"Ah, but what you could do is an impossibility for me. A less generous beast would resent you divinities having the luxury of choice." Sato fluttered her coal lashes to show she was not such brute. "Please, sit. Would you like a drink? I'd offer more impressive fare, but today's our early close."
It was a tradition Masque's staff readily embraced; every other couple of weeks, the restaurant would serve a very early dinner and then all staff received a mandatory leave. It was paid, it didn't subtract from the contracted time off, and nobody dared risk the benefits by asking why. Not when the murals were answer enough. It was a mild distraction with the staff, the game of guessing how exactly Masque's infamous decorations were changed with every month; nobody ever managed to find actual evidence of work. But come the next day, the bewitching scenery would be replaced with similar, equally attractive kin. The "tradition" bred a storm of rumors and theories.
Sato rather liked the noise. It helped assure that people had entirely the wrong idea about things.
Briskly, she checked the mixture again and then set it to thicken over ice. "They still love the taste, but Mischa resents having anything simply given to her and Allegra will take nothing from my hand. I'm making this batch for the hotel doorman. Very lovely chap, actually."
Satisfied with the bowl placement and the ice's work, Sato turned to Marijuana. "My sympathies to your sister. Turning human must be...profoundly disconcerting. Personally, it took me years to accept the lack of tail. But this does bring us closer to topic." Sato picked up another towel and began wiping her hands. "I invited you here, kami-sama, to share a secret. Yet now that you're actually here, I find the prospect quelling. Please forgive this prelude."
Hands dry, Sato untied her apron revealing a deceptively simple gray dress. It softened the lines of her body, made the Baku look slight and sparse.
"I do like you, Marijuana," she said simply. "You're earnest and quick, and still feel the need to love what made you. It's charming--even if you do have an indigestible family. Also Mi-chan is growing noticeably fond of your devotees and frankly I'd rather she dote on them than on that damn horse."
"But I'm a crusty, mistrustful hag leery of sharing what's been guarded this long." Sato shrugged. "Past a certain age secrets are the only enduring company one has. So, before our night goes anywhere past this kitchen, I must ask: do you swear on the dreams of your kin and your people to keep what I tell you private?"
"Take heed, kami-sama," the Baku warned softly. "My kind has no gods or king or courts, but we take oaths most seriously. We are born of dreams and dreams have no understanding of time; our grudges are...lengthy."