Ico already knew what he wanted and he ordered a pizza. At least it had fish on it, which he was familiar with. Before he exchanged money, he looked back. His horns exaggerated his movements when he tilted his head. Although he was careful about where he pointed it, the vendor stepped back.

“Martin,” Ico called lightly for his attention. “Choose what you want to eat.”

It would be easier, Ico thought, to choose for him. However, he did not want to give him something he disliked. He watched Martin but it was difficult to determine what was wrong when it seemed like everything troubled him.