#satansired

@satansired

As a rule, Ben didn’t go to dinner at his coworkers’ houses. He wasn’t as strict with kashrut as many other observant Jews— it was nearly impossible to be, living in Japan —but even with his admittedly relaxed requirements, the chance of eating something he shouldn’t was simply too high. The only exceptions were people he knew particularly well and trusted to understand his dietary limitations.

He never would have imagined he’d break his self-imposed rule for the son of Satan, and yet here he was, standing on the Okumuras’ doorstep with a bottle of wine he wasn’t permitted to drink. Wine was a good dinner gift, right? 

Ben hadn’t been able to bring himself to decline. The kid had been so enthusiastic about inviting him over, and so willing to accommodate him... and Benjamin had a hunch that aside from Okumura’s brother and former classmates, their coworkers didn’t try to interact with the Knight outside of work. Accepting an olive branch was more important than being particularly strict with rules— at least to him. Ben’s rabbi probably wouldn’t agree, but that was why he didn’t ask him for advice on this. Or tell him he was going. No use in giving the old rebbe an aneurysm.