We are packing to go up to Seoul for Christmas.

My bag is jam packed full of the work I will take up, but not get around to doing when I am there.  Eunjoo is busy packing things for Lucy that Lucy will never use: a bib, high-heel shoes, a fogger. She asks me to get something ready to eat on the train.

That I can do.  Mandarin oranges and kim-bap are the go-to, but there is no room for them in my bag. No problem. There is a trick I picked up in the army. I open a block of spam and slice it into thin layers which I then press to my skin- mostly on the hairless undersides of my arms and around my lower back and sides. It is less noticeable here, and easily accessed. It sticks well, and will fasten better as it dries. Instant snacks that take up no baggage space. What's more, if you lose your luggage, you still got your snacks.

On the train, Lucy sits next to Eunjoo, and I sit next to an older woman. Not one I brought with me, mind you, the train provided her.

"Hello," I say, as I sit down. "I'm Mark, I'll be on your left for the duration of your trip. Feel free to ask me questions, but don't expect me to ask any of you in return. Train conversations are difficult for me.

"She smiles, and then looks towards the window.

I reach an arm across the aisle to Lucy and offer her some spam. She rips two thin pieces of flesh from my arm. One for her and one for Mommy. Seconds later she offers one back. "Mommy doesn't want it."

I take the span from her, roll it up, and pop it in my mouth. Salty. Spammy. I'm about to offer the lady a slice from my belly when I hear Eunjoo from across the aisle, "Couldn't you have made kim-bap?"

"Yes." I reply lightly. She will claim it was just an innocent question, but she asked it with a tone, so it is a complaint, and so I am in fight mode. I will start plain and defensive. Simple answers, offering nothing. This is the preparation stage of the fight. I must put my energy into recall. I must remember words and tones. Our fights always devolve into arguments about who started the fight. Early in our relationship, this would come down to who started being hurtful. Who first attacked the person instead of the issue. But now it begins with a tone, or the positioning of the question. Tones are hard to argue. They are hard to reproduce. There are translation issues.

I once thought I had won an argument by nailing the beginning of the fight down to a dismissive laugh and eye-roll combination. But she claimed this is Korean for genuine non-judgmental disbelieve. I didn't believe it- that such an expression has such subtle cultural variation- but I can't accuse her of lying. That isn't allowed. That fight ended in the most common of stale-mates: days of silence.

So arguing the question is a better route. Possibly I can claim that her question of 'Couldn't you have made kim-bap?' was the instigator. Clearly she knows I could have. So this is not really the question. Unless of course she wasn't sure there was any kim for making kim-bap, or any bap. This isn't a sure winner for me. It is really the tone that made it a fight for me. But if I claim this on too innocuous a tone, then I am being overly defensive, which is an admission of my fault in the issue.

As well as the spam trick worked in the army, the hammy smell perhaps makes it less ideal in these antiseptic KTX trains. I could concede fault now, it is not too late to do so gracefully, but I think I won't. I want to get some work done when I'm up in Seoul, and a win here could give me a bit of freedom to do that.

I know what you are thinking. Admitting fault is being the bigger man, and so is a moral win. Moral wins don't translate so well into relationship capital. How can I later use, 'I conceded on the spam thing, averting an imminent fight'?

I will take my chances, and go for the win. So I need to wait for her to give me a more decisive winner. And so in the meantime, keep my voice controlled, and light. This is hard for me. I am no actor. Tension and rising anger shines through me like the sun. It manifests in a widening of my eyes and a tightening of the lips. Stage one of the fight: give only short answers, feign nonchalance, remember everything.

I turn to the lady beside me. Lifting my shirt, I offer her a snack. "No thank-you." she says. "It smells hammy."