Paul lifts his head from behind Kaworu's, eyes narrowed in glittering challenge amid the smeared remnants of last night's eyeliner.
"I don't think Midoriya-kun has any eggplants at hand," Paul says, archly, "And Sensei Lawrence comes from a martial culture which prizes physical vigor as an aspect of manhood. I'm sure the gift is intended symbolically."
Paul has watched enough of the films suggested by Sensei Lawrence (and requested by Gideon on a semi-regular basis) to have reasonable confidence in his ability to sell the improvised sociological explanation if pressed. He's not going to sit idly by while people impugn his sensei, even if they're mostly right.
The comments on sizing of fruit, so to speak, don't bother him. They're practically nostalgic, like the crudely affectionate ribbing of soldiers.
"Besides, even an eggplant might not be sufficient to fill these," he says, mildly speculative, "Now, if we had a relatively small sand worm to protect from the rain...nothing inside gets wet, yes?"
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"I don't think Midoriya-kun has any eggplants at hand," Paul says, archly, "And Sensei Lawrence comes from a martial culture which prizes physical vigor as an aspect of manhood. I'm sure the gift is intended symbolically."
Paul has watched enough of the films suggested by Sensei Lawrence (and requested by Gideon on a semi-regular basis) to have reasonable confidence in his ability to sell the improvised sociological explanation if pressed. He's not going to sit idly by while people impugn his sensei, even if they're mostly right.
The comments on sizing of fruit, so to speak, don't bother him. They're practically nostalgic, like the crudely affectionate ribbing of soldiers.
"Besides, even an eggplant might not be sufficient to fill these," he says, mildly speculative, "Now, if we had a relatively small sand worm to protect from the rain...nothing inside gets wet, yes?"