It was Naz’s turn to prepare supper. Since her Khinkali did not come frozen, obviously Naz had to use up some right away. So she used the steamers to prepare Khinkali. Naz served the food first, then went to put things away in the kitchen.
“Wait, you’re using my chopsticks?” Naz asked Stacy when she came back.
“What? Your chopsticks?” Angel looked up before Stacy could say anything.
“Sorry, I mean, I thought they were for me,” Stacy felt embarrassed that she would even make such an assumption. This was not the Anime convention she had been on the way to attending when her life was irrevocably changed by the assassination attempt and her teammates’ rescue.
“Never mind, I can get myself another pair,” Naz said and quickly took another pair from inside.
Now it was Riley’s turn to be amazed. Her gray eyes opened very wide. “Naz, am I seeing you right?”
“Of course.”
“Isn’t,” Riley pointed at Angel and Marilyn, “isn’t khinkali meant to be eaten like that?”
Marilyn looked up, “yeah, with hands to prevent the sauces from spilling out. I’m pretty sure I am doing this right and you aren’t eating khinkali like a Sakartvelian!”
“Wow, even you know this!” Naz said genially.
“Hey, I may be from the Baltics, but I’m not stuck looking only Westwards you know!” Riley protested, assuming that Naz was addressing her. But now everyone was looking at Naz and completely puzzled at this seeming eccentricity. After all, Stacy was a known anime fan and doubtless had exposure to sashimi and East Asian foods, so she might be fine with chopsticks. But why would Naz eat her native food like that?
Figuring that the others were mystified, Naz sighed and stretched out her hands.
“What do you see?”
“Um, I don’t know…”
“Oh, I see dirty fingernails!” Angel said with characteristic candor.
“Um, I won’t put it that way,” Riley mumbled. “I would just say Naz has a mechanic’s hands.”
“No need for that pussyfooting around with me,” Naz half sighed. “Riley, you claim to be an engineer too.”
“Electrical engineers won’t have hands that look like mechanical engineers’ hands,” Riley testily replied.
“Yeah, did you expect to see Riley’s hands covered with solder and bits of melted wires?” Marilyn put on a big mischievous grin.
Riley ignored Marilyn. “My office is a partially clean room, remember?”
“I’m with Naz,” Angel said with a thumb’s up. “Chemical engineers are also expected to deal with stinky, dirty, yucky stuff too!”
“Yes, because of the work I do, I don’t always manage to get my hands as clean as I’d like to,” Naz said.
To the rest, Naz explained: “I’m being entirely, authentically practical here, all right? This is Ukrainian down to earth thinking!”
“Tool usage,” Marilyn commented as she went to the kitchen and took out a third pair of chopsticks.
“I’m a mechanical engineer. I’m always good with using whatever tools that are useful enough to achieve my goals,” Naz said. “Forks will puncture the khinkali but not chopsticks, so chopsticks are the best tool to use for eating khinkali when you have unsatisfactory hands…”
Everyone turned to see Marilyn holding chopsticks. Angel had a “you’re kidding me expression” on her face.
“I’m a biologist. Humans are defined by tool usage, invention, mimicry. So I can also use this!” Marilyn announced.
And with that, Marilyn used her chopsticks and picked up a khinkali, bringing it across the table to herself.
The khinkali was wobbling as Marilyn struggled to control the chopsticks…
Stacy could see the chopsticks trembling and shaking, because Marilyn was Uzbek, not Uighur. She was not accustomed to holding tools in this manner.
PLOP! Marilyn dropped the khinkali into her soup. Soup splattered her face immediately.
Stacy tried to keep herself from laughing as Marilyn put on an idiotic, soup-covered grin for everyone.
“… failure and needing practice to build muscle memory for tool usage is also normal,” Marilyn intoned seriously.