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Thread: Of space... and Time... (Jeremy Varin)

  1. #41
    A last farewell to Lakali, and Jeremy pushed his way fully into the mess hall.

    It was a tidy, well-kept area with tables and possessed the sort of scents and sounds that one would expect to find in a grandmother's kitchen, strangely enough. Heady aromas of spice and cooking meats, and of course the occasional burst of chattering from Idiri Su'ul Ahan'war, chiding her converted B-1 battledroid sous chef in her native tongue. A metal ladle could be heard then, knocking against either a pot or Bone's head; both were a common occurrence.

    Leading the way to the main serving counter, Jeremy grabbed two trays from a pile, handing one to the young Lupine girl.

    "She acts mean," he winked, " ...but you'll never find a better cook."

  2. #42
    "Tacha, an'gahawari!"

    The ladle had been brandished as though it was a vibroblade, and sent to connect with the back of Bone's head as Idiri chastised the damnable thing for letting a small saucepot overboil slightly. It wasn't ruined, but it wasn't how she would've wanted it to be prepared. Her recipes were sacred and holy, and sometimes her droid helper was simply incapable of following standard directions. It was no wonder the droid armies lost so many of their ranks during the Clone Wars.

    The sound of two trays being picked up distracted her thankfully, and the old Kaleesh woman snapped her head toward the counter.

    Varin. The shuttle-man.

    "Being late for lunch," she admonished, "... not proper manners."

    The sight of a girl with him was curious, and her deep gaze descended on the young one with a measure of scrutiny.

    "Bringing... so'anlawri awr'aka... younglings? Is Captain making daycare of her ship, now?"

    Without waiting for an answer from Varin, she angled her head, addressing the girl.

    "What is name, girl."

  3. #43
    Trin did a double take as she heard metal on metal and the... whatever the cook was, finally turned to them both.

    As the insult was tossed her way, she clenched the tray tighter. Apparently, in her mind, she could insult herself, but no one else could. When the question was placed to her, she managed to straighten up slightly. "I'm Trinity. Trinity Sundergotte." She was going to add that she was a guest of the Captain, but it seemed like bragging. And she wasn't exactly sure if she was a guest, or merely being tolerated. Better to be safe than sorry.

    "It's my fault we are late. I didn't realize there were specific times for meals. My apologies." She didn't back down, but she didn't posture, either.

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