[ Jeremiah never breaks of those denominations, though he's free to address as he will, as always. As ever. Lelouch nearly tacks Orange onto his words, like lavishing his terrible humor onto him, only to restrain himself. ]

I've certainly worked up an appetite. Perhaps you share that sentiment. [ He observes him from beneath his lashes, head tilted up just so, as if he's tipped his favor. Eyes dark despite the brightness of the day, the shadows that come with evening yet to properly coalesce. ] We may as well be insatiable.

[ When in Rome, do as the Romans do. Though Jeremiah doesn't make for half the monster Lelouch is, having carried out his revenge and living on regardless, like a creature of spite and animosity in the world he loves; the world Nunnally loves, as well.

Lelouch leads the way ahead, venturing into the city. The weather's balmier in the main plaza, where people crisscross the market currently in full swing. A line of restaurants on either side of the streets, and the bustle of people of all types, tourists and those who make their livelihood. Weaving in and out, he guides them through, purchases a small tray of pelmeni, fried omul, two types of blini, shawarma for Jeremiah— and for himself, one sweet pirozhki. Being a bit of a charlatan himself, he carefully avoiding any incoming collision with pickpockets, walking the street-way. ]

Need to parch your thirst?

[ Since he drank all the water a couple hours back like the voracious gremlin he is, it's only fair to offer. ]