[Sanji's answer is... silence, mostly, the man standing stiff and abruptly quiet, one hand frozen on the top of the bento. The pause stretches into awkward territory before:]

I was in the shitty area, alright?

[Mmmmmmmmmmmmhm. That sure is the truth. He shrugs, ducks his head by an inch, returns to his fussing over the bento sections]

Got it from nearby café, newly opened... and you're Japanese, right? Thought maybe you'd know how it's supposed to taste.

[Because there sure weren't any other Japanese men who know swordsmanship that Sanji could've asked for help. Regardless, by the time he's finished setting the individual sections out in front of Yusuke, a warm scent is slowly encasing the kitchen. Everything is obviously freshly made, from the salmon that's been baked with a layer of miso mayo, the pumpkin slices marinated in a spicy honey sauce, the mustard soy sauce-flavored pork paired with scrambled egg, and finally a more traditional helping of tamagoyaki wrapped with spinach, furikake-flavored rice, and chicken bites that had been fried in ginger oil.

...]

Café made a lot, they gave me extra.

[INDEED]