Zaofan's eyebrow rose in earnest, that this blunt and standoffish fellow would ask a genuine question. Perhaps first impressions can be wrong after all?
"In a way, yes. And it was all entirely an accident of training."
Zaofan opened his hand to motion that they should walk and talk. "You see, I knew your fighting style because I, too, am -- or rather, was -- a student of the Crane School; well, one of them, anyway. But I can't say I was a good student. Judging from your stance and your use of the Dodonpa, I'd have to say... you appear to be more than proficient in the Crane School, yes?"
The vagabond placed his arms behind his back while in contemplation. "Unlike me. I jumped the gun, tried to advance my training prematurely by studying one of the forbidden techniques and combining it with the Tenryū Kokyū Hō to reinforce my body to handle the forbidden technique. Alas, instead of fortifying myself to master the kikoho, I nearly destroyed my mind, body, and spirit. Only by channeling my energy through my eyes was I able to save myself; but it also had the unforeseen consequence of granting me my optic blast ability."
"The audacity of youth! To think that I could combine two ends of two disciplines together!"
"And yourself! What has your experience with the Crane School been? Surely yours is different than mine, with yourself being so knowledgeable in the art."
"Excuse me," Zaofan said to the group as he heard Mr. Pantaloon's offer. In a split second, the vagabond thief all but vanished from the group, bypassing the already-prepared buffet, running through the double doors, stopping in the middle of the cafeteria's massive kitchen.
He couldn't believe his eyes. So many clean surfaces. So many hanging utensils. So many pots and pans. Tools and devices he'd never seen before. Cavernous ovens and refrigerators. Multiple sinks. A giant stove that lined the entire long wall. Bread makers, wooden spoons, tall spice racks, and the like. He never stayed in one place for long, but he could definitely stay here for a week and then some.
Zaofan quickly donned the nearest apron. He took two dish rags and whipped them around his forearms. He quickly tied a doo rag around his forehead. Sure, he could eat whatever he wanted out in the cafeteria, but twice now he's had what Mr. Pantaloon could offer. Zao was more than interested to see what he could do instead with Mr. Pantaloon's stocks and resources.
He opened up the walk-in refrigerator. BEHOLD! Meats of all sizes! Gelatinous mixtures for soup! Crates and crates of eggs and dairy!
Using his considerable strength and balance, Zaofan carefully walked out of fridge with a giant slab of dinosaur tail (bone-in), about three dozen eggs, and three bricks of soup mixture (marrow and blood). He laid them on one of the kitchen islands. Then, he went to the starches and found dough. Sure, there was a cabinet full of various ramen noodles, but Zaofan couldn't wait to play, to create his own noodles.
And finally, yet tastefully, Zaofan went to the liquor cabinet for the bartender. He carefully chose a white wine vintage from Mount Kiwi, dated 10 years ago. Surely Mr. Pantaloon wouldn't mind. Zaofan poured himself a glass, to make the culinary experience even more relaxing.
Putting the dough to wood, Zaofan started pounding. Lightly because of the energy spent fighting, and also not to ruin his host's kitchen, but still concentrated nonetheless. "AHHHH"-- Zaofan looked around, then in a lower and more calm tone... "at-atatatatatatatata" as he kneaded and kneaded, to soften up before he could pull and string the dough.