Arren's cold green eyes slide over to the more polite man, who offered his services up just in case he ever needed him. Those green eyes became a bit warmer and the ghost of a smile crossed his half visible face. At least this man had enough sense to know how infuriating it was to have someone barge in and so rudely take control of such a small place. Especially when it wasn't theirs to take. Arren's head tilted to the side and down a bit, in a sort of somber recognition of the other man's words.

"Aye," his soft raspy voice murmured, "Thanks."

With everyone out of the small space he felt so much more at ease than usual. Leaning back he continued to peel apples, the soft smell of food swirling around in a kind of comforting way. Arren wasn't a noble any more. He was a cook on a pirate ship. But he commanded his space and would only yield to the Captain. People should ask before taking in the kitchen. They had many men to feed and greedy little lairds who thought they could have whatever they like would not be tolerated. You steal something from the kitchen, you'd pay for it, one way or the other. They had a ration schedule to keep.

Speaking of which, he'd have to look it over and make adjustments so it would fit for the amount of food per person. Bringing up the record book, he skimmed through. Laughable. Hardly even kept up right. Leave it to pirates to keep a bad schedule of rations on the high seas were they could go untitled amount of days without food or water. With a sigh, he started to work the numbers as he prepped for the next day's breakfast. Any hole in the workings, he'd find and fix them one way or another. They'd have to know how much they would need to restock at their next docking, even if that was a bit ways away. He just had to concentrate.... Humming a soft tuneless tune, his hands worked away as his mind followed suit.