[francel would be unimpressed with lehko's dramatic posturing (he ate this morning!) if not for the fact that he feels particularly weak to it. boyhood memories flicker through francel's mind — a young haurchefant, denied dinner by his stepmother, crawling in through francel's bedroom window in the middle of the night, demanding snacks — and he finds himself smiling despite himself as he sets his tablet on a nearby desk and makes his way to the kitchen.]

Just a moment, if you would...

[the young elezen — or, perhaps, an oddly fair-skinned and boyish elvaan — hefts his (fairly heavy) knapsack onto the kitchen counter, rifling through its contents; he pulls packages out at odd angles (notably, keeping his own favorites at the bottom of the bag), leaving everything out for lehko to help himself to.]

Nothing is truly fresh, of course, but such is the lay of this land. I have... preserved bread... biscuits... some sort of... dried fish...?