Hayate repeated the name several times in his head, to fix it very firmly with the face. Though "Tousaki Ryouma" sounded oddly familiar, he couldn't match it with anything. So instead he just nodded.

Ryouma was much taller than he was, and broader in the shoulders. Hayate slid back a half-step and tilted his head just a tad to keep eye-contact.

"Food or flesh," a phrase that provoked the most interesting mental images, probably meant either dinner or a spar.

What's with older agents and owing me food? he wondered, remembering his meeting with Tsume earlier in the week. I mean, I'm a twig, but I can't look that skinny.

Encouraged by Ryouma's smile and jovial attitude, Hayate considered trailing along after the man to get dinner. He had originally come down here for a bit of a workout, but asking Ryouma for a spar seemed a bit unfair, considering the man was already tired...and apparently fresh off medical leave. And besides...it was indeed time to eat, his stomach declared, with a growl.

Hayate blinked down at his stomach, then smiled crookedly up at Ryouma. "Food it is, apparently," he said, wryly.

"If you don't mind," he tacked on, almost as an afterthought, once again recalling that Ryouma, for all his friendliness, was a more senior agent. The politics of age and rank were often complicated, but Hayate could play the game with the best of them. He was good at it.