[ He regards her with amusement before he nods, widening his smile until he shows teeth. He chuckles lightly, inhaling deeply through his mouth, and shifts on his chair before he settles back against it all too comfortably.

Furrows his brows in amusement.]

Why are you apologising?

[ He knows why. Royals are so sensitive. None can take a lick of criticism in fear their fragility will finally shatter. But Nikolai's grown up without his title and crown, often treated like a nuisance than anything worth keeping around. It's why he always preferred Ketterdam. He could be himself, skin his knees, and know no one would think it a crime against the Ravkan crown.

Still, he smiles. ]

I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want the truth. And I must admit, not many people think to notice those little details about me. Not many people bother to look beyond the supposed heavy pockets and fluffy, golden hair.

[ He does have nice hair. ]

We eat… [ He tries to copy how she said "meat dough" in her language, but absolutely butchers "meat", so he settles for: ] pelmeni with our hands. But if you're more comfortable with a knife and fork, [ He gestures toward her utensils. ] then, by all means, eat that way. Perhaps there's something I'm missing out on by not doing so.