The racket from the kitchen had initially startled Morgan, but when she didn’t smell blood and heard the din taper into the more controlled sounds of kitchenware moving about, she relaxed and returned her attention to the feline before her. Jungo that cat was clearly at odds as to how to respond to her, his movements terse and cautious. He did seem rather curious about her taguel armour, but he remained rooted a safe distance away until she had crouched down. Patiently the half-taguel waited for him, the soft smile on her face never disappearing as she continued to outstretch her hand to the tabby.
Gold met sapphire as the cat regarded her, and at his meow she giggled. "I thought so. This place doesn’t look very accommodating for dragons."
At last, little Jungo ventured a sniff at her hand, and then the familiar gentle abrasion of his tongue on her palm. Ah, he had finally grown at least a little comfortable around her. The purring prompted Morgan to gingerly pet the tabby, lightly scratching behind his ears and under his chin.
Jungo’s voice - the human one - cut through the quiet interaction, and the ravenette’s head snapped upward in slight surprise. It took her a moment to register what he had asked, but then she smiled and straightened. Having him ask her her preferences was… odd. Morgan wasn’t used to people offering or considering she had diet restrictions. Behind him, she could see the kitchen all set up; it was clear he was skilled in his profession, so organized was his counter tops.
It was more out of conscious respect for taguels, despite being one of the three left in Ylisse. Well, one now; both Panne and Yarne had died in her future, but that wasn’t something to be thinking about now. Nope, it was a very bad idea to go into a mental breakdown in front of a stranger.
"And if you could… could you slice up a few fruits on a separate dish?"
Instead of verbally explaining her second request, she lifted one hand up over her shoulder and rubbed her thumb and first two fingers together. A croon answered her gesture, and the scaly pink head of a dragon, about the same size as the feline Jungo, popped out from her hood. The young reptilian clambered onto his favourite perch on Morgan’s shoulder, where he cocked his head inquisitively at the taller chef, scrutinizing him, his abode.
"Jesaiah is partial to those." It sounded so strange to say it as if she were having a casual conversation about the weather. "Oh, uhm… don’t worry about him. He’s trained, and I don’t think he breathes fire…"
