Yet Benjiro cannot help but tumble possibilities in search of some understanding. Giving up that effort would feel like resignation.

The minute spent editing the contact is enough time for Benjiro to decimate the first slice of pizza. Picking up his tea for a drink after as his cousin draws the box over to examine the pizza, he pauses and puts both hands around the cup with a slight note of uncertainty, "Oh, uh, if that's okay? Would you rather talk first?"

The pizza itself is somewhere in the middle of the spectrum of quality. It's no cheap cardboard pizza, but it's not stone-fired either.