fandomhigh | Lunch, Friday Noon

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Lunch, Friday Noon

Eating in a mess remained a comfortable habit. It was with no particular surprise that Ender found himself drifting there during the lunch hours, considering the day's options with a mildly curious expression.

Ham and cheese sandwiches, salad, and a kind of pudding that looked dangerous both in color and in shape, but he'd eaten worse things. He settled at a table that was neither in the corner nor particularly in the middle, and ate quietly.

If anything, it was a good place to watch.

[ lunch is always open. at lunch ]

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Ah, the high school lunchroom; back home, it was like the very stomachs into which the food was shoveled, the bowels that took in masticated traits and personalities and digested it all in the bile of socialization, processing into cliques and groups clearly defined lines of territory. Where one group sat there, and another there, and, from one, a girl stooping to abolish her height while hiding behind a curtain of dark hair would watch another one, laughing too hard at a joke until milk started bubbling out of her small, upturned, unfinished-seeming nose.

Somehow, though, Cal had a feeling that the only familiar feelings he would have between this cafeteria and the others in his life was the continual and utter disappointment with what was considered a nice, rounded, healthy meal for growing young boys and girls.

As a result, he had a lot of sandwiches on that tray, and, in deciding on a place to sit, he noticed that Ender kid already there, drifted over. He didn't sit next to him, or even across from him, but in a proximity with the suggestion of nearby without being too much so, a little off the way, on the other side of the table. Close enough to jerk his chin up and offer a greeting. "Hey."

Ender had watched him approach, and let him-- more disconnectedly curious as to Cal's intentions than anything else. This marked three times he'd seen the boy, and so far, he hadn't been particularly unpleasant. His own head tilted upwards, his fork moving in the opposite direction from where it had previously moved some salad up to his face.

He supposed three times made them acquaintances, at least. "Hey," he returned, his voice easy and level. He should make some kind of inroad, offer Cal a chance for conversation; although he'd enjoyed the time to himself, Ender felt no particular need to facilitate his own isolation. "Did you find anything edible?"

He poked his pudding with his fork.

"Oh, it's all edible," Cal commented as he bravely ventured a peek to investigate what might lie between the slices of bread of his sandwiches. "Grass is edible. So's dirt."

And, clearly, the sandwich passed whatever test Cal was running it through because, with that, he smushed the bread back down back in place, picked it up, and took a bit. He'd had worse. Cafeteria food definitely did in a pinch when he was feeling too lazy to go down to Luke's and reap the benefit of free employee food.

"I think they might have put some grass and dirt in the pudding." He'd seen food far more questionable back in Battle School, and at times he'd wondered, with morbid curiosity, what brand of manipulation had gone into the food; little soldiers, lined up for whatever they wanted. "But I've seen grass cooked worse."

The speech rhythms of boy banter hadn't been completely lost to him. That much was becoming clear.

"Well," Cal mused; he himself had only a small portion of the pudding, "that's one way to get us to eat our greens."

"They're contributing to a varied diet," Ender said, wryly, chopping off a little bit of the pudding with his fork. He analysed its contents thoroughly. "It'll do the trick."

"And they can use the leftovers to caulk up any cracks in the roads," Cal added, picking at the crust of his sandwich. "Very resourceful, really."

Now, all he'd have to do was continue on this line; he'd forge a bridge of some kind into the local student community. And then what...? The school hadn't been where he wanted to be, but he was here now, and he might as well find a position in which he'd do some good.

"They must be planning ahead," Ender agreed, taking his own sandwich demonstratively. He wiggled it around in the air. "Better than concrete."

"Tomorrow," he said, "they break ground for the outdoor basketball court made out of these things. That deck? Last week's fishsticks."

"They'll add a penninsula to the island using the pudding," he replied, carefully touching the line of the groove this conversation had fallen into. "It's terraforming at its best."

"Terraforming," Cal repeated the vaguely unfamiliar word. "That...reinforcing the soil to make it work for plantlife and stuff, right?"

"I think the pudding has all the plantlife we'll ever need." He put the sandwich down, prodding the pudding again with his fork, as a demonstration. "Technically, terraforming means turning a planet into some place habitable for human beings," Ender said, "It could be shipped into space."

Cal considered the new information as he considered his pudding.

"It could be the ship in space," he added.

"I've never heard of shooting pudding into space before." Ender let his fork hit the table again. The conversation was ridiculous, but strangely nice in its simplicity, and he wondered how long that would last.

Cal grinned a little at that. "Finally; something you never heard of. After the singing rats dressed like pirates, I though you'd have heard of everything."

"There's an infinite amount of space with an infinite amount of details," he pointed out, "There'll always be something I haven't heard of." And once upon a time, that had been a constant worry.

Grabbing some food for herself, Temari found another table-- a respectable distance from Ender-- and sat down.

And watched the boy for a moment. Child did not mean non-threat.

It was starting to get a little annoying how much he was being watched here-- a little, and not a lot. I shouldn't have expected otherwise, Ender thought, especially not here, where the student base seems to be so diverse.

He contemplated simply ignoring her, letting her look her fill and carrying on. But that might continue to set precedents, and at the very least, he ran a small chance of figuring out why she was.

So Ender's head lifted a little to catch her eye; that tended to unsettle, or at least bring the situation to a point where he could control it.

Not a child then.

Temari met his gaze with the steady sort of confidence that came from the years of dealing with Gaara when he hit the point where the demon was more in control than he was.

You didn't see that look on a lot of people, not around here. If he was to be honest, you didn't see it at Battle School much, either. But it was a look Ender recognised; a look that spoke a great deal about battles, about having people depend on you and not letting them down. He still found no childhood in it. She was a soldier.

And he knew about soldiers. Knew you didn't just earn their trust or their loyalty or even their kindness. But he had no particular interest in any of these, and so he simply held her gaze for a few long seconds before he flicked his eyes back to his food. Calmly, with no hint of fear.

If she had any particular beef with him, she'd make it clear. If she didn't, he felt little warmth for the idea of getting back into that.

"Hn." Temari looked down at her food and continued on with her own meal.

He could wait until she'd finished eating before approaching. And it didn't seem to be causing a direct threat at the moment...

Ender finished his meal as he'd finished any lunch over the past years of his life, with easy efficiency and as little consideration for taste as he possibly could. He was aware of her, still, of everyone else, but he chose to give them no attention.

At least not until the meal was done, his place left empty of any food whatsoever. His fork hit the tray, and he glanced up again, just to check who was still present.

Sipping her drink slowly, Temari was watching him again. Sizing him up for a fight if it came down to that.

Or maybe just trying to figure out how a seemingly normal child had a look she found in older ninja. One of those two.

"My name is Temari," She drawled after a long moment of silence.

So she did want to talk after all. His eyes found her quickly enough. His face remained neutral. "I'm Ender," Ender said, sitting back. "You were watching me."

"You were there," She pointed out, like that was reason enough for it. "And watching me as well."

"You're watching me like a soldier," Ender continued, his voice steady. He was examening her more openly, now that they'd mutually acknowledged the issue. "I'm not going to attack you."

"I'm not sure how else to watch someone like us." She raised an eyebrow at his other statement, trying not to seem too amused by it. "I'll take your word on that."

The statement would sound a little silly to her, he thought, but it was more for my benefit than anyone else's. Unaffected by any amusement on her part, Ender simply tilted his head, coming to some brand of decision on his own part. He held no interest in getting back into that game-- circumstances willing-- but he bode her no real ill will, either. "It wasn't meant for you," he said, without any malice. "It doesn't matter."

He wondered if she'd been sent here after a Battle School of her own; he wondered if maybe she was a spy, or some kind of control, but dismissed it. For the most part. She'd been too curious about him, as if she hadn't known him at all.

It could've been a trick. As it was, he simply didn't feel like playing.

After a moment of consideration for his words, Temari looked away. "What are you?"

He couldn't quite hide the little bolt of guilt that struck him straight in the stomach when she said that, but Ender's defenses were old by now, and his face managed to bury the brunt of it under the quiet disaffected mask he'd perfected by now. "I'm Ender Wiggin," he said, "That's all, more or less."

Unless she wanted to see where they'd put in the strings, before, one for each limb, one for each digit, but he wasn't going to share that.

"It wasn't an accusation," Temari said, uncrossing her legs and standing up.

"You asked," he replied, simply.

"Are you from this place? Like the others?"

That told him a few things. "You're not," Ender observed, "I take it the island displaced you through time and space?" That's what he'd picked up about the island-- seemingly random visitors from all ends of universes, known and unknown.

"Almost none of the technology exists where I come from," She admitted after a moment. "Are you?"

"No." Ender's tone held a faint edge to it; not quite a warning, but the assurance that he wouldn't go there, wasn't willing to go there, and that it wasn't important at all. He didn't want questions-- on some level, she'd recognised him for what he was, and he spent enough time having to deal with that on his own.

He was just tired of it. "I stayed for the food." He held up his tray.

Nodding in a sort of understanding, Temari looked away to give him some privacy again. It made sense to her, at least.

"There aren't many like us here."

"That's probably a good thing," he said, and then fell silent.

"Probably," She agreed and smoothed the lines of her dress as she stepped away from the table. "Try to smile. It will help."

Briefly, his mind flashed back to Valentine. It was silly, and it was stupid-- Temari was nothing like her at all.

But in the moment, Ender gave her a smile for that anyway, one that krept just slightly up into his cheeks before it fell back down again.

"Good to meet you, Ender," Temari said, nodding her head slightly.

"Good to meet you, Temari," he returned, because kindness deserved some kindness in return, especially if it came without pity. "I'll see you around."

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Lunch, Friday Noon

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