Mujin brought a folded dining guide, rather than a picture.
On the evening of R+132, Darae met him at the agreed ring entrance after both had finished their shifts. One sheet and a short drawing tool were in her bag. The guide in his hand was damp along its final fold.
“Folded it while drinking. Should have reversed the order.”
“Have the food names gone underwater?”
“Still readable.”
The menu named what was currently available. They checked the chosen place was open and went in. Possessing its guide had not booked a table for them. A worker showed them a small available one, away from the window.
Did they need a window today? Darae asked. Mujin preferred the food and her nearer. Sitting opposite, she asked whether this was near enough. He was less tired than last time; she had not travelled to the axial section today, and her back felt well. They did not need a long walk to prove their bodies had improved.
They chose warm soup and cooked vegetables, each paying for their own portion. While waiting she admitted curiosity about yesterday's question. He started unfolding the damp guide, then stopped. That was not what he had meant to show.
His own little notebook came from the bag: thin cover, separate from flight records. Inside was a chair. The back leaned; only two legs were clear. A small square beside it resembled a window. Had he drawn where they sat last time? That was the intention, though he thought he had remembered the chair badly.
After she had spoken about resting hands, he too had wanted to keep a scene. He was not asking her to draw it better. He had wanted to ask whether she would like to see what he drew alone. Could she look closer? He held the notebook open himself.
Darae looked at the wavering lines. Somebody accustomed to carrying passengers could still draw an uneven chair. She left the comparison unspoken. It was tempting to turn his work into a meaning for every mark he made, when he had only offered a small private drawing.
“I'd slide off sideways if I sat on it.”
He laughed. That was why he had left the people out. Two tiny circles stood near the window: cups. The chair differed, but the cups sat together on the support. She could ask what he wanted to remember.
He had liked having a place to sit again even after shortening the walk. Warmth moved through Darae. He had declined a drawing of his face. That did not stop him keeping the time he had seen with his own eyes.
She liked the picture. Because the chair was accurate? No. She had forgotten where their cups went; here they were together. He could not swear they had actually stood in those precise places. She did not want to go back for an inspection. A memory drawing containing memory was enough.
Had she brought anything drawn? Only blank paper. She had no plan to request a face today. When the food came, she received the bowl before reaching for the sheet. He put the notebook away and took his spoon. Nobody needed to let dinner cool to finish discussing a drawing.
The soup was hot. They could wait, he suggested. Darae could eat vegetables meanwhile. He moved to his own plate. Dinner did not require identical sequences. She watched his eating face longer than she had watched the notebook.
Was something on his cheek?
“Not yet. I wanted to look.”
After saying it, her spoon seemed much too large. For a moment he simply looked back. She laughed first.
“You can look straight away this time.”
The vegetables had a stronger salty edge than she expected. His did too; he drank water. They had not chosen a perfect meal, and neither asked for a replacement. Next time she might choose something else. This was fine, he said, but he liked next time.
He wanted to look at her too. The soup being hot had given them time for it, she joked. Ought he thank the dining place? They should finish thanking it before dinner went cold. They ate again. When conversation paused, the table did not feel empty.
Darae asked whether she could say she did not want to discuss today's intakes. He welcomed that. She mentioned only her own mistaken impression of lines on cloth as a hand. No owner or return route accompanied it. His chair might look like a box to somebody else, he said. Then she would ask before sitting.
Showing a drawing had felt unfamiliar because he strained to give her an exact answer every time, he admitted. She had noticed her own explanations lengthening after his short questions. It felt as if she ought to supply an answer quickly. He asked briefly even when there was no hurry.
Could she take time with the thing she wanted to say now? He would wait. When he stopped his spoon to do so, she laughed and told him to eat. Choosing her words need not suspend his dinner too. He looked back at his bowl. She was grateful for the little movement.
“Next time I'd like to show my pictures too. Without choosing the good ones first.”
He would like that. Could she bring out today's blank sheet? Once the meal and water were cleared, the worker permitted a small personal drawing on the dry surface. They arranged their places before using it.
Darae drew a bowl's edge. A flattened circle. Another circle a little away soon made cup and plate difficult to distinguish.
“Two hungry moons,” Mujin said.
“Already fed them. Difficult operation if they're still hungry.”
Could he add a line? She turned the paper. He drew a small crooked rectangle between the circles. His notebook, he explained. Today's principal character had entered, she said. Neither side contained a human face.
Could folding the paper divide their shares? The rectangle crossed the middle and would be cut in two. Then might he keep a photograph? She agreed that they could keep this drawing privately for themselves. The paper alone went on the designated surface. No staff or other guests entered his frame.
Darae received the same image on her personal terminal. No work intake number belonged to that transfer. Who should keep the original? She wanted it today. After asking, he helped put it into dry protection rather than folding it. She almost said she could manage, then thanked him and opened her bag. Independence did not require refusing every offered hand.
They paid at the meal's end. The passage was quieter now. No long walk had been promised, but a nearby public resting place suited them both. They checked their bodies briefly and walked on the broad side.
Near the wall was a small free space. Darae asked to stop. She was glad he had shown the notebook, she said. She wanted to explain that seeing him skilful was not the only good thing. The words came out shorter.
“I think I could be a little awkward today too.”
“At what?”
She looked at him. “I'd like to kiss you.”
Her breath remained after the sentence. He said yes. He did not abruptly pull her towards him. She stepped closer, and he met the movement.
The kiss was brief. Afterwards she found herself studying his collar, with its small crooked fold. Was looking at his face difficult? A little, now. He laughed, and she raised her head to laugh too.
“That was good.”
“For me too.”
They attached no larger promise. She asked about holding hands, and he offered the comfortable one. It felt warmer than at first. Neither measured its temperature. After a short walk to the fork, they went their separate ways.
At home Darae placed the picture on her desk. Two circles and the crooked rectangle still refused to identify themselves clearly. In one corner she wrote DINNER TOGETHER TODAY. That was enough of a title for her without explaining it publicly.
They exchanged messages confirming their separate arrivals. His rectangle was too small, Mujin wrote. Whether to draw a larger one next time could be decided then. Next time sounded near. Today's good time could stay without all of it being transferred into another appointment.
The following shift's ordinary intake notice listed a small repair-tool case coming from axial cargo. The outer count matched; a user still lacked an object that should be inside. Darae did not open the work material on her private terminal. She left their picture dry and turned out the light. Tomorrow there would be hands counting different things inside the same box. Tonight the circles could simply remain together on her desk.