Log: China and North Italy
Who: Wang Yao and Feliciano Vargas!
What: Noodles vs Pasta, round 37 and a half
Where: Hallway in front of Italy's Room
When: The Night of China's Introduction!
Warning: Copious amounts of Pasta, nothing lolserious. PG, probably
It would be five o'clock in Beijing right now. And that, no matter the time difference, meant dinner. He'd smuggled some important things with him. Books and teas, recipes and sayings, but more than all those things, he carried time and knowledge. The time would be later in Naples, but he knew that Feliciano would appreciate a snack at a time like this. Maybe even more snacks. So he carries two bowls of noodles with him. One of them is seasoned the way he likes it, with plenty of vegetables and still piping hot from the wok, slightly fried and tasting vaguely of soy sauce and home. The other is filled with flat pasta, or at least as flat as he could make his own noodles, with something approximating tomato sauce but much too chunky to count.
He knocks on the door to N. Italy's room with his elbow, and is very thankful he doesn't spill anything on his outfit.
What: Noodles vs Pasta, round 37 and a half
Where: Hallway in front of Italy's Room
When: The Night of China's Introduction!
Warning: Copious amounts of Pasta, nothing lolserious. PG, probably
It would be five o'clock in Beijing right now. And that, no matter the time difference, meant dinner. He'd smuggled some important things with him. Books and teas, recipes and sayings, but more than all those things, he carried time and knowledge. The time would be later in Naples, but he knew that Feliciano would appreciate a snack at a time like this. Maybe even more snacks. So he carries two bowls of noodles with him. One of them is seasoned the way he likes it, with plenty of vegetables and still piping hot from the wok, slightly fried and tasting vaguely of soy sauce and home. The other is filled with flat pasta, or at least as flat as he could make his own noodles, with something approximating tomato sauce but much too chunky to count.
He knocks on the door to N. Italy's room with his elbow, and is very thankful he doesn't spill anything on his outfit.