[Gepard sings in the shower. He doesn’t sing well, exactly, but it’s an endearing thing regardless— the faint sound of off-key singing echoing in a tile room. Very domestic.]

[It’s strange to see the Captain so dressed down when he gets to the table, even stranger to see the look on his face— the man could take learning that there’s a bloodsucking monster in Belobog, but is shocked by a salad. And, sure, it’s hard to find leafy greens on a planet stuck in eternal winter, but there are a few hydroponic gardens that grow the few that have survived on this planet. Chard, obviously, being one of them.]

You’re welcome. [Good boy, good manners.] Glad you like it!

[The beef is so tender that cutting it with a knife is really just a formality, the richness cut a little by the acidity in the balsamic mushrooms. It is still very stick-to-your-ribs kind of food, but when you’re running around all day in the winterlands, you probably need the insulation. It’ll be good for him, Gepard could probably stand to gain a pound or two.]

If you have any feedback, I’d like to hear it. I can’t taste things as I go, so I’m kind of relying on memory and guesswork!

[Don’t mind him as he watches you eat. It’s just a little bit out of envy, it’s fine.]