The utensils split in a way that leaves no doubt about her capability- like the quick snap of a wrist bone or a few fingers. Flexing his own, Neji pries his chopsticks apart with a quieter pressure, and briefly wonders about the forces at play here.

But he pushes the weird territory those thoughts stray into aside in favor of inhaling the scent of his favorite dish.

"Itadakimasu," he returns, and savors the first touch of flavor on his tongue with a hum. Perfection. The only thing that would make it better is- ah yes, their tea. Not the best, but passable, and he turns a grateful nod to their server.