Ben Dover [...Dr. Rhodes]

[Clement Evans]

It was hard to be passionate about something he had such a limited relationship with, if just Western food was taken into account. Staples at home had been bread and either peanut butter or jam from the dollar store, canned chicken noodle soup bought on sale in bulk, off-brand cereal, and dented cans of vegetables. And water. Clement had been used to having a can, a spoon, and the can opener thrown at him at some point by one of his 'babysitters' when dinnertime rolled around, and grabbing either a piece of bread with one of the two condiments mentioned or a few handfuls of cereal for breakfast. The money for school lunch was first appropriated by Dave Shilbaugh, and when that notable was jailed, by Phil Nelson. Not that Clement minded so much, he used lunchtime and recess to sleep. So if Clement was not enthusiastic about food, before coming to Hammel he hadn't had much to be enthused about.

"You won't want that to happen but that's what's going to happen. Just warning ya."

The look Clement gave Ben probably had a swear word in it somewhere, along with a generous helping of annoyance.

"No, no... children eat for free at our stall."

"Liar." But what was he going to do about it? Clement felt a little trapped. It wasn't like he didn't have money or needed charity. "And I'm not a child."

He felt uncomfortable in the presence of the guy's parents. Since they seemed so... happy. Like they liked Ben. Clement had always been nervous around other kids' parents. None of them acted like his Dad (who never came to exhibits or parent's day or other events), and it made Clement feel like he was... doing things wrong. Or that he was just... bad. As bad as his files said he was. If he wasn't, maybe his Dad would... he didn't know, smile at him or talk to him more often or just be around more.

He looked away when Ben's mom kissed him and he kissed her back, and squinted up at them when he was introduced, shrugging, not knowing what else to do. There was a board with prices and what they sold, but Clement couldn't see it well enough to read it.

Turned out to be a moot point when suddenly a big plate of... what the fuck was it? Was shoved into his hands. It took Clement's brain a minute to connect what dots there were. It smelled vaguely familiar, but the only Western noodles Clement had ever eaten were the kind in Campbell's chicken noodle or the little circles in generic Spaghetti-Ohs. What he was looking at had the shape from one but smelled like the other, and Clement had no idea in hell how to eat it.

"Do you want some cheese on that, honey?"

Looking up, Clement blinked at her. Cheese? On this? Really? "Uh... n-no?"

Blushing, he studied his plate. A plastic fork had been stuck into it, and he gingerly picked it up. Clement had used a fork maybe twice in his life, neither successfully. Feeling stupid, he stuck it into the tangle and lifted.

This wasn't going to end well.

[Benjamin Rhodes]

Clement's look of annoyance made Ben grin. He wasn't sure why but it definitely reminded him of someone he knew. It was really vaguely familiar.

Getting called out for lying made Ben chuckle and shrug. "You're shorter than my wife, in my books, that's a child." Ben's dad grinned and his mother swatted him playfully in the arm. "Hey," she exclaimed in defense even though she knew he was just teasing.

Ben chuckled and waved a dismissive hand in his parents direction. The steaming pile of pasta made Ben a little hungry so he asked his mother for one then asked his dad for the shaker and basically covered the whole plate with cheese shavings.

He noticed Clement struggling with the fork and frowned. "I'll see you later, folks." He waved at his parents who waved back. "Don't forget to come back for desserts! We've got caramel pudding." Mrs. Rhodes announced and Ben lit up like a Christmas tree. "You added that in? Sweet." He grinned and patted Clement on the shoulder and asked him to follow Ben to one of the many benches dotting the fair.

"Little dude...do you uh...know how to use that?" Ben asked, sliding on to the bench before starting to mix the cheese into the pasta.

[Clement Evans]

Ben's reactions to his glares reminded him a little of Lyra, a little of Jesse, but were still fairly unique. He was used to getting a glare back, and then something about attitude and shaping up, or if he was at home, a swat across the face. Getting smiled at was... a little weird.

Mr. Rhodes' definition of 'child' did not include his son, Clement noted, and just barely included him. It wasn't often Clement met adults (well, white adults) who were as close to his height as Mrs. Rhodes. It was disconcerting to have one almost eye to eye with him, and he blushed a little when she smiled at him and frowned a little, reflexively. Defensively. Closer... seriously, that was cheese? It was in little particles, like... sand. Clement's eyes flew wide when Ben dumped what looked like half the container on his own plate.

Toying with the fork, he didn't pay attention to the conversation, watching the strands slip out between the... what were they, fork... arms? Hooks? Bars? Clement wished he'd brought some chopsticks, but how was he supposed to know he'd end up with food that needed utensils? Clement used the chopsticks Ajima had packed in the doshirak in the cafeteria, and damn whoever thought that was weird. And this whatever it was was probably more than three dollars. The closest Korean equivalent were somyeon, but somyeon were much thinner and Clement had only eaten them cold.

Following Ben, he sat down with a bit of space between himself and the big man and regarded his meal.

"Little dude... do you uh... know how to use that?"

"Use what." If Clement's voice was a little sharper or more sullen than normal... well, he was perplexed. And confused. And didn't know what to do. He watched Ben stir up his plateful of almost-somyeon-kind-of-Spaghetti-Ohs, squinting to see better till his eyes were half shut.

[Benjamin Rhodes]

Clement's response to Ben's question made him laugh out in surprise. It also brought on a set of questions he so wanted to ask about Clement's upbringing. And what the hell is up with the squinting?

"The fork, Clement. The fork. Do you know how to use it?" Ben asked, pointing to the four tined utensil. "And...I hate to sound condescending but do you even know what this is?" He asked, gesturing to the fork and the plate of spaghetti. He really did hate to sound so condescending but it really looked like Clement was struggling to human.

[Clement Evans]

At the laugh, Ben got the flattest look possible that definitely had cuss words in it, but Clement was too confounded to get them out of his mouth.

"The fork, Clement. The fork. Do you know how to use it?"

If he'd been a cat, all the hair along his spine and on the back of his neck would've been standing up and he probably would've hissed. He considered the lie, but then he'd be proven wrong the second he tried to eat. So, low, he admitted, "Not really."

"And... I hate to sound condescending but do you even know what this is?"

Clement did not know what 'condescending' meant, but by the context he gathered it meant 'like an asshole'. Looking down at his still uneaten plate, he gave it another poke with the fork. "It's... myeon... noodles. With stuff on it."

[Benjamin Rhodes]

Ben's smile softened at Clement's answer and briefly thought it was ridiculous that a child grew up not knowing how to use a fork.

"Uh yeah...the dish is called spaghetti. The noodles is called pasta. Kinda like ramen. Only...less dry, I would say." He pointed to his plate and grinned proudly. "This one especially since my mother always makes them fresh. I don't know how she does it but business is booming. I mean I'm not saying meta but you know." He grinned, turning to look at his mother and waving to her.

"Okay so with this, you're gonna twirl the pasta because I don't know, man, it just tastes better that way. So, here." He demonstrated with his own plate and jammed the big ball of spaghetti into his mouth, quietly moaning at the hot deliciousness that was his mother's cooking. "I swear, the food just gets better every time I eat there. Okay...your turn."

[Clement Evans]

Lacking context, it was ridiculous that Clement couldn't use a fork. Or knew how to dial a phone, tie a necktie, ride a bike, make a bed, use a DVD player, or order at a restaurant, amongst other things. If Ben had any context, he'd probably find it amazing Clement could identify it at all.

"...S-Spa-getty." He frowned. "Ramyeon is just like this except... curly."

The 'making fresh' more or less went over his head, but he was happy Ben's parents were doing well. Ajima worked in a restaurant in Koreatown, and he knew it was hard work.

Clement watched Ben wind the pasta around his fork till it resembled the head of a microphone and then stick the whole thing in his mouth. Yeah. Like he was going to do that. It was difficult to raise one eyebrow while squinting, but Clement managed.

When it was 'his turn', he gingerly turned his fork, not in the middle of his plate but near the edge. The result was a much smaller ball of red noodles that started to unravel as he brought it up to his mouth and left things hanging out. He didn't know what to do with them, did he suck them in or bite them off or just chew or what? Clement went for biting them off and let them fall back onto his plate.

Yeah, it was good, though his face didn't show it. Different from Spaghetti-Ohs, but in a good way. The noodles were firmer, the sauce spicier, though it was a little weird to eat it hot. The trailer had had a hotplate, but Clement had not been allowed to use it and his sitters couldn't be arsed. He wiped his mouth with the back of his right hand, saw it came away red, and licked it off.

Looking at Ben's plate again, he had to ask. "What cheese looks like that? Like sand. Or is like that dusty stuff they put on Cheetos?"

[Benjamin Rhodes]

"Yep, just repeat after me. Spaghetti. Yeah, curly. And some pasta has a curly texture too." Ben nodded, enjoying the smell of his food immensely.

Ben immediately saw what Clement was doing wrong but said nothing, waiting for him to realise it on his own. The fact that Clement had no expression whatsoever deflated Ben a little, the food enthusiast that he was, but he shrugged it off and continued to devour his food. Table etiquette flew out the window when dealing with Mama Rhodes' food.

He grinned when Clement licked his hand.

"Oh! This is parmesan. It's basically grated cheese. It's...well, the cheese on Cheetos is processed cheese. Chemicals. Lots of it." Ben explained. He did enjoy the occasional processed cheese product but most of the time, fresh is better. Lots better. "This," he pointed to his food with his fork. "This came from a block of freshly made cheese. Of course, one would argue how fresh cheese actually is since it's...you know...basically fermented milk but! it tastes amazing. Wanna try?" He pushed his plate over to Clement.

[Clement Evans]

Clement didn't say the word after Ben, but he mouthed it as he looked down at his plate. He wound the noodles again around his fork, nearer to the middle this time, but when he came up with a mass he'd never fit in his mouth he let it slide off. Maybe Ben was okay doing that, Clement wasn't. He ate a few more forkfuls, thinking it was pretty nice but that he might not be able to finish everything on his plate. It was... filling.

He frowned a little at Ben's description and said, "Isn't grated cheese... longer? Like... little lines?" And then, "Cheese is fermented milk? Like... milk kimchi?"

Or milk beer, except that apparently fermented milk turned into a solid. Clement knew milk was in cheese, but he didn't know quite how it got there. Now he pictured clay onggis full of milk buried in the ground to turn into cheese, the way doenjang and kimchi were traditionally made. That probably wasn't the way it happened, but it was interesting to imagine.

At the offer to try it, Clement looked at Ben's face for a moment, as if trying to see if there was any tricking going on. There wasn't, and the offer seemed genuine, so he stuck his fork in near the edge of the man's plate and inexpertly snagged a few strands coated so liberally with the par-meh-zan. Getting them into his mouth with a little difficulty, he frowned. Ben's spa-getty was... drier, somehow, and the cheese made it taste powdery and a little... dusty? The cheese was salty and a little bitter and it was sort of like eating sand. Clement thought he might like it if there were less of it, but Ben's plate had been swimming in it.

But he didn't say anything, just shrugged. He took a bite of his own and... yep, better. "Why'd you put so much on it?"


*onggi - a traditional clay vessel used to store fermenting food
*doenjang - fermented bean paste

[Benjamin Rhodes]

"That's another type of grated cheese. That's mozarella. That's usually for pizzas and stuff. You've eaten pizza, yeah?" He asked as he scooped more pasta into his mouth.

The mention of kimchi made Ben frown. "Isn't that like pickled veggies?" He asked.

Clement's hesitance brought another frown on Ben's face, making the psychologist wonder at how badly this child was treated before that even a simple offer of food had to be treaded with caution.

"Mm?" Looking down, Ben grinned at the amount of cheese. "I like the taste." He shrugged in explanation.

[Clement Evans]

"Pizza?" That was one of those foods that his 'babysitters' had ordered a lot but had never shared, usually while laughing at him as he ate his can of cheap unheated vegetables. Clement knew what it was, knew what it looked like, but had never had it, and by the time he'd been in a place where it was available he'd refused it out of principle. They served it at Hammel sometimes, but he took other things on those days. Picking at his spaghetti, he said, reluctantly, "No."

It had shocked a lot of kids when he'd said that at school back in Cali, but ordered pizza was expensive and the trailer had not had an oven (and if the assholes who watched him were going to tease him with it he didn't want any). Clement didn't consider it a loss.

"I-I don't know what 'pickled' means," he finally admitted, frowning down at his plate. "But Ajima s-said kimchi is fermented. Balhyo." He shrugged.

Clement watched Ben eat while he inelegantly slurped up his own noodles. He guessed he must like it that way, or he would've have covered his plate in parmesan dust. After what seemed like every other mouthful, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, which took a reddish tint to it. The plate was 2/3 empty when he had to stop. He was full. It had been pretty good, if messy.

"Did you want the rest?" he asked. Clement had eaten around the edges, so the middle part was still relatively untouched by his fork. He didn't have anything to take it back in (and was not going to put it in his thermos), and it seemed a shame to just throw it out.

[Benjamin Rhodes]

Ben pouted a little when the boy professed that he had never eaten pizza. And the part in him that was the actual professional was triggered. A whole tirade of questions started in his mind. It was one thing for you not to teach your child the basic uses of a fork, but if the most basic food eluded him and he looked like a ten year old when he was in all actuality fourteen, something got fucked up in the middle.

He hardly thought it was appropriate to overanalyse a child he just met, and to vocalise it to said child was just ridiculous so Ben kept quiet. He needed to talk to Sean about this because there was abuse and then there was just inhumane.

Listening to Clement, Ben nodded and gave the younger man a little smile. "You learn something new every day, eh?" He shrugged and continued eating.

When the boy asked if he wanted the rest of his food, Ben frowned slightly, seeing as it didn't look like it had even moved an inch but he kept quiet about it as he planned to have it boxed up.

"Uh no, but I can box it up for you if you want. You can keep it in the fridge when you get back and then when you're ready to eat it, just put it in the microwave for like four minutes."

[Clement Evans]

Clement shrugged. He'd rather learn about spaghetti than adverbs, though his short time with Ben had seen about the same number of awkward spots as a tutoring session. And the spaghetti had been pretty good. He washed the last bites he could manage down with some water from his thermos, feeling almost overly full. Kind of like he might want a nap.

"Box... oh." That wasn't how Ajima termed it, even in English, but he understood. Every so often she came home with a bag or two from the restaurant she worked at, called in orders that were never picked up or leftover side dishes that would spoil.

The microwave was another thing he didn't know how to use, but he had nothing against eating stuff cold. If no one stole what was in the box, that was. Leaving stuff in the common area could be hit or miss. But he didn't say that. Clement just nodded. "...Okay."

Wait. There was something else... oh. "Gamsahamnida." His lips quirked. Not a smile, but something... in the ballpark. "Thank you."

((wrap?))