Chapter Text
“Let's play a game!” Hong Lu says.
Half the table grimaces. The other half groans.
“The person on your right, first impression versus now,” Hong Lu prompts. “I'll start. Gregor…”
“When I first met you, I saw a sad man beaten down by the world who was desperate to find a way to feel useful.”
“Damn, ‘Lu,” Gregor says.
“And now I see an amazingly kind man who views the pain he experienced as a dare to counteract it and push the world in the opposite direction. I'm continuously blown away by how good you are with the kids and the veterans.”
“Thanks, Hong Lu,” Gregor says awkwardly. “Tikkun Olam¹, y'know?”
“What is that?” Jia Qiu asks.
“Repairing the world. It means picking up the pieces of our shattered world and trying to leave it even just a little better than you found it. It's a core tenet of Judaism,” Gregor explains.
“I see,” Jia Qiu nods. “Thank you for sharing, I enjoy seeing different cultures’ views of hope and kindness. It is very educational.”
The rest of the table nods solemnly.
“Alright… Zigong,” Gregor begins awkwardly.
“Yes?” She replies.
“I guess when I met you, I thought you were really intimidating, arrogant, and Machiavellian.”
Zilu snorts, laughing. Zigong puts on the smile of a diplomat.
“Now I see a person who is more humble. Your deference to your ‘lord’ Jia Qiu is interesting. You still definitely aren't afraid to be calculating, but I'm seeing some of his wisdom soften you a little, which is cool to see.”
“The world is sharp,” Zigong begins. “Sometimes armor is needed. But… an excess of distance causes loss of perspective… and adding a little perspective can go a long way.”
“A perspective other than from atop your high horse,” Zilu mutters in captions.
“Zilu, I swear to fucking god-” Zigong begins, then sits down in embarrassment at the warning look on Jia Qiu's face. “We were having a moment, you insufferable woman.”
“An attempt at vulnerability…” Zilu says.
“‘Attempt,’” Zigong says, which was echoed by several others at the table.
“Should I step in or something?” Gregor asks Hong Lu.
“They're married,” Hong Lu says simply. “We’re observing them in their natural habitat. We're the outsiders. Don't use flash or they might charge.”
Gregor chuckles.
Zigong and Zilu stare each other down for an extended period of time, only disengaging as the next course is brought.
“There's no way that they aren't going to have the craziest sex tonight,” Heathcliff whispers in captions to Lei Heng, who doubles over in laughter.
“What's so funny?” Hohenheim asks.
“Nothin’,” Lei Heng answers automatically.
“So… Zigong to Jia Qiu~” Hong Lu prompts.
“Here comes the ass kissing,” Zilu mutters.
Zigong made a face and then wills herself to continue. “When I first met him, I thought ‘who the he- heck does this guy think he is?! How is he so smug and obnoxious?! And then they made me second chair for him and I was so irritated. Another arrogant man above it all.”
Zilu smiles.
“And he made the weirdest moves that made no sense to me. Motions and interrogatories that made no sense. Stipulations that seemed obnoxiously trivial… and then when we got to trial, he sprang trap after trap on them. I have never seen the light leave a man's eyes like I saw on our opposing counsel. The man's sterling record went up in flames.”
“They switched their plea to ‘guilty.’ He was good in the press releases, too. People loved him, so he became Attorney General.”
“I do not think you all know what it is like to work in our office. I can threaten people just with the idea of having him get involved. He showed up once without prior warning because he was covering for somebody and opposing counsel had to excuse themself to go cry in the bathroom.”
“Lei Heng is the only opposing counsel we've seen who took him the full trial to checkmate.”
Lei Heng nods politely.
“Wrap it up, honey,” Zilu says.
“Alright. I like him now and think highly of him. Succinct enough?” Zigong replies.
“Excellent for you,” Zilu says.
“I'm half-ready to leap across this table at you-”
Lei Heng leans over to Heathcliff and whispers a captioned “100% the nastiest. I'm talkin’ she's carvin’ her out like a turkey at Thanksgivin’.”
Heathcliff's eyes widened. He laughs slightly louder than he might have wanted.
“Care to share with the class?” Hohenheim asks.
“Uh… no. My apologies,” Heathcliff says instinctively.
“Don't apologize to him. He's not Miss Manners,” Lei Heng says.
“How kind,” Hohenheim says drily.
“He's also below your station, ‘cliff. Don't apologize to folk beneath you,” Lei Heng declares.
“I uh- I don't know if-” Heathcliff begins to stutter.
Hong Lu cuts in. “My husband is very humble. He's kind even to the little people.”
“I'm sitting right here,” Hohenheim protests.
“Judging by your Napoleonic complex-type behavior,” Faust begins. “It is likely that even though Hohenheim is considered of sufficient status and sufficient height, he may, in fact, qualify as a ‘little person’ given a potential lack of endow-”
“Enough,” Jia Qiu interjects. The table goes dead silent. “Treat all others with respect. It is basic decency.”
There is a tense silence in the air. The camera zooms in on several people at the table, repeatedly returning to Faust, who looks like she has one last jab to deliver but is trying to hold back.
“Thank you, Jia Qiu. I appreciate the hospitality,” Hohenheim says. He looks to Lei Heng and Heathcliff. “Is he ‘Miss Manners’ enough for you or are you going to go after him next?”
“It's his house, smarty pants,” Lei Heng says. He turns toward Jia Qiu, his entire face becoming softer. “Right?” He tries to subtly bat his eyelashes.
The camera zooms in on Ishmael, who is whispering captioned words to Hong Lu. “How long has it been since this dude has gotten laid, for real? It's getting insane at this point.”
“I have sharp hearing, fish girl,” Lei Heng says.
Ishmael stuns and says “oh!”
“Despite your question, I won't be answerin’ that, because such talk is crude and base,” Lei Heng says, looking at Jia Qiu out of the corner of his eye.
“I am going to derail this rapidly spiraling conversation by taking my turn in Hong Lu's game,” Jia Qiu declares. He turns to Zilu. “When I first met Zilu, I knew she was a talented investigator with an intense sense of justice. I have since learned how eager she is to learn, grow, and improve the world. I am proud to call her my close friend.”
Zigong looks stunned. Zilu is sitting still with a small smile basking in the praise.
“Thank you, master,” she says. “I am honored.”
Jia Qiu simply nods.
“Lei Heng,” Zilu begins.
“Here we go,” Heathcliff says.
Ishmael leans in, excited to see the potential disaster unfold. Everybody else is waiting expectantly with a polite distance on their faces.
“When I first heard that you were going to be opposing counsel, I was concerned. I had heard some dark rumors about you. I will not repeat them,” Zilu says.
The table is silent as they patiently wait for her to finish.
“As I got to know you more, I learned that your wins in court did not necessarily come from relying upon underhanded tactics. There is clear skill and intelligence within you. It is easy to judge based on association or based on one rare moment that you may have not even been the one to orchestrate. I reserved my judgment for after I saw you in court, reviewed your past cases, and analyzed your firm's financials.”
“You did hwhat?”
“I have determined through my analysis that you are a person of quality and I look forward to becoming friends.”
Zilu clinks her glass against Lei Heng's.
The table is stunned at the sincere kindness in her declared judgment.
“Well I'll be! Thank ya kindly, Zilu,” Lei Heng lowers his head a bit in a respectful nod. “Your approval is surprising, but welcome!”
“I would not have elected to serve as your chaperone if I had not ‘believed in you.’”
“Chaperone?” Johann quietly asks Meursault, who shrugs to indicate that he doesn't know.
¹Tikkun Olam is about making the world a better place and healing the world. In Kabbalah, it means regathering all the pieces of light scattered throughout the world after the vessels that held it broke. The idea being that, by gathering the light, they can heal the world. If that sounds familiar, it should. The wording directly parallels the premise of Lobotomy Corp, Library of Ruina, and Limbus Company.
Lei Heng's Turn
Lei Heng whistles. “Well shucks, that'll be hard to beat!” He looks at Heathcliff.
“Oh god,” Heathcliff says.
“Don't worry, flower boy, I'll be gentle~” Lei Heng teases.
“Eww. Don't be weird,” Heathcliff says, scowling.
“It seems,” Zigong cuts in. “That Heathcliff has truly become a Jia, as he has donned the same scowl as my master's. The family resemblance is uncanny.”
Jia Qiu scowls, unintentionally underscoring her point.
The table laughs.
“Uhhhh I s'pose my first impression was that you were some gold digger?”
Heathcliff exhales slowly and keeps his face neutral.
“But I did some lookin’ and I reckon it's more about yer past as a musician. More of a trophy wife than a gold-digger, although the difference between the two is often semantic in nature.”
“Gee, thanks mate.”
“Feh. I'm probably not doin’ it right. ‘It’ bein’ this game, that is. I just don't have enough experiences with ya to change my opinions from those that I preconceived via my research.”
“Then just say ‘pass,’ man,” Heathcliff sighs.
“M'bad, man,” Lei Heng tussles Heathcliff's hair, who looks like he wants to scratch him for the condescending action.
“Loverboy,” Ishmael calls. Heathcliff continues to stare forwards, trying to keep himself collected.
Ishmael whistles like she's calling a dog. “Here boy!”
Heathcliff looks at her.
“He's an asshole. Don't take it personally, just accept it and move on. Don't derail things by letting him get under your skin,” Ishmael says.
“Hey!” Lei Heng protests.
“You know exactly what you're doing,” Ishmael says. “Just cop to it. Or don't. I don't care.”
“Don't insult me, miss…” Lei Heng threatens.
“You called Heathcliff a gold digging trophy wife. I'm not the one throwing matches here.”
“Yeah but he's benea-” Lei Heng is cut off by an elbow to the ribs from Zilu.
“Don't vocalize that inside thought,” Zilu says flatly.
“The fuck did he s-” Heathcliff begins to crescendo.
The table tenses in anticipation of a fight, but things change radically when Hong Lu gives his husband a look loaded with meaning. Heathcliff visibly recalculates, calms down, pointedly ignores Lei Heng, and turns to Faust.
“First impression versus now,” Heathcliff says rigidly.
Faust looks at him owlishly.
“Hmm… I suppose that when we first met, I thought you were a condescending know-it-all with no sense of humor.”
The table is quiet. Faust's expression is completely blank as she expectantly waits for the second part.
“Now I KNOW that you're a condescending know-it-all…”
Yi Sang and Hohenheim laugh in the background.
“...but you've definitely got a sense of humor.”
Faust smiles.
“You are so fucking funny sometimes. That sharpie comment still has me on the floor.”
Ishmael cackles.
“What comment?” Meursault asks.
Faust ignores the questions and takes her own turn. “Thank you Heathcliff, that was amusing.”
Heathcliff mock salutes.
“Let me see… first impression versus now for Meursault… hmm…” Faust stalls.
Meursault looks at her expectantly.
“I am afraid that this response will not be particularly interesting, but it will be accurate,” she prefaces.
The camera zooms in on Hohenheim rolling his eyes.
“When I first met Meursault, I saw a man who was rather stiff, cold, calculating, and formulaic.”
Meursault nods.
“I understand now that he just expresses his emotions more subtly and that the rigid rules he follows are not things he expects of others.”
“It has required some time for me to adjust my expectations, but I am much happier now,” he says, his face the usual completely impassive.
Faust nods in approval. “I have learned that he is a kind man with an open heart and good morals. He is one of very few people who I would say is truly trustworthy.”
The table is politely quiet.
“Thank you for your kind words, Faust,” Meursault bows his head deferentially. “I am honored that I have made such a positive impression on you.”
“Faust only states the truth,” Faust says, a touch of pink on her cheeks.
The table is quiet for almost a full minute as they wait for Meursault.
“Is it my turn?” Meursault asks.
Ishmael sighs and places her face in one of her palms.
“Yes~” Hong Lu says brightly.
“Very well. Johann…” Meursault turns to Johann.
“Hello Meursault,” Johann replies stiffly.
“My first impression of Johann was that his appearance was disheveled and that his name tag was misspelled. His nametag only had 1 ‘N’ in ‘Johann.’”
“Oh god,” Johann buries his face in his hands.
“I have since discovered that he cares deeply for his partner and manages to offset his lack of knowledge by leveraging his love for his partner into constant hard work.”
“...thanks,” Johann says awkwardly.
Meursault nods.
“My turn?” Johann asks.
Meursault nods.
“I'm just gonna go piss,” Heathcliff says. “I don't think I'll miss much from this exchange. Loverboy thinks highly of his not-husband. Shocker.” He walks off.
“Not-husband?” Yi Sang asks.
Faust's eyes twinkle. “He means that, despite him wanting to be married and acting like he is married, Johann is not married to Hohenheim. Heathcliff likely used the term not-husband to indicate that closeness while anticipating Hohenheim's incoming correction.”
Johann sighs.
Hohenheim grits his teeth as he tries to keep his anger down.
“He is such a thoughtless asshole,” Ishmael mutters in captions.
“He's my~ thoughtless asshole,” Hong Lu says dreamily.
“You two are so sickening, I'm gonna hurl,” Ishmael says with no true venom behind the words.
Hong Lu giggles.
The scene cuts past Johann's take on Hohenheim, indicating a lack of interest from the producers or a request for privacy from the couple.