Mush? Mashed potatoes then? He took a moment to study his work, then quickly went about his task. After all the potatoes were neatly peeled, all the scraps were set aside in their own little pile. Any black spots in the flesh were flicked out by the tip of the paring knife, those scraps put into their own personal pile. Then, the third pile was formed from the roughly diced chunks of potato. A pile for useful, perhaps useful, and useless. He studied the three piles for a moment longer and then nodded to himself, apparently satisfied with his work. From somewhere on his person the Harlot suddenly pulled out a dagger, the steel glittering briefly. It was perhaps a surprise appearance, but the Harlot didn't seem to think it was a big deal. Instead he started to toy with the handle, rolling it in his hand and spinning it very slowly on his palm. He just tested the weight of the weapon and tried to grow familiar with it, tried to commit it to memory. If Noven looked alarmed or was looking at him for answers, Matthew would softly and quietly explain. "I am just trying to learn how to use it. I've realized a method of self-defense is somewhat required here in Sunberth."
He came to watch Noven as he cut his vegetables, grabbing a few of them himself and helping with the task. He was careful and respectful of the dagger and the space it occupied, sheathing it back onto his person whenever he was at a range where it could slip and potentially hit Noven. That would be his routine for a few moments while Noven explained. Chop and arrange vegetables, and absentmindedly practice spinning the dagger while waiting for more work to do.
Noven didn't pursue the idea of the philter, but Matthew thought he had seen a moment of interest flicker in his eyes. He'd just let it sit there and linger then. Perhaps the man would approach him about it later. Instead he focused on the explaination of the Mark. A Gnosis, something he was familar with. They had been all over Mura. Pain, was it? The ability was fitting, to say the least. He stared a moment as he moved around, arranging some of the heavy boxes of vegetables in a more orderly fashion. His slim muscles screamed under the work, but he ignored their cries. Noven would notice that if Matthew wasn't given some sort of work, Matthew would soon take it upon himself to start cleaning and organizing the rest of the kitchen.
A price? "What price?" He wasn't the sort to pick up on the fact that Noven wasn't really wanting to discuss that aspect of his mark. If Noven declined though, Matthew certainly wouldn't pursue the matter. However, he did have one more thing that he was curious about. The Mark seemed simple enough. Did it work like magic? Or was it a force of his own?
The dagger was slowly drawn out again and Matthew swiped with it, nicking the very tip of his finger and producing a single glistening drop of blood. He balanced it on his fingertip as he held out his hand, his curiosity perhaps a bit more severe than what Noven had accounted for. Matthew was fearless and apparently somewhat naive. "Can you use it on me? I would like to experience it." If Noven agreed, Matthew would be quick to grab a rag and stuff it in his mouth. No need to alarm the children. If he didn't agree, he would merely apply pressure to his small cut until it had stopped bleeding. Then they would just move on.
