International Cuisine | Monday, first period

[sharp_as_knives]

"Good morning," Hannibal greeted the class when they arrived at Portalocity. "We'll be heading off for dinner today - the vagaries of international times." Not that he couldn't have gotten a portal to a different time, but there seemed no point at present.

"Today we're going to Tokyo, Japan. Seafood is much more prominent in Japanese cuisine than in the French we had last week, as are rice and noodles; the sauces tend to be lighter. We'll be dining at Mikawa Zezankyo, a restaurant that serves tempura - seafood and vegetables, deep fried. Specifically, this one serves food in the style called Edomae tempura - tempura in the style of the Edo period, approximately one hundred fifty years ago. The chef uses traditional ingredients and techniques that would not have been out of place then."

Their portal opened and he ushered them all through to a small, mostly residential street, where they stood outside an unassuming door. "Chef Tetsuya Saotome prepares all the food himself and will be standing in front of you, so I trust you will all use your best behavior," he told them. "I will demonstrate the use of chopsticks to those of you who've never used them, and I trust your classmates who know how will also help. Also, when we enter, you'll need to remove your shoes and leave them by the door; it's tradition and proper etiquette. If you have any questions, please ask me, as the chef and his assistants do not speak English."

Bailing 101, Monday

[suitably_heroic]

"Hey, congratulations," Atton said, "If you're in class right now, I'm going to assume your weekend wasn't traumatic enough to cause you to bail." And that was the end of that lecture.

Honestly, he wasn't sure what exactly had happened. His memories were kind of fuzzy. Which wasn't the greatest place to be in when he was planning to sneak off to go find a mythical planet after class, but that was just the way things worked today, apparently.

"We're on Step Two today," he said. "Tying up loose ends. This is usually the one that seems the hardest, because inevitably you're going to have to cut something loose that you used to have."

Why did that make him think about the weekend? Weird.

"It doesn't need to be anything big," he said. "Maybe you accidentally walked into a fight and what you have to ditch is just whatever feeling is trying to drive you to keep walking into it instead of out. Or maybe a friend's involved, but he's dug himself in so deep that pulling him out is suicide. I know we're all big on 'help out your buddies' around here, but trust me, sometimes the only thing that happens when you get involved is that you bear a copy of the consequences of your buddy's actions. Sometimes getting out of something alive means sacrificing someone to their own hubris, and you need to be strong enough to weather that choice."

He shrugged and sat down on his desk.

"On a larger scale, tying up loose ends means making sure there isn't a trace of you left behind for anyone to follow," he said. "That can be a person - some people are notoriously hard to shake, they'll chase you down to the ends of the galaxy if you don't find a convincing way to cut them loose. Make them hate you, but not too much, or they'll chase you down to get back at you. Make them fear you, but not too much, either, or they might feel they have to protect other people from you." He shrugged. "Or maybe the easiest way is to claim you've got something else going on, clear your place of any sign of where you might be going, and just up and vanish. Maybe your reputation allows you to be callous enough to say 'hey, it's been a nice friendship, but I'm out of here' and have them believe it."

He kicked his feet back against the desk. "The more practical side of it is making sure you can't be followed, period," he said. "Make the date you're leaving as hard to make out as possible. Don't cancel any club memberships you might have, but definitely cancel any newspaper subscriptions. You don't want someone tracking down the exact date you left based on how many of them are lying on your mat. Either take or wreck any technology you have lying around. Don't tell anyone where you're going until you're sure of them, and then wait until a week after you leave anyway. Clear out your fridge. And if you have a job, make sure to give them your two week's notice in time, but tell your friends you took a vacation."

"It's the dirtiest part of leaving," Atton finished up, looking around the class. "It's not fun, it'll probably hurt. But if you don't do it, whatever trouble you're trying to escape will come find you."

He clapped his hands. "So, let's practice the worst part," he said cheerfully. "Find a partner and find a way to convince them to stay off your back permanently while you make your escape."