Vic's stomach didn't have the class or restraint that Mr. Beaubier's did, and it growled very loudly as the bag was opened and Vic's meal handed over. He grimaced slightly, but he was hungry and, hey, sixteen year old boy, he had even less control over his stomach than he did over some other recalcitrant portions of his anatomy. And it smelled amazing, like usual.
He made himself set his own container aside long enough to grab the remote and start the movie, then grabbed his own chopsticks and settled back cross-legged on the couch with his food in his lap and his bottle of soda tucked between himself and the arm of the couch.
"Yeah, I'll take a pass, thanks," he answered, smiling as he stripped his own chopsticks out of their paper. He was kind of crap at keeping kosher, but he did at least try to avoid pork, mostly out of some vague guilt instilled by his Nana Borkowski. The whole not eating meat and dairy thing, though? He liked beef on his pizza, thanks. And his parents had kept less and less kosher as time went by, so even on the rare occasions when he broke down and had a slice of bacon at breakfast or a piece of pepperoni pizza he didn't feel too horrible about it.
"Are you going home tomorrow or are you stuck babysitting the stayovers?" he asked around a mouthful of chow mein as the opening credits on the movie started. He didn't really know anything other than Mr. Beaubier had said he'd still be around today, after all.