Tycho shifted as Rondaux announced the completion of his culinary efforts, readying himself for Lil' Do's ladle. The duo had clocked enough mission ops and downtime together for Tycho to have learned the value of being close to the front of the meal queue with yiur mess kit close at hand. Partly it was a matter of hunger; but mostly it was about getting the prime stew pieces rather than the congealed scraps and remnants that sunk their way to the bottom of the cook pot.

The Sergeant offered an appreciative smile as Rondoux mounded the Dagoban cacophony of hearty ingredients into his tin, and fished out one of the thin slabs of bread from the ration packet to use as makeshift cutlery. The man behind him in the queue - a ground tech from the look of him - leaned forward to inspect the pot's contents; Tycho's hand gently caught hold of his shoulder, discouraging his curiosity.

"Best not t' look, friend," Tycho suggested, shooting him a knowing glance. "It's a symphony f' the taste buds, not the eyeballs. Best t' just get it in you an' not think about it too much."