Oh, [comes softly as he accepts the knife, though before he can protest lan wangji going to look for another, the man is already gone. sizhui wrinkles his nose, sheepishly downcasts his gaze as he turns back to the sandwich, takes the few seconds he needs to cut it into two triangles like hanguang-jun had done. honestly, he's not embarrassed by the favoritism, he's embarrassed that he enjoys it. at least he's his usual observant self and watches where he gathers another utensil from.]

So...da...? It's something you drink?

[and how is a drink ‘sharp’ in whatever sense? like it cuts going down as if one was swallowing glass or—? oh, that sounds awful! it surely couldn't be anything such as that, goodness no.]

Hanguang-jun, [sizhui chimes, attention momentarily diverted (enraptured, really) by the idea,] once we've finished here, may we try some? Perhaps, if you aren't too busy, we might go to the dining hall together?

You could show me some of the things you've tried! I'm curious about what all they have here besides— [a fleeting glance down again then right back up, his mouth quirking on one side.] Well, besides what we're making. [maybe he's a little more wary than he's letting on, after all.]