12938/Whose room is this, anyway

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Whose room is this, anyway
Date of Scene: 01 April 2021
Location: Suite A5 OPEN - The Triskelion
Synopsis: Liansong is settling in when Yaozu arrives and the two presume they are roommates, introductions are made
Cast of Characters: Yaozu Lin, Liansong "Song" Qing




Yaozu Lin has posed:
It's been a very long day. Although it's been more than a day that Yaozu has been travelling in order to arrive here. Especially with a taxi ride through New York City traffic to get from the airport to here. He hadn't slept on the plane, nor had he dared to allow himself to risk dozing off in the cab. Once he'd been brought to the location on the island as he'd requested (not directly to the SHIELD headquarters), he paid the driver and then walked the remainder of the distance.

And then he'd gone through the usual entry security, showing his ID and assorted paperwork for his transfer. He was cleared through security, got through a general meet and greet that involved giving him the keys to his room, and an agent-in-training was told to take him to his room. The agent-in-training chatted along the way but was lucky to get either a single word answer out of him or what likely seemed like a non-committal 'mm' sound. He thanked the agent-in-training once he'd been delivered to the room, then bowed, shifted the weight of his duffel bag slung over his left shoulder, and used the key to unlock the door. There's a violin case in his left hand, and he pockets the keys from his right hand in order to be able to turn the doorknob and open the door to step into the room.

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
Already within the room, a black figure. Mostly black. There are very pale feet, and flashes of equally pale arms. There are the faintest hints of pink to those arms and feet, just enough to give the idea that the figure is healthy and his skin is naturally that color. There's something not quite right about those feet. Two toes, very long toes, point backward! The rest of the foot can't really be seen, until he turns toward the sound of keys in the door. Two forward facing toes can be seen then. Long, but thick, with talons on the ends of each one. There rest of the him.. well. There's a worn out blue teeshirt that says Billabong on the front, with a faded rainbow behind it. And a pair of unadorned grey sweat pants

On the front of the face is a beak that's equally as pale as the arms and feet had been, and as the hands seem to be. Like the feet, four fingered. The beak has the same hints of pink, and very faintly, a tracery of red veins can be seen in the upper portion of it behind the designs painted there.

Two ear tufts rise from the feathery head and seem to perk toward the door. The feathers of the face fluff out as well, making him look a bit like an angry cat. "Who?" There's no sound of greeting to that question, but there is curiousity there.

Yaozu Lin has posed:
There had been no mention of a roommate. Not when the transfer had been arranged and the paperwork finalized, and not by any of those that he had spoken with up to this point. So to find someone in the room is a bit... surprisingly, at the very least. He takes half a step further into the room, so that the door can close behind him. And for the moment, he doesn't set anything down. His head tilts faintly to one side, a gesture of curiosity, and his hazel gaze passes lightly over the room's other occupant. There is a flicker of surprise that shows in his eyes, in his features -- he's been awake for a lot of hours at a stretch, and his discipline isn't perfect just now.

It is, perhaps, a measure of how long of a day he's had when he speaks. "Wo hen bàoqiàn, wo rènwéi...," Yaozu begins, the words trailing off there as his brain slowly switches gears. Carefully, he sets the violin case to the floor next to him. Then he places his left hand with the palm against the back of his right hand, tips of his thumbs touching, and with his elbows slightly bent and arms extended, he bows. The movement causes his long braid to snake forward over one of his shoulders, dangling. "My apologies, sir. Lin Yaozu," he says. He straightens, and his hands lower in front of himself. And he doesn't move further into the room than what he is.

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
Song had also not heard any mention of a roommate. Nor had there been any mention of such in the paperwork. The words in Mandarin get an owl grin, beak half gaped open. "Nothin' doin', mate," he says. "No apology necessary. Probably just an oversite. You were assigned this suite too? Nears as I can tell, there's two rooms. I haven't even moved my stuff into one of 'em yet. There's luggage to be seen, set near the couch in the livingroom. Clearly, the tall owl-man hadn't gotten quite that far yet.

It is worth noting, however, that the heaters seem to be blowing decently warm air into the room. And Song's feathers remain puffed out.

The semi-formal bow brings a blink from those large, rounded eyes. He definitely has the looks of an owl. But what owl ever came in pitch black? Song dips his head into a nod, not nearly so formal as the other. "You're fine... Yaozu, did you say? Yowsa! I like your name, mate!" Song bounces on his feet, bobbing up and down a bit with it. It seems, Song is a hyper one.

"Qing Liansong. You can call me Song. Or Doc Song, if ya wanna be more formal. Doc Hoot's my twitter handle."

Yaozu Lin has posed:
There's a slow sort of blink from Yaozu as his brain plays a little bit of catch-up. It was so much ingrained habit, for him, to speak in Mandarin, that it had come out before he'd realized it. And... the owl had grinned at him. He hadn't imagined that, had he? He was pretty sure it had really happened! Some of the tension that had come to him upon finding the room already occupied bleeds away with the avian's words. "You speak Mandarin?" he asks, curiosity flickering in the words. He reaches down to pick up the violin case, and then he quietly steps further into the room.

"It probably was. An oversight, that is," Yaozu agrees, giving a single nod before settling the violin case down to the floor, near to the wall of the living room. Then he eases the duffel from over his shoulder, placing it on the floor next to the violin. "Yes," he affirms, giving a small nod to being assigned here. Yaozu could do to use more words sometimes.

There's a brief glance given towards the heaters, the source of the warm air spilling into the room, and he tilts his head faintly to one side as his hazel gaze turns to Song. "Cold?" he asks.

"Thank you, Song," he says, inclining his head towards the avian, his gaze slightly downcast out of respect. A looser formality is challenging, given where he was raised, but... Song had indicated a preference, and so he's trying. "I like your name, as well," he adds. His right hand slips to the small of his back, resting there, and he tilts his head a touch to one side. "Twitter?"

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
Song had definitely grinned. It was not imagination. The head bobs in another of those lazy nods. "Yup. My father's from China." It seems not to bother Liansong, that the other doesn't talk too much. There's nothing wrong with that. Just means Song gets to talk more! "We should probably let someone know. I'm in the science labs. You?" He watches the man walk closer. Curiously, his head turns, not his eyes. He points one taloned finger toward the violin case. "You play? Maybe I'll screech along with ya, sometime." That ... sounds kind of ominous!

The question of being cold? He nods. "It's middle of summer, back home. And it doesn't get this cold even in the middle of winter often, there. Yeah. I'm cold." He tilts his head a little bit, studying Yaozu with his head sideways. What gave me away?" He sounds truly curious, though there might be just a hint of habitual sarcasm to the question. Like... was it the accent? The fluffed out feathers? Or the heater running practically full blast?

"You're welcome! And thank you too." He blinks, owlishly! "Twitter. Ya know. Social media? Little bird? It's blue? Kinda like facebook?"

Yaozu Lin has posed:
"Makes sense," Yaozu says, giving a single nod at the information. He doesn't seem to mind that the other seems to like talking. Or at least, it doesn't seem to disturb him. Yet. His right hand remains at the small of his back, and the position is one that seems quite familiar to him. He blinks and tilts his head faintly to one side, looking to Song. "Let someone know...?" Yaozu asks. It's already known that they're both here, and that they were both assigned to the same room doesn't bother him even though he hadn't been expecting it.

"I am a field agent," Yaozu says, inclining his head towards Song. Then he glances towards the violin case when it's asked after, and he turns his gaze back to Song as he gives a nod. "Yes," he answers. Then there's a flicker of amusement that rises to his hazel eyes, as well as his tone as he adds, "If you can screech in tune, or mostly so, then I will not mind." And there's a slight quirk at the corners of his lips. Has Song earned a smile? It is, at least, a hint of one.

One of his eyebrows nudges up, slightly, as Song affirms that he is cold. "I will adjust," he says softly, bowing slightly. "There is snow, in winter, here," he offers, studying Song. He's quiet a moment, considering the question, and then he lifts his left hand to gesture slightly towards Song himself. "Your feathers were fluffed out. It reminded me of the birds at home. In winter. And the heater," he admits. He's placed the accent, though he doesn't know a lot about Australia or New Zealand.

There's a slight bow offered at the thanks, as well. "Twitter is blocked, in China," Yaozu says, pausing briefly before adding, "And Facebook is banned. I have never used either."

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
Song nods. "Mmhmm. Let someone know. They didn't tell me about a roomie, so I'm assuming it was an oversight on someone's part. Or.. well. Y'know. It coulda been deliberate, I suppose. Usually, they let us know when that's gonna happen, though." Usually. Doesn't mean always!

'Yet' is the opperative term. Liansong may well have only just gotten started on how much he can talk! Birds tend to vocalize quite a bit. Owls aren't an exception to that rule. "D'you cook? I only cook a little. I was about to order take out. You wanna order takeout? You hungry? What would you like?" The questions come in a rapidfire hurry, they do.

Only then does Liansong take a deeeeep breath. And there's silence for a moment. He owl-grins again. "Yup. I can screech in tune. I can screech outta tune too. Depends on the situation. Though..." He pauses and considers. "Only if you can play in tune. Those are horrible when not well played. And my hearing is very sensative."

The hint of a smile doesn't seem to change the owl-man's demeanor at all. But the concession to the heat? Oh yes. That gets another owl-grin. "Awesome, mate. Awesome. I like it warm. I will probably get used to the cold... eventually." He looks down at his feet and wriggles his toes. "Hm. Snow. There is no snow in Sydney. At least, not unless it's a really odd year. I'm going to have to have something made, or bought, for winter if I'm still here."

The confession about Twitter and Facebook being blocked in China seems to bring the owl to a hault. "B.. bl... blocked??" he finally stutters out. "How could it be blocked? That's so not cool. So not cool. But don't worry. I'll introduce ya!"

Yaozu Lin has posed:
There's a faint tilt of his head, his hazel gaze lingering on Song. "I...would expect it is known. Yes? The room fits two people. Two rooms. Someone knew. We simply did not," Yaozu says, and then he gives a single nod. He accepts the situation, accepts having a roommate. "We know now," he adds, and there's a flicker of a smile that finds the corners of his lips.

"I can. Cook. Some things," Yaozu says, giving a single nod. Mostly things that aren't too complicated in nature to make. "I would not say no to take-out. It has been a long day, and plane snacks are not very filling or nutritious," he says. One of his eyebrows slightly quirks up, no doubt from the rapid nature of the questions, his travel weary brain taking a moment to sift through them. "Whatever you wish to order, it will be fine," he says, bowing slightly to Song.

"In tune is better than out of tune. It will need to be tuned before I play it again," Yaozu says, tilting his head faintly to one side. There's a slight tug at the corners of his lips, and a touch of amusement that comes to his hazel eyes as he gives a small nod. "I can play in tune. A poor player makes it sound like a cat being murdered. I will bear that in mind, about your hearing," he says, taking amoment to lift his gaze to the ear tufts before his gaze returns to Song's features.

"It is nature. We adjust. It will take time," he says. And he takes a quiet and slightly longer moment to look over his roommate before he gives a single nod. "Yes. You will want warm clothes, in winter. I would hope you will still be here, then," he adds. He's quiet a moment at the surprise his roommate has about Twitter and Facebook, and then he bows towards him. "Xièxiè ni," Yaozu says, his gaze respectfully lowered once again. "Blocked. Yes. Many Social Media platforms are blocked in China. Censorship," he says, explaining at least to that point.

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
"Yeah. You might be right. But why wouldn't they tell us? That, to me, seems.. odd. A bit." Liansong's black wings move, still folded, but now each moves toward the other. A moment later, the owl-man stretches the rest of his body, then relaxes. "Man. That jet lag from Oz is killer. Twenty hour flight, mate." The mutant's mind seems to jump all over the place. "Yup. We know now. I don't mind. Having a room mate can be fun." Or it can be a pain in the backside, depending on if they're hyper active like Liansong appears to be.

"Hmm. I think pizza. Barbeque pizza." He looks happy at that. And as the suite starts to warm up, his feathers stop fluffing quite so much as he gets warmer too. He moves over to where his phone sits on a side table and picks it up. A website is pulled up. Pizza is ordered. "Anything you don't like on your pizza?"

Liansong nods agreement. "In tune much better." He shudders at the mention of cats being murdered. Given he's an owl, there might be more to that than simply the sound of a poorly played violin!

There is another nod from the owl-man. "Yup. Warm clothes. I either will be here, or I will be elsewhere. Where we go tends to be up to Shield, afterall." He owl-grins. When he does that, his tongue is briefly visible. Pale pink in the middle, slightly darker pink at the tip and at the throat, and round rather than oval shaped like a purely human's tongue would be.

At the repeated bow, Song steps over to Yaozu and places his hands under the man's elbows. Ever so gently, he lifts Yaozu out of the bow. Or, well, attempts to do so. Is talons very carefully do not so much as touch fabric or skin. "You are very welcome. Censorship sucks. I'll help you. No worries, mate."

Yaozu Lin has posed:
"Perhaps," Yaozu says, his brow furrowing for a brief moment before the expression clears away. "That part could be oversight. Perhaps one was meant to tell us and did not," he suggests. His attention is caught by the shifting of the wings, watching the movement of them. He inclines his head towards Song at mention of the jet lag. "Mm. It was slightly more, from Beijing," he says softly, a note of understanding to his voice. There hadn't been a direct flight available, and so he'd had to take one with a stop midway. Though since he was continuing on, he'd had to stay on the plane during the stop.

"I also do not mind, having a roommate," Yaozu says. He faintly tilts his head to one side, his brow furrowing a smidge when barbeque pizza is mentioned. "Barbeque pizza?" he asks. He's had pizza before, but never barbeque pizza, and so he's curious. His right hand moves softly away from the small of his back, and he crouches down in order to untie his boots before removing them and setting them aside, next to his duffel bag. Then he smoothly rises to his feet once more. "I eat many things, and am willing to try new things at least once," Yaozu says, a touch of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"This is largely true. If I am here come winter, then my warm clothes will be sent from home. Shield has much say in where we go. I am here because I requested a transfer," he offers, sharing that much. And perhaps wondering why he did so afterwards, as he's generally not prone to speaking much about himself. When Song reaches out to him, to actually lay hands on him, he is even more still than what he had already been, if that can be believed. There is a faint show of surprise to him, evidenced by a very slight widening of his eyes. Being touched is a thing that he's generally not used to except for under certain circumstances -- sparring and the like, other things where it's -expected-. He does nothing to stop the touch, and he hadn't been expecting it to start with in order to avoid it. Then his gaze lowers, and he gives a small nod. "Thank you, Song. I appreciate your kindness, your help," he says softly, his tone sincere.

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
Liansong seems to think about then, then nods once, decisively. "You are probably right. In that case, we should assume the people doing the assignments know what they're doing and leave it alone." The wings shift forward and half wrap around him at this point. Yup. Probably still a bit cold. It's starting to get warmer in here, but the heat has probably only been turned up for a short time. Perhaps Liansong had only arrived a short time before Yaozu had.

Liansong tilts his head, owl-like. "Did you have bad layovers, mate? Your flight should have been shorter'n mine. Unless you had weird stops. I only had one, in Dallas, Texas." He shakes his head, puffing his feathers out again. "Sometimes, airlines have real odd routes. They like ta pretend they're a 'roo, hoppin' back and forth all zigzaggy."

He owl-grins again. "Yup. Barbeque pizza. How we do it in Oz. Barbeque sauce insteada tomato paste. The tomato is available, but it doesn't taste very good." In point of fact, it tastes rather like plain tomato sauce without even the benefit of the zest that ketchsup. has. "Goodonya, mate," he says. And that word? It really sounds squashed together like that instead of the three words it should be! Liansong turns back to his phone and finishes putting in the order. "There. All ordered. Should be about half an hour to fourty-five minutes before arrival. We'll have to pick it up at the front desk."

The de-shoeing is watched with evident curiousity in those big, round eyes. Because of the shape of those eyes, he always has an air of innocence and curiousity about him. Maybe even surprise. "Right. I was just transferred. Maybe they need a scientist. Dunno what I'll be working on yet. Transfer papers said a year, minimum. We'll see." He turns his head until he's looking at the man, upside down. Why'd ya request a transfer?"

Liansong straightens up out of his attempt, and apparent success, of lifting Yaozu out of his bow, and retracts his hands. His feathery wings are still extended forward a bit and wrapped about him. "You're welcome, mate. Anything I can do ta help, I will. Ya just say the word and I'm there."

Yaozu Lin has posed:
"It seems the safe assumption to make. If such a thing is safe. Until or unless a third person shows up to claim a room," Yaozu says, the corners of his lips barely tugging up. He doesn't seem to mind that the room is getting warmer. He'd said that he would adjust, and so he shall. He takes a moment to consider the heater, the room, and his roommate, and then he tilts his head faintly to one side. "When did you arrive?" Yaozu asks, a flicker of curiosity touching his voice.

One of his eyebrows faintly quirks up at the question, and he inclines his head towards Song. "There were two stops made, by the flight I was on. Amsterdam and London. I would not call either of them bad," Yaozu says, reflecting on them for a moment. "Nearly twenty-three hours, from getting on the plane at one side to getting off at the other," he says, a faint smile touching his lips. "The stops were not long enough to get off or see anything," he adds, lifting one of his shoulders in the faintest of shrugs.

"It sounds interesting," Yaozu says, a thoughtful note to his voice. "I have never thought of barbeque sauce on pizza. Are there any things that you do not like to eat? Or that you are allergic to, in the way of food?" he asks. If he's going to cook for them, then the information would be useful. "I was always told that if I did not at least try something then I could not say if I liked it or not, with honesty." He glances briefly towards the phone that Song finishes the order up with, then lifts one of his hands to flick his braid over his shoulder to his back. This has the appearance of being a familiar thing, a thing he has done many times.

"I would expect there is need for a scientist. There always is. I expect you will find out what you will be working on, soon," he says, inclining his head slightly towards his roommate. Then his gaze turns towards the window, looking out it and considering the question that was asked of him. "It was a suggestion. My parents. The suggested that I was young and should take the opportunity to see parts of the world," he says, his brow furrowing slightly, briefly, before his expression clears.

Then his gaze turns back to Song, and he faintly tilts his head to one side. "Thank you, Song," he says softly, sincerely, inclining his head towards the avian, his gaze lowering out of respect. "You will have my help, as well," he adds, a smile touching his lips. Honour dictates it.

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
Liansong laughs at that. "Until or unless," he agrees. "That being the case, they'll be out of luck. Only two bedrooms in here." Liansong turns to set the phone down again. Then he moves toward the suitcases he'd sat next to the couch, and picks two up to carry to the bedroom on the left. "Oh, just about half an hour ago." They likely would have arrived at the same time, if Yaozu had taxied all the way instead of walking part of it. Song had taxied all the way.

"Well. Plane touched down like.. two hours ago now. But then had to get through checking out, picking up luggage, and customs. And then the traffic. And I thought Sydney was bad. At least people there don't try to run you over rather than look at'cha." He nods about the stopovers. "My stop was only about an hour. All in all, I think about twenty-one or twenty-two hours from boarding to landing. I changed flights in Texas, from Quantas to Delta." His feathers puff out again, then relax a bit. "Quantas had much better service. The snacks were better too."

The question is considered, and then met with a shrug. "Not so keen on chocolate. No allergies, though. And I'll try anything at least once. Though, I prefer spicier foods, or foods with a strong taste. Things with mild tastes tend to all blend together. What about you? Allergies or anything?" Yes, such information is generally useful.

"Well, to be honest, that's the truth. If you don't try it, how can you know whether or not you like it?" Liansong starts toward the bedroom and then inside, the door having already been open. As he goes, the fact that he also has a tail becomes obvious. Right now, ti's at rest and relaxed, so hangs down almost to the ground in a long, narrow 'v' shape.

"I suspect you're right," replies Liansong, having had no problem hearing the man. He steps back out, and is oddly graceful on his feet, despite having forward and backward facing toes. The talons click softly on the floor whenever there's no carpeting. He comes out again just in time to see Yaozu looking toward the window. "Nothing at all wrong with leaving the next and stretching your wings, mate." Only a bird would think of something like that to say! It's totally cliche. He bobs a nod at the return thanks and having help bits. "Good good. What is it you think you'll do here?"

Yaozu Lin has posed:
There is the slightest spark of amusement that rises into Yaozu's hazel eyes, and he gives a nod to Song. "They will be. And those rooms are each spoken for," he agrees easily, giving a small nod. His duffel is relatively near the bedroom on the right, so he doesn't bother moving it as of yet. He'll take it into the room later, no doubt after food has been had. He tilts his head a touch to one side, and then he gives a nod. "We would have arrived at the same time, if I had the taxi bring me all the way here. I walked part of the way," he says, a thoughtful note to his voice.

"Mm," he affirms, giving a slight nod. "It was similar for me, with all of the airport things to deal with," he comments, ever so slightly wrinkling his nose. He's not a fan of going through security or customs or any of the rest of it. He's quiet for a moment then, considering, and then he gives a small nod. "The snacks were... insufficient," he says in a quieter tone after a moment. He has a healthy appetite and he's not had a proper meal in the past day.

One of his eyebrows quirks faintly at the mention of chocolate, and then he gives a nod. "Mm," he offers, the sound an acknowledgement of the words. "I will do my best to remember that. No, I have no allergies. That I know of," he says, giving a small nod to Song. "Spicy food is good," he agrees, a smile tugging his lips a bit. He tilts his head faintly to one side, and then he gives a small nod. "It is true, yes. I had little arguement to offer when the words were spoken to me, as a child," Yaozu says, a flicker of amusement to his voice. There was a time when he tried to be a fussy child.

His gaze shifts back to the window, which isn't real but which is still very pretty all the same. And he studies the display of the screen for a long moment before his gaze turns back to Song, watching the avian and admiring the man's grace. "Leaving the nest. I suppose it is, in a way. It is the furthest that I have moved from home before," he says. Then he falls quiet a moment, considering another of the questions that had been asked. "I would expect that my work will be similar here to what it was in Beijing. Field missions. And in between, training. Or practice," he adds.

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
"Well. Yeah. But who knows whos been assigned to them, yeah? Spoke for, maybe. But may be bedrooms available." Liansong can't help an owl-grin with that comment. He walks on across the floor and goes for the last two bags, each are good sized soft sided duffel type suitcases. The previous two had been as well. Traditional suitcases are such a thing of the past. Each is black and accented in a different color. The two he'd carried in were dark blue, and red, respectively. The two yet to be carried into the chosen bedroom are aqua, and purple. What could he possibly need four big duffels for? One of them seems to be kind of more square than the others, as though it has hard, straight objects, like plastic boxes, within.

"Ah. That explains it," replies Liansong. "I am going to go flying later, after dark. I stretched my legs a bit on the walk up here." Then again, he doesn't seem to be as physically inclined as his new roommate. The mention of airport things has Liansong's feathers all slicking down tightly. It makes him look a lot smaller than he had before! Not as fat and fluffy. "They are a pain. This wasn't my first time. It was my first time to New York City, though." He doesn't seem a fan of airport security or customs either. He turns with the other two bags and carries them to the room.

That leaves only his phone a smaller bag like for a laptop, and his carryon bag, which seems to be a small backpack. He drops them off and returns not long after. A few minutes, maybe. He carries with him a bag of some sort of candy or snack. The bag is red on the back, and red bordering gold on the front. It says 'Kookaburra Liquorice' on the front and has an image of liquorice pieces. Red liquorice pieces.

Without any sort of warning, Liansong lobs the thing in an underhanded toss, like with a softball pitch, at Yaozu with no warning at all. "Here. Try these. Straight from home." The bag, once caught, will prove to be slightly squishy with a rich fragrance of berries. Maybe he has a sixth sense. Or maybe he can hear the gurgling of the man's poor empty stomach. Or maybe he just suspects that there hadn't been much food.

"Anything you just can't stand, foodwise?" He nods about moving away from home. Though the eyes are not human in the slightest, the way the feathers slick back and the look in his eyes convey a bit of sadness. "Yeah. Me too. I've been away from home before, but never this far or for this long. It's gonna be interesting." He tilts his head sideways to look at the man side-long. "Ah. Perhaps you could help me with training. Not a lot of people are comfortable sparring with me. I'm not all that greeeaat, but I have had field training. Some. Enough to be proficient."

Yaozu Lin has posed:
There's a quirk at the corners of his lips at that comment about the bedrooms, and he tilts his head faintly to one side. "I will grant that point," Yaozu says, his hazel eyes showing a flicker of amusement to them. Stepping back from the 'window', he approaches his duffel and violin, picking up both of them before carrying them into his room to set them on the floor at the foot of his bed. "What sort of scientist is it that you are?" he asks, curious. He returns to the main room to pick up his boots and tuck them just inside his room as well. That done, he returns to the main room. He doesn't ask about Song's luggage or what might be within it, but it's possible there's curiosity there about it all the same. Although one could just as easily be curious as to how all of his belongings are in just one duffel.

"I hope it will be good weather for your flight. The forecast I heard mentioned rain overnight," Yaozu says, a thoughtful note to his voice. One of his eyebrows quirks up a touch when Song feathers slick down. "They are a pain. This was my first time. Beijing, here," he adds. Shield provided transportation doesn't have the same restrictions as what public travel does. "I understand the necessity of them, but... it seems to me that there would be more efficient ways of handling such things," he comments.

For a moment, he watches Song carry the smaller bag and his carry-on bag to his room, and his gaze turns to the screen at the window. And even though he's not looking towards Song when the bag of licorice is thrown, his right hand easily slips from his back in order to catch the bag, the movement swift and smooth. His gaze falls to the bag for a moment, and then he looks over to Song, a flicker of curiosity to his eyes. "Xièxiè ni, Song," he says softly, shifting his position and half bowing. That habit will take time. He opens the package before retrieving a piece of it and biting half of it to chew on it. There's a flicker of surprise that shows in his eyes, and what just might be a spark of delight at the flavour of it before he closes his eyes. Savouring it. "Caoméi," he says quietly, near a whisper in volume, after swallowing that first bite and before popping the rest of the piece into his mouth. Perhaps it reminds him of something. It seems like the flavour does. He takes out a second piece before sealing the bag and setting it on the end table near to the couch.

The question is weighed. "Escargot. Uni. Avocado," he answers, after a considerable moment of thought. He doesn't really seem to have a long list of dislikes, or maybe there are a number of foods he hasn't tried yet. He tilts his head a touch to one side, his gaze holding steadfast upon Song, taking in the slicked feathers once again. "We are both far from our homes. We can help each other adjust and get through the moments where it is missed," he says in a gentle tone, a smile touching at the corners of his lips. "Yes, it will be interesting. And I will spar with you. You may be better than you believe yourself to be," he adds, inclining his head towards Song.