks Linhardt could have just asked him outright.

“...If you can stay awake in class, I’ll consider it.” The bowl is carefully nudged back toward its owner, and the professor returns to eating his own food without further comment.