Dining Hall | Lunch Hour
Lars was silent as he worked; ignoring the ongoing conversations around him that flooded the kitchens but dared not spill out into the cafeteria. His fellow passives were chattier than normal in the almost three week's time since Terrence and his unfortunate end - he preferred to fall back on the comfortable silence. He cared not to speak with them about how their treatment would change as a result of the diablerie, cared not to gossip and spread rumors about those involved - the hateful students and staff alike who had criticized Professor Moore and Doctor Aubellard's swift treatment of passive injuries - instead he kept his golden head down and focused on his work. It was the best thing for him to do, as otherwise he was surely to fly off the handle.
A soft sigh escaped his lips, cold hands kneading dough that was resistant to cooperate, and the passive eventually set it aside to move on to other, more likely-to-succeed tasks. Actually cooking rather than prepping, for one.
The day's lunch consisted of potatoes, grilled hingle, and a variety of vegetables - not the most fanciful nor the most flavorful, but it was a solid meal nonetheless. They were saving the good stuff for the first of the year, he imagined, but somehow the passive had managed to get tomorrow away from the kitchen. What he would be tasked with instead was beyond him at the moment, but he didn't dwell on his lacking knowledge, he just got to preparing the meal.
The kitchens smelled of thyme and it was easy for Lars to forget about the world and the rather unfortunate state of it, his hands and mind occupied with other things. His thoughts drifted about; first straying to his former roommate, Fionn, and wondering for only a moment what the young man was up to. These thoughts were shaken off as he started plating food, and his mind saw it fit to think about a kinder, less violent man instead - Professor Moore.
The Hessean bit the inside of his cheek, fingers tapping against the counter almost nervously. A few of his fellow servants came to the line beside him, starting to serve the students and faculty alike as they approached with their trays and their expectant, hostile gazes. Lars' faraway blue eyes flicked down to stare into the vegetables, eyeing the steam as it rose.
Professor Moore. Why did he let himself think about him still? It wasn't as if anything bad had happened between them, of course, nothing had happened at all really - but it did neither of them any good to let his thoughts linger. He was a professor. Any and all care and investment he might have in Lars' life was simply that - professional. It wasn't meant to be anything else. Of course.
So why was there such a strange and unforgiving nagging in his chest that pulled against that truth?
An elbow jabbed gently at his side, pulling him from his ruminations and dragging his gaze from the vegetables in favor of the passive at his side. For a moment his eyes deceived him; a ruffled and sleep-deprived professor staring back at him expectantly, before blinking revealed another former roommate's form instead.
"You good, Lars?" inquired Jamie, the brunette raising an eyebrow in question, "you can go back to prepping if you need to."
"Oh, no," the blonde offered with a slight shake of his head, "he's fine; sorry."
"No problem," his friend assured, "go out and make sure no one needs anything else, that'll wake you up."
The older man gave a nod of agreement, pushing away from the serving line and exiting the kitchens to survey the cafeteria. He passed by tables of students, looking over their tables and trays of food and keeping his ears open for any calls for assistance. Soon enough he was called to grab emptied trays, the Hessean grabbing them and carrying them at his side as he continued on.