[hold on a second…he’s getting mixed messages here. it might not be wise to trust a creepy looking human who is curious about his inner working and wants to take him to the kitchen.] “Whoa, whoa, whoa, HOLD UP, lady. I’ll be happy to cook dinner for ya’, but if you’re plannin’ on making me the dinner, then we’ll have some trouble. Just so ya’ know.”
Why would anyone want to eat a subject as interesting as this creature was? She was even being as polite as she could–in her own sort of way–and would keep any tools for dissection away from him. Besides, there didn’t seem to be a lot of meat in his frame. He’d make a nice broth, though. “There is no need for me to eat–it’s merely pleasantries if I ever decide to crave. Though I think the others would like to try your cooking.”
“Ahh…well, I didn’t fall from a tree, lady. I sent myself, of course! Smells like rotten eggs in here, figured you could use the help. So do I get a complimentary apron or what?”
"I was working with sulfuric compounds before– Were you made with some sort of amphibious features? You don’t have a nose, but cutaneous gas exchange has not been known to possess any sort of olfactory receptors along with it. … I’ll take you to the kitchen myself. There should be an apron that can fit you in there.”
“Nope. Say hello to your new personal chef! I’ll be on weekdays till 9. Weekends end strictly at 7- no exceptions”
“Personal chef? Who sent you to me with such a job? And who made you? I’ve never seen skin pigmentation like that–and the grafting to shape the globular body is so smooth.”
