<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/4/4a/Iris_Heart_-_Hyperdimension_Neptunia_-_2x3_portrait_-_mischeivous.png)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Natsuki Akuzawa<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Booth in a diner<br/><strong>Time:</strong>Second day, afternoon<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>School uniform, without panties<br/><strong>With:</strong>Biscuit<br/><br/><strong>“Caaa~ke~?”</strong>Natsuki’s eyebrows shot up. She may not know what corn bread was… but she sure knew what<em>cake</em>was. It looked like taking the plunge and ordering what Biscuit had was going to pay off.<br/><br/><strong>“Eh~... <em>eeeh~</em>,”</strong>she gasped once Biscuit started talking about mixing boards, a horrified expression on her face.<strong>“Th-that’s actually a <em>thing</em>?”</strong>She had had no idea that “acoustic engineer” might actually be a real job that a band would have – as far as she was concerned, a band was just the musicians and a manager.<strong>“No, no, no, I’m not <em>that</em>!”</strong>she tried to quickly correct the misunderstanding, waving her hands in front of her.<strong>“It’s just…,”</strong>she clammed up quickly, looking embarrassed. After all, explaining why she had been jokingly referred to as the acoustic engineer required explaining about her humiliating entry into the music room.<strong>“It’s hard to explain…,”</strong>she mumbled.<br/><br/>When the meals were brought to them, Natsuki was both surprised and perplexed. It certainly looked hearty, and the beans and carrots looked almost like candy. And of course, it was actual steak! That was a rare treat for Natsuki.<br/><br/>What perplexed her, though, was the knife and fork. Of course she’d used them before… back when she was quite young. But she’d hardly had cause to use them most of the time she was living with her father. They couldn’t afford anything hearty enough to require a knife and fork. And once she’d been locked up, they would never give her anything as dangerous as a knife and fork: floppy plastic chopsticks and spoons were all she ever got.<br/><br/>There was no way to avoid using them this time, though. Even if she asked for chopsticks, there was no way she could eat that steak with chopsticks.<br/><br/>So she picked up the knife and fork, warily. She had a vague notion of what to do: poke the fork in the steak to hold it still, and cut with the knife. So that’s what she did… jabbing the fork downward into the steak like she was committing a murder, then clumsily sawing around it in a very rough circle. It took some work, but she got a relatively bite-sized portion free. However, her momentary victorious grin vanished when she realized that she now had to switch hands to get the fork in her dominant hand… then twist her arm and lean her head to one side to actually get the meat off the tines.<br/><br/>It was awkward – both in how it looked and how it felt to do it – but it worked, and it paid off beautifully. She moaned with delight as the steak’s juices exploded into her mouth. It was so good, all thoughts of how silly she felt – and must have looked – vanished from her mind, and soon she was exuberantly going at her meal in her bizarre, awkward way.