An Zhe quickly slinked after her, hand falling just short of latching on to the hem of her jacket when he thought better of the action. Following her also quickly became following his nose as all those warm, salty savory scents wafted towards them to beckon them to the stool. An Zhe's eyes were going as round as the sizes of the bowls as he peeked around her, curiosity written all over his face.

Soup? He loved soup. (Never mind that soup was one of the only dishes he was truly familiar with.)

"What kind is this?" He asked, waiting for her to take that lone seat since. Well. There was only one. It made sense to him that she should sit first.