This was quite the surprise.

You never took Medkit for the type to go out of his way to invite someone—especially to a social outing like this. He was usually a solitary figure, more comfortable in his own company than in the presence of others. So the idea of him choosing to spend time with you, in such an elegant setting no less, was unexpected.

You glanced around the restaurant. The low hum of conversation, the gentle clink of silverware, the soft flicker of candlelight placed between the two of you—it was a place where only the finest dishes were served. Of course, Medkit wouldn’t settle for anything less. His taste in food matched the precision and care he applied to everything else, and you knew he’d only be here because the restaurant lived up to his exact standards.

Medkit sat across from you, his eyes briefly catching the candle's flame before returning to the menu. There was a deliberate care in the way he studied the options, as if each item required precise evaluation. Typical of him, really—nothing was ever done on a whim.

You shifted slightly in your seat, still adjusting to the idea that you were here, with him, in a place like this. It wasn’t that you minded—quite the opposite. But the fact that Medkit had invited you, of all people, to share a meal in such an intimate, refined setting left you quietly intrigued.

“So,” you started, breaking the comfortable yet charged silence, “why here?”

Medkit’s eyes flicked up from the menu, his expression unreadable, as usual. “Why not?” he responded, but it wasn’t dismissive. There was something more behind it. “This place... has a reputation. High standards. Precision in everything they serve.”

“It’s... suitable,” he paused, then added, “And I thought you’d appreciate it.”

A subtle shift in tone. He wasn’t just here because it suited his taste. He’d chosen this place because he thought you would enjoy it too.

Medkit promptly lifted the menu once more, just high enough to obscure most of his face. "Is there anything you want to eat?" he asked.