How he liked his meat? What kind of question was that? Still looking at the blazing fire, Mathieu blinked not once but twice. He liked his meat with beans or potatoes. A good bowl of soup and a piece of crunchy fresh bread on the side. A good glass of wine with it. Perhaps even a little piece of that delicacy named cake that some nobles sometimes offered after his show. And he highly doubted that was the meaning of her question. ... Not... raw... he simply said, not really understanding the question. He forced himself away from the fire to avoid looking too much of a loner. It wouldn't be appropriate to do that when he was being offered dinner - although in a way this meal could be considered as a repayment for the earlier aggression. ... So... How do you find a master? he asked almost aimlessly while leaning on a sidewall of the small room. This was merely an attempt to strike a conversation, he didn't think much beyond that. Though looking for a master was the last thing he imagined anyone to do, even if it were in the genes. Usually masters would look for slaves, not the opposite way around. |