To my relief, Aurora relaxes. Tentatively, she even smiles at my words. “Um… do I cook? Let’s see. I can heat things up. I come from an area where our food gets delivered in mic-trays. Everything’s prepped in pre-rationed portions; all we do is nuke it. Does that count as cooking?” I reel back as far as our grip allows, and tsk. “You poor alien plebeian.”
