Of course he was taking himself seriously. Any attempt at humor was, clearly, not ready to be aired. Not even humor at himself. He learned, even if not necessarily the right things, fast.

His eyebrow cocked up at her, then he shrugged. And opened his mouth, though he didn't lean closer. The chopsticks were weird enough, his reflexes suggested he should be able to pull away quickly if they should start poking into his throat or his nostrils.

Little did he know that the closest danger was in the meat itself.

He was too trained to take things in, including pain, to scream, or try to spit it out. Though his chewing did slow down, somewhat (it looked a little awkward to begin with), and he was swallowing heavily. His eyes teared, though he didn't let those tears fall, but that meant that he was trying to stifle sniffles a moment later.

He didn't make faces. Or complain.

But his eyes did grow even larger. Not frightened, but that was the only part of him that in any way betrayed that the hot was too much. Even his mind would have denied the 'too much' part, anyway.

"I... see," he managed to gasp, eventually.