[There's a split-second of surprise. There's a moment of comprehension dawning, that Figaro (he really, definitely needs to know this man's real name, he has to be called something better than Figaro) actually was continuing with the flirting that he had done the night before...?

Gepard's surprised. He's...very flustered. He hides it by taking a bite of the pastry, which doesn't help as it's tasty, nice, nicer than what he usually eats in the morning, it's actually more substantial than toast and coffee. He has no idea what to say to that. What should he say to that?

Help comes from the most unexpected place: Figaro himself, as he wrinkles his nose. It would be charming if it wasn't concerning. But, it gives him something easy to latch onto as he chews and swallows.]

Of course I'm concerned. [He wrinkles his nose right back at Figaro, taking a sip of the coffee. (Which is quite good! But maybe his standards aren't exactly high.) What now, asshole?] When's the soonest you need to feed? And what would I need to do to get ready for it...assuming you can stomach me.

[No, Gepard will never live down tasting like shit. But he can bluster through it, a captain and also someone thinking with his dick, and also someone generally concerned as for all his...dietary requirements, Figaro's not the worst company (not in that way) and he's got nice eyes.]