"I couldn't sleep, so I decided I would make breakfast instead - if you'd like something, I wouldn't mind fixing it for you. I feel up to it today." His smile is sheepish, voice hesitant (a little scratchy, but not as raw and frail as it used to be) - back turned, as if he doesn't really care who he makes his offer to. (If you look close, unseen hands move spices and ingredients: a helpful spirit hovering as always.) "It's alright if you'd rather not have something right now, though."
Unprompted || Always Accepting (feel free to turn into threads)!
To be up at odd hours of the morning, especially when Sandalphon was away from the ship, wasn’t unusual for him. With the cafe’s main attendant was off on a mission, he took caring for it in his place fairly seriously - or rather, it was an excuse to occupy his worried mind, and keep him busy so he didn’t fret too much over the other’s safety. It was a slightly more productive way to spend the time apart than before when he had once made so much coffee in his distress he had used every mug the current Supreme Primarch had collected over his journey with the crew, and been forced to move onto to bowls until Lyria had cut off his nonsensical coffee making by pointing out that he had made enough to provide it for, at least, three different islands, and was swiftly running out of supplies. Now, he tried to take up his time by tending to the cafe, alongside the plants that were kept in it, reading, writing letters - among other hobbies he was trying at the insistence of various members of the crew. So, he always woke early, though it was often he didn’t sleep much at all, to ensure he was up before the earliest of risers in order to have all of the supplies and preparations finished so those who started their day with a cup of coffee would be able to get one just as the sun was beginning to rise (determined to maintain the cafe’s good name, though one could argue his far more polite and agreeable nature, alongside his willings to add sugar and other ingredients to the brews ordered, already made him easier to deal with as a whole - though if one were to bring that up to him, he would be largely unaware of it). His footsteps always silent as he made his way down the hall so he wouldn’t wake anyone - pearly wings tucked tightly against his back to halt any rustling of his feathers for the same reason. It wasn’t unusual for him to spot one or even a few others awake so early - either because they were tasked with steering the ship at nightfall or keeping a look out, or because they were much like himself, and struggled to sleep properly.
But the click of glass and metal against the counter in the kitchen draws his attention, and he pauses in the doorway to peer inside for a moment. Gaze flickering across the still mostly unlit space as he watches the fair-haired Erune gather supplies from the cupboards. Though he’s interested in the other members of the crew, and ever eager to learn more about them, he’s not entirely familiar with the countless members that travel amongst - or rather, he’s not met every one of them just yet. And, despite his curiosity, as well as his desire to learn, he keeps to himself more than one might expect - a lingering exhaustion and weariness from his former duties still weighing him down; it makes him enjoy the sense of peace he feels when he’s simply able to spent quiet time with Sandalphon. Which can make him difficult to track down at times. Even so, he memorizes the names and faces of those mentioned to him in passing, those he happens to see out of the corner of his eyes, or those he’s seen listed beside items on supply runs whenever he accompanies those sent out pick things up from the markets and towns they pass. So, while he’s never personally spoken to or formally met the other, he’s still able to pull his name from the depths of his memory: Sarunan, he believes, he knows little more about the other than that. Though, his attention is drawn, for a moment, to the spices and ingredients that seem to gently land onto the counter around him. It’s a curious thing - given his own age and experience, he could make a handful of assumptions, though chooses not dull on it for long. No longer harboring his former powers, save for the weak spark stored in his makeshift wings, he doesn’t possess the same instincts or senses he once had so there’s little point in speculating needlessly.
His fleeting moment of curiosity; however, has lead to him unintentionally wandering into the kitchen to get a better view, and his wings naturally unfurl in the wider space - feathers ruffling with the motion. And that’s when he hears the other speak up, a gentle smile quickly forming upon his lips in greeting even if he doesn’t turn to look at him, or even appear all that interested in who he happens to be making the offer to. His voice sounds a bit hesitant, and slightly scratchy, but he hasn’t spoken to the other before so he can’t say for certain if that’s standard for him or not. To accept something offered to him or to ask for something, he’s always found it a bit difficult. He had spent nearly his entire life never asking for anything at all, and keeping his own wishes tucked safely within the convoluted confines of his own core. It’s something he still struggles with, and a part of him wants to decline the offer so as to not make trouble for the other, but another part of him believes doing so would be outright rude, and he finds himself torn between the two of them as he watches the spices be placed onto the counter by something he’s not capable of seeing until he finally brings himself to a decision that he prays won’t be a burden to the other.
“You have my thanks for the offer. If you are willing to do so, I would be grateful.” Food, he’s been told, is one of the many way Skydwellers connect with one another so, perhaps, by accepting he might come to learn more about the other. A strange perspective to have, but he has an endless list of customs and norms and terms he still needs to learn as he slowly begins to adjust amongst them. “If you are in need of any additional assistance, I would be more than willing to help with whatever I am able to.” He has cooked a handful of times since joining the crew. He doesn’t believe it’s something he’s bad at - according to Sandalphon (though the other’s opinion is highly questionable), and ask anyone save for the new Supreme Primarch, and they will only shake their heads while clamping their lips shut (truth be told, he’s an awful cook, and his creations are quite possibly poisonous to those who don’t also happen to be immortal, thus why there’s often an effort to keep out of the kitchen whenever the idea of cooking slips into his mind). “If not, I can prepare coffee. If there is a certain type of brew you favor, I’ll be able to make it for you.” Coffee; however, is something he can make flawlessly, though he would never praise himself so highly despite having been its original creator.
