yaris 19, 2719 - in the evening
Brunnhold didn't need to take up space in his mind. There was enough in there already.
Lars went about rolling out the rest of the dough, setting each finished piece to the side for the imbala to take and fry in the pan. It all smelled amazing - the spices, the garlic and ginger and onion in the eggplant mixture, the dough frying in oil - and only served to solidify his hunger in his mind (and his stomach).
Once he had finished, the pale-haired passive stepped a bit more to the side, watching as Aremu finished frying the last of the dough and set it on a plate with the rest. He was opening the oven again, then, taking out the filled eggplant halves and setting them onto the plates he had gotten out, and Lars accepted his plate with a smile and an appreciative dip of his head. He followed the other man to the table, setting his plate down but not sitting just yet, seeing as Aremu left again to go fetch something else. It felt... rude, perhaps, to sit before his host, and so he waited.
Aremu brought out the jar of yogurt and a spoon, afterwards getting what looked like juice from the icebox and pouring them each a glass. Lars offered quiet words of thanks as his juice was set before him, and then again, when he was brought a linen napkin. It was then that the Hessean finally made to sit down, setting his napkin over his lap out of habit and going to grab his fork.
He looked up from his plate and towards the imbala, smiling at the words - Aremu scooped from the eggplant with a torn piece of bread, and Lars set down his fork despite the mention that he could use it (or perhaps, because of it). He reached for the bread, setting a piece on his plate and tearing a bit off, afterwards using it in place of the utensil as Aremu had done. He brought it to his mouth, and chewed, his expression thoughtful and after a moment or two of consideration, pleased.
The bread served to add a chewy, stable base for the filling, which was... flavorful, above all else, and warm, and somehow comforting. Lars had never known food to be comforting, but this - odi'yuw'eqep - was certainly so. Lars smiled, again, tearing another piece from his bread.
"Very good," said the passive, "thank you. I think I've missed out, not having Mugrobi food until now," he took another bite, then, chewing and letting his eyes wander the room. He took notice of the things Aremu had brought in, finally, the paper and pen, the chalk and wood-lined slate, but he did not mention them yet. He didn't wish to make the other man work while he ate.
Lars reached for his glass, next, taking a sip of juice as he considered the situation. He had never... well, he had stayed in Professor Moore's home for a bit, but he had never been a proper guest in anyone's home, had he? Professor Moore had taken him out of pity, to keep him stable and safe until the situation could be properly assessed. Aremu, however, had no obligation to him - he owed him nothing, in fact Lars probably owed the imbala instead, and yet he continued to show him kindness for nothing in return.