[ Opposite of his companion, Kurapika doesn't look at home here in this lavish parlor - he keeps his posture rigid, even while sitting in such a plush and delicate chair. One could say it's close to business like, as if he were coming here to speak to the Mayor only about Important Political Matters™, not enjoy free snacks and drinks at all.

Odd as he does find this display of wealth, he also knows that at functions like this, you stick out like a sore thumb if you refuse to partake in what you're offered. So, begrudgingly, he obliges, taking his own hors d'oeuvre and biting through it plainly. ]

It tastes... [ He pauses to swallow. ] How you would expect. Like it was made for and by the wealthy.

[ Fancy food has delicate flavors - it isn't filling, and it isn't satisfying, either. It often has a strange, experimental texture that most common people would find off putting. He eyes the person before him closely, the intricate clothing, the confidence exuding from him while in this situation, and thinks to himself privately that they're both familiar with this kind of "welcome" into an estate, but for different reasons. Leaning over, he puts the scraps of what he's just taken a bite out of back onto some random small plate the servants had left them, clearly not intending to finish it. ]

I don't have the palate to say anything further. Though I'm almost certain that you do.