Work Text:
Kai kour, nam sai, bah mhee hang, kai yang, prik khing… (Fabiam smirks at that last dish – ‘prick king’ – he’s still a teen, after all.) So many choices but he can't figure out the ingredients. He orders prik khing (of course) and kai yang from the tablet and hopes for the best.
When the food arrives, he blanches; bell peppers and cilantro, foods he detests. Maybe he should stick to orange chicken and fried rice, but he’s so sick of them and he’s famished. He chokes down the food, alone.
If only someone could help him figure all this out.