Then you should at least have one of these busboys sweep up the pieces. [He gestures to the students who rolled out the cake.] A fine mosaic could be made from the broken pieces of that china. One could make a mirror, a vase, or even a chandelier from them as well.
[He'd be more inclined to complain some more about the smashing if he wasn't being plied with sweets. And not just any sweets, but delicious French pastry! Shu bites into the vanilla macaron next, and finds that one to be just as delectable as the raspberry. His attention drifts, however, when Riddle explains who made the sweets, eyes flickering with interest. A childhood best friend...? Has Riddle ever mentioned such a person?
Shu follows Riddle's gaze over to the tall, bespectacled man standing some distance away. At a glance, he resembles someone Shu isn't too fond of. But the smirk breaks the resemblance; humorless Hasumi, insufferable vice president of the student council, would never wear such an expression.
He isn't sure what to make of the man or his relationship with Riddle. His baking, on the other hand, is very easy to assess. That's the part Shu feels most qualified to comment on.]
I would've assumed this party had been catered by a professional pâtissier, flown all the way from France. Great things can be accomplished when one chooses a pursuit early on and devotes one's life to it; these sweets are a testament to that fact.
[And so are Shu's costumes, including the broomstick-riding outfit he made specially for Riddle—or at least he'd like to think so. That particular costume is still sitting in its suitcase underneath the table. Shu isn't thinking about it right now, however; instead he's focused on Riddle's wording. "Even when we were children..." Did Riddle eat his friend's sweets in secret, Shu wonders? Or did his tyrannical mother forbid him from having so much as a taste?
He doesn't get the chance to ask, or to inquire further about this "Trey" person. As soon as Riddle's last words sink in, Shu's eyes go wide, and he flies into a panic.]
Mademoiselle...! That's right, she disappeared! Has she been captured again? Where is she?
[His head whips back and forth as he scans the surrounding area, eyes roving over all of the dessert and debris. He looks to the left, he looks to the right... nothing. He's just about to check under the table when he catches sight of something shimmery in the corner of his eye, hovering just above his field of vision. And in that moment, the words come to him unbidden, exiting his lips in a high-pitched giggle.]
Fufu.
[Shu snaps his neck up.]
Mademoi— ... Good lord. You've taken flight?
No, it's more like floating. I'm in a bubble, see? I've been here this whole time. You don't need to worry.
You're asking the impossible. One minute you were seated on your cushion; the next you'd disappear. Of course I was worried.
[As usual, Shu effortlessly switches between speaking in his own voice and doing the ventriloquism. He's a little leery about letting Mademoiselle continue to float around in what appears to be a physics-defying soap bubble, but for the time being, at least, she seems safe.]
I guess there's no helping it. I wish you'd relax a little more, though... After all, this is your "unbirthday" party. And I'm sure Riddle-chan and his friends would never hurt me. Right, Riddle-chan?
no subject
[He'd be more inclined to complain some more about the smashing if he wasn't being plied with sweets. And not just any sweets, but delicious French pastry! Shu bites into the vanilla macaron next, and finds that one to be just as delectable as the raspberry. His attention drifts, however, when Riddle explains who made the sweets, eyes flickering with interest. A childhood best friend...? Has Riddle ever mentioned such a person?
Shu follows Riddle's gaze over to the tall, bespectacled man standing some distance away. At a glance, he resembles someone Shu isn't too fond of. But the smirk breaks the resemblance; humorless Hasumi, insufferable vice president of the student council, would never wear such an expression.
He isn't sure what to make of the man or his relationship with Riddle. His baking, on the other hand, is very easy to assess. That's the part Shu feels most qualified to comment on.]
I would've assumed this party had been catered by a professional pâtissier, flown all the way from France. Great things can be accomplished when one chooses a pursuit early on and devotes one's life to it; these sweets are a testament to that fact.
[And so are Shu's costumes, including the broomstick-riding outfit he made specially for Riddle—or at least he'd like to think so. That particular costume is still sitting in its suitcase underneath the table. Shu isn't thinking about it right now, however; instead he's focused on Riddle's wording. "Even when we were children..." Did Riddle eat his friend's sweets in secret, Shu wonders? Or did his tyrannical mother forbid him from having so much as a taste?
He doesn't get the chance to ask, or to inquire further about this "Trey" person. As soon as Riddle's last words sink in, Shu's eyes go wide, and he flies into a panic.]
Mademoiselle...! That's right, she disappeared! Has she been captured again? Where is she?
[His head whips back and forth as he scans the surrounding area, eyes roving over all of the dessert and debris. He looks to the left, he looks to the right... nothing. He's just about to check under the table when he catches sight of something shimmery in the corner of his eye, hovering just above his field of vision. And in that moment, the words come to him unbidden, exiting his lips in a high-pitched giggle.]
Fufu.
[Shu snaps his neck up.]
Mademoi— ... Good lord. You've taken flight?
No, it's more like floating. I'm in a bubble, see? I've been here this whole time. You don't need to worry.
You're asking the impossible. One minute you were seated on your cushion; the next you'd disappear. Of course I was worried.
[As usual, Shu effortlessly switches between speaking in his own voice and doing the ventriloquism. He's a little leery about letting Mademoiselle continue to float around in what appears to be a physics-defying soap bubble, but for the time being, at least, she seems safe.]
I guess there's no helping it. I wish you'd relax a little more, though... After all, this is your "unbirthday" party. And I'm sure Riddle-chan and his friends would never hurt me. Right, Riddle-chan?