Beaming, Braska added, "I hope not. I'm hungry!"

Jecht just grinned lazily at them both and continued to play percussion. Dink off his dinner plate and donk off the glass candleholder and dink! off his water glass...

"Stop it!" Auron hissed, fixing Jecht with his flattest glare. And for a miracle Jecht subsided. Well, he decided to start spinning his fork around in his fingers and poking at the candle flame with it instead; for Jecht, close enough. Auron went back to his menu, mollified. Braska made the contents of the bread basket vanish into his sleeves, looking innocent. Leaving the fork resting atop the candleholder, Jecht drained off the contents of his water glass and belched.

Two minutes later, his face completely vacant, Jecht pulled the tines of the fork out of the candle and slapped Auron's arm with it.

Auron almost screamed. He came so close before his training kicked in and he merely hissed in pain and surprise instead, jerking his arm away. Jecht immediately dropped the fork, his eyes widening. "Oh shit! I, damn! I just meant to poke you... I wasn't thinking!"

"Of course you weren't thinking!" Auron nearly yelled, clutching at his forearm. The very clear imprint of a fork was burned into the skin a couple of inches down from his wrist, all four tines, and the smell of burnt meat wafted up to all three of them. "You never think! I don't think you can!"

To his credit, Jecht did at least look mortified. Even if he was sputtering with laughter.

Braska leaned over and examined Auron's arm, tsking. "Oh dear. That's going to scar, I'm afraid... we'll get you a bracer or something to cover it. Don't worry."

"Scar?" Auron gaped at Braska, rubbing at the burn. "I'm going to have a fork burnt into my arm for the rest of my life thanks to this moron?"

"Looks that way," Braska cheerfully agreed, picking up the empty bread basket and waving it at the waitress. "More bread, please!"