"You are too kind," Solae replied reflexively. Though his compliment was genuine she had become accustomed to flattery, sincere and not, as a means to gain her favor. Without fail it was accompanied by or chased by a request for an audience with her parents, utilizing her status for their benefit, or entertaining an engagement proposal. As a future Marquise she knew that her chances for a relationship and wedding borne of romantic passion were slim. No matter how prolific nobility thought they were with exacting someone's intentions and motivations, they were far from perfect.

It was only after Rene had left to shower that she realized that his comment had no apparent ulterior motive. If anything the Imperial Marine was helping [i]her[/i] rather than the other way around and had not exacted any price for doing so. Idly she considered that he might have joined the military not to avoid a sordid or criminal past (as she had initially assumed) but because he did not have the disposition for ruthless double-speak of the courts. He was kinder, selfless, and more thoughtful than any Lord, Count, Viscount, Marchess, Duke, or other associated title she had met.

"Mia, do you have the recipe for Grundel Biscuits?" she asked the artifical intelligence system after sitting in silence for a moment.

"Yes, of course Lady Solae," it purred as it displayed a list of ingredient as well as instructions in pale golden text in the center of the kitchen. Grundel Biscuits were created during one of the man wars the Empire engaged in to make a civilization submit to their rule and control. Citizens left at home created a foodstuff that did not require refrigeration, lasted as long as most rations, but had more nutrients- so long as you were willing to pay the price for the expensive groceries required to create them. Lord Armon was not a man of moderation and thus Solae found everything she needed even if it meant further interaction with a sultry synthetic being.

Chopped nuts, seeds, dried fruit, grain, and a medley of fruits crushed into a powder were mixed together with a flour grown on a distant planet that created a dense, slightly crunchy bread with unrivaled shelf life so long as it was not damp. Solae kneaded the materials together, formed them into a ball that she then shaped into a block, and sliced the dough into squares before sticking it into the oven. Perhaps it was not a delicacy (even to an enlisted man), but if they were running from rebellion forces for weeks they would need more than could be found foraging.

With an eye towards preparedness Solae hummed and began a list with Mia of essentials to be packed before they left the residence. The linguistic expert did not foresee needing to evacuate before dawn, and if they were lucky not for a couple days, but preparing for the worst case scenario soothed her. Focusing on practical issues, creating a solution, and working her way through a task did not allow her to dwell on what she could not change. Rene was still the brawn of the pair but she could contribute to their survival in different ways.

"Oh, you're back," she remarked with a smile. The faucet turned itself on as it sensed her hands underneath and she rinsed off the sticky residue off her fingers. Flicking them dry she spun and saw Rene standing in the doorway covered with more bruises than she thought possible. Solae's face was clearly showed horror at his injuries, not because they were ghastly to behold, but because she could not imagine how much pain they must be causing her companion. A split second later it registered he [i]had no shirt on[/i] and her perfect courtly mask faltered as she flushed at the musculature he was so passively displaying.

"Are you okay?" she heard herself say, though she knew he couldn't be 'okay.' For the same reason she had dodged that exact inquiry earlier she expected he would do the same. He was injured, he was tired, he was famished, and he was devastated not only at the loss of his friends and family on New Concordia but also of the life he had led until yesterday.

"Lady Solae, Sir Rene, are you related?" Mia asked. Solae was so dumbfounded by the question that she had immediately said, "No," without thought about [i]why[/i] the strange, sensual voice of the AI was asking.

Immediately the lights in the dining room and kitchen dimmed until they were no brighter than candlelight and classical music began to play softly over Mia's system. A subtle scene of flowers was released into the immediate vicinity, which made Solae (who was startled and half-terrified at the light reduction) relax despite herself. "Mia... Mia, what are you doing?"

"I am programmed to provide the best atmosphere for my guests," Mia breezily replied. "I have been monitoring your vital signs since you entered the manor so I may best alert you of physical distress exceeding what you have already sustained. Just now I sensed a slight rise in both your core temperatures as well as a slight acceleration of the heart rate, indicative of a desire to..."

"All right, all right, thank you Mia," Solae quickly intervened in a tight, high voice. In all her life she did not think she had ever been quite as mortified as she was now.