[ While Luciola sets to work Noh-Varr watches him, considering a single worker more than enough for the task at hand. Despite his offer to 'help', he's really here to supervise...or perhaps just to keep Luciola company. He huffs out an amused breath at the uncertain pause Luciola does over the sugar. Once upon a time, that had been him. Absently, he begins measuring out two cups of water, and the oil.
The Kree view food as they do just about everything else: it must be minimalist, practical, and it must be genetically ideal. The Kree would find Earth's preoccupation with genetic modification in food laughable, when their fare is typically composed of nutritionally dense, tasteless porridges and bars. Food is fuel, it is not representative of pleasure or social communion. Earth, in that way, was something of a revelation: music, and food, and dance, and so many ways of gaining pleasure of the senses, every indulgence accepted.
Now, he'd still prefer a good vinyl to dessert, but he can stomach more sugar than he otherwise would. ]
Why did you ask Warriorhead for a task?
[ He doesn't find the idea strange, per se. Noh-Varr is not what anyone might call lazy, but he guards his relaxation time jealously. Having come from a militarized background, however, he can see where Luciola might have found the emptiness taxing. ]
Luciola had asked himself that same thing once it had been handed down that the task he had received would be to make cupcakes. It seemed a waste of time that could far easily be used to do something actually productive. If the desire was to raise morale, why not do something that survived their odds of survival? If the act of creation was what they desired to teach, why not create something with more substance than a sweet cake that would be gone in moments?
But he had received it. There was no taking it back now. As he turned the question over in his head, trying to avoid the heart of the truthful answer, (dismissed), his expression darkened slightly, a slight pause in his motions before he mechanically resumed measuring, precise to the point it became almost silly to see.]
As I had nothing to attend to, it seemed best to make myself of available to the superiors.
[But actual lies were never his way, and even that answer smells faintly of excuse. An aide and guard to an Eraclea scion never had nothing to attend to- attendance to one's lord was a job that occupied all of one's time, even if it was spent merely tailing them silently or being at their side in case of some task needing doing or call for service. Luciola had great respect for rank and equally great awareness of social hierarchy, but he had never showed the same care for the CDC higher ups- not like the care shown his own lord.
Friend. Former friend?
His expression melted from the dark of negative thoughts to the soft ache of insecurity, however subtle such a change was, mere angle of the brows, slight inward draw of the bottom lip.]
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The Kree view food as they do just about everything else: it must be minimalist, practical, and it must be genetically ideal. The Kree would find Earth's preoccupation with genetic modification in food laughable, when their fare is typically composed of nutritionally dense, tasteless porridges and bars. Food is fuel, it is not representative of pleasure or social communion. Earth, in that way, was something of a revelation: music, and food, and dance, and so many ways of gaining pleasure of the senses, every indulgence accepted.
Now, he'd still prefer a good vinyl to dessert, but he can stomach more sugar than he otherwise would. ]
Why did you ask Warriorhead for a task?
[ He doesn't find the idea strange, per se. Noh-Varr is not what anyone might call lazy, but he guards his relaxation time jealously. Having come from a militarized background, however, he can see where Luciola might have found the emptiness taxing. ]
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Luciola had asked himself that same thing once it had been handed down that the task he had received would be to make cupcakes. It seemed a waste of time that could far easily be used to do something actually productive. If the desire was to raise morale, why not do something that survived their odds of survival? If the act of creation was what they desired to teach, why not create something with more substance than a sweet cake that would be gone in moments?
But he had received it. There was no taking it back now. As he turned the question over in his head, trying to avoid the heart of the truthful answer, (dismissed), his expression darkened slightly, a slight pause in his motions before he mechanically resumed measuring, precise to the point it became almost silly to see.]
As I had nothing to attend to, it seemed best to make myself of available to the superiors.
[But actual lies were never his way, and even that answer smells faintly of excuse. An aide and guard to an Eraclea scion never had nothing to attend to- attendance to one's lord was a job that occupied all of one's time, even if it was spent merely tailing them silently or being at their side in case of some task needing doing or call for service. Luciola had great respect for rank and equally great awareness of social hierarchy, but he had never showed the same care for the CDC higher ups- not like the care shown his own lord.
Friend. Former friend?
His expression melted from the dark of negative thoughts to the soft ache of insecurity, however subtle such a change was, mere angle of the brows, slight inward draw of the bottom lip.]
My intent was to be of use.
[Intent, at least.]