It's a very good restaurant he picked. "Now that we're here, I'm drawing a bit of a blank on shameful secrets to share."

“I’m sure all the good ones are classified. Which is a pity, I have plenty.”

The words come out his mouth before he really stops to consider them. What secrets? The only secrets he has now are, like, his nationality and real name and such, which are also classified. He smiles playfully to cover this train of thought. “But sunbae first, of course!”

"Uhhhh I don't know. I keep thinking of secrets that aren't mine to share. Let's see, I... used to wear my mum's heels and dresses as a kid? Is that a secret? It was a secret at the time but she knows now."

“That’s quite common in kids, actually,” according to the psychologist his parents had dragged him to once because, “I used to play dress up with my mother’s clothes as well.” He looks down mournfully at them empty bowl in front of him. “Oh, I really was ravenous, wasn’t I?”

"I suppose we ought to get our main courses? Know what you're ordering yet?"

"I don't actually recognize half of these dishes. The names don't really tell me much. I can just pick at random, though."

"That seems suboptimal. What do you usually tend to like?"

"Besides morkovcha? Well, I generally like pickled stuff. And I have a bit of sweet tooth, as well, though not generally with the pickling, obviously. Uh, bok choi? Boiled potatoes? Spring rolls?"