Atrius let her tap and scrape on his slate while he fussed over the stew. There wasn't a whole lot to do to it. Meanwhile he found his tin of biscuits. He set them out. They would be a touch tough to eat, but they were all he had. He stirred his stew and it hit a boil so he moved off of direct heat, took a few tastes and adjusted the seasoning a tweak. He wasn't a gourmet or anything, but when you cooked all of your own meals you either lowered your standards or you raised your culinary skill.<br/><br/>He stood to go fetch his dished and wooden eating utensils. He took a look at her drawing. He shrugged, "I'm sorry, I don't think I've ever seen anything like that. I mean it almost looks too fantastic to really exist." Though his idea of what was too fantastical to exist had been thoroughly shaken by beautiful maidens in metal catacombs.<br/><br/>"I suppose the monks might know, but I don't think they want to talk to us." He didn't smile, but there was a wry tinge to his voice. He dished up their dinner. "We'll think of something, come on let's eat." He gestured to the food. "You're not going to hurt my feelings if you don't like it, but I'm not making anything special. I don't care if you can float."