"A lot," Donovan repeated in agreement, finishing setting out the food and filling his own glass of water. "It's the only reason Altan keeps me around," because he had to contribute something to make up for his inability to fully pay his portion of the rent. He nodded his head toward the table in indication that Kyu-Sik should take a seat, removing the apron and draping it over the back of his chair. The navy sweater underneath was chosen as one of his nicer, the too-long sleeves pushed up around his elbows to expose far more of his pale arms than he usually was comfortable.
"I don't really like to eat at restaurants," he admitted his preference with a small shrug, remembering he had managed to do so twice that month already and hoping to avoid doing so for any foreseeable future. Not that the company was bad, not that the food was bad. He couldn't justify the cost when it was just as easy for him to make his own meals for cheaper, didn't like having to bother a waiter even though that was an expected part of the service. And being crowded in with so many other diners was unappealing, reminding him too closely of strained family dinners that always dwindled his appetite and lasted far too long with no polite way to dismiss himself.
Taking a seat across from Kyu-Sik, Donovan played with the edge of the paper napkin. Was he supposed to describe the meal, or was it self-explanatory? As far as he could guess the ingredients were all identifiable enough, and if Kyu-Sik had any allergies then he would have expressed them before. Right? He didn't want to be responsible for accidentally killing the boy. Instead, he served a rather large heap of the salad onto his guest's plate, with a look that said [i]you better eat it all.[/i]