"It's filthy in here," Taiga countered, but he walked back out to the entryway and toed off his shoes, putting on the slippers. It was a familiar enough motion—he just hadn't wanted to be barefoot and have no power in his kicks.<br/><br/>He followed the man's directions, thinking over his words. What did he think he wanted of him?<br/><br/>He hadn't prepared a table like this since he was at home for the holidays as a teen. He hadn't seen his parents for years after he was kidnapped. He'd walked back into their lives a different person, a man instead of a boy, twenty-one and not the teenager they'd last known.<br/><br/>But he remembered the motions, they were even familiar, and comforting. He knelt on the cushions and picked up the chopsticks. He was even nice enough to pour the tea for Mashi when he pulled open the windows.<br/><br/>"It's nice here," he said, waiting until Mashi came over to the table before he started, disinclined to be impolite. "The breeze smells sweet. It's rustling the trees."<br/><br/>"I expected to be tortured," Taiga said calmly, finally answering his question. "Maybe killed. Kidnappings generally end in unpleasantness. The last time I was kidnapped I was kept in a cell underground for months, only let out to be trained or work a brothel."<br/><br/>He didn't say it lightly, it was information he parted with unwillingly. But it felt oddly right to say it to Kimihiro's brother. Taiga leaned back on his hand, his chopsticks held gracefully in his hand and his wrist resting against the edge of the table.<br/><br/>"This does not seem to be heading in that direction, but I think you meant it to, so I admit I don't understand."