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The large television in Dave's apartment played its quiet movie tunes to the sound of the thrumming air conditioner manipulating the hot Houston air into something more palatable for human consumption. Something about rock and roll, what was the line - you may not like it yet, but your kids are gonna love it? It was mostly background noise that was necessary so that Dave didn't have to do much talking with his guest, and could instead focus on watching the movie while consuming supermarket sushi from a plastic container.
It wasn't like he disliked Feferi, at all, to be clear, it was just that he had no idea what to talk to her about, and she seemed very enraptured by every part of Dave's apartment, from the broken kitchen stuffed full of Bro's strange cooking experiments to the ramshackle MacGuyvered furniture that kept everything propped up. She did, in fact, spend literally like an hour oohing and aahing quietly over it all, which Dave had to admit didn't make him feel great about himself, but now they were watching a movie and it was... okay? Not great. Like, good movie, meh food, silence not quite awkward but not really un-awkward either, just sort of an awkwardly un-awkward middle ground where neither one of them seemed to be willing to be the first person to talk much.
So instead, they quietly ate very mediocre supermarket sushi. Bro brought it home as a special occasion for the guest, which was nice of him if not for the fact that it was supermarket sushi, with damp, soggy rice, almost inedible seaweed, intriguingly fake-tasting fish. At least the sesame seeds tasted like sesame seeds, and the wasabi was undoubtedly the shitty wasabi-colored horseradish that Dave wouldn't exchange for the world. Maybe if he was the one hanging over at Feferi's house, they would be, like, going over to some cool Hibachi restaurant or something, getting stuff with names like "Dragon Rolls" and watching an insanely skilled ninja-chef crack an egg on the edge of his spatula after tossing it into the air.
Instead, they had an IKEA table and plastic.
It sucked, but not in a way that was too terrible. It sucked in a manageable way, because Dave had extra wasabi, which he was gleefully drowning out the taste of imitation crab with. Hidden little Dave Strider secret he'd never tell you - he loved wasabi to the point of accidentally hurting his tongue with it. But not actual wasabi, which he has had only twice, once to see if he liked it and another time to confirm that he hated it - no, the stuff he liked tasted like the horseradish from Rose's weird Jewish holidays, in the form of a concentrated, play-doh like lump.
Feferi, however, was ripping her food to shreds in perhaps the least dignified manner possible. Dave didn't even know it was possible for someone with so much jewelry to physically be able to eat like an animal. There were droplets of soy sauce rolling down her chin, little flecks of rice flying out onto the paper towels used in place of napkins, greedily guzzling down dollar store store-brand cola from the nearby Aldis from its teeny little ice cold can. Her noises were voracious, almost dog-like, snarfing and swallowing down cheap flash-frozen "salmon" and sticky rice like it was ambrosia of the gods, her teeth snapping it in half like she was kicking through wooden boards. It was almost a little astounding to watch, and Dave realized that, for the past minute, he had been basically just staring at Feferi instead of watching the movie.
She cleared her plastic tin full of sushi in no time at all, exhaling quietly, letting out a little burp that was almost "cute", and then wiping her face clean carefully with the corner of her paper towel. "Man, that was great! Where did you say you got this from again?"
"Target." Dave replied, stunned.
"Hmm. Never heard of it! I'll have to go there when I get home!" Feferi giggled, turning her attention back to the movie.