[h1][center][color=0072bc]Ben-E218[/color][/center][/h1] 

Reluctantly, Ben took his helmet off. As with many Spartans, he felt more at home in his armor than anywhere else. Then again, there were some drawbacks. During a particularly long mission, his armor stank to high heavens and low hell after spending all of several weeks in it, only removing his helmet for brief periods to hastily consume his rations. He cut a rather fearsome appearance, with short, dark brown hair bordering on black, dark green eyes set against his pale white complexion, his face marked by long scars he'd been given by a Sanghelli in one of his first missions. Had the blade cut much closer, he would have lost one or both eyes if not his head. Each scar ran diagonally, one above the other, each running from above his left eye and moving down to beneath his right. 

Ben ordered some simple fare, finding it a welcome change from the MREs he so often subsisted on out of necessity. He ordered the turkey dinner with orange juice on the side, no dessert. The turkey itself was quite good, and it reminded the spartan of a time he was on Reach long ago, back when moa nuggets weren't a rare delicacy. It was perhaps the only guilty pleasure of his entire life, and thanks to Reach's glassing, moa meat was off the menu. He wasn't sure if the moa had been exported or not, but it wasn't really a priority for him to find out right now. The rations aboard the ship were generous, and had been since the war had ended. It took an entire plate just to contain Ben's food, with almost no room for the OJ. 

Ben had settled down when he heard Grikgar coughing. Concerned, he wheeled around, only to find that the Unggoy was alright after all; it was simply a matter of overly-spicy food, not a choking situation or a case of food poisoning. Of course, Grik's food manners were abominable, eating everything by hand, making a mess, and dressing in what would definitely be considered out of uniform by UNSC regulations. Of course, half the Covenant had dressed poorly by humanity's standards. Ben had actually used this to his advantage once, tossing a sharpened stone underneath the bare foot of a Brute as he was on patrol. It did little to actually harm the bear-like alien, but it definitely caused enough pain to distract him and let Ben evade detection. 

He walked over to Grik, giving him some extra napkins to wipe himself off with. The Grunt had proved himself to adeptly play the part of a messy child. At least, a normal child. Ben himself never made a mess as a kid himself, and the discipline was quite harsh when it came to keeping things tidy back in his Spartan III training days. He didn't know what Grikgar's childhood had been like, but from what he knew, Grunts in the Covenant military were also trained from the youth, albeit for a much shorter time, given their faster rate of growth and short childhood.

[color=0072bc]"Coffee has a very mild stimulant called caffeine. It's not really addictive or harmful unless consumed in a very large amount. Still, too much caffeine can make you hyper, especially if you have a low body mass. Hmm. I suppose you aren't [i]that[/i] light, but I don't know how caffeine will affect your biology. Probably best to keep to one cup of coffee."[/color] Although he didn't show it, Ben secretly found the notion of an overcaffinated Grunt to be quite amusing.  

[color=0072bc]"Maybe you'd like some orange juice instead? It's not even remotely addictive, I promise you. Now, let's get this cleaned up, okay? And on a minor note, we don't eat most foods with our hands around the UNSC. Perhaps I'll show you how to use a fork, knife, and spoon next time."[/color] He realized that he had been talking much more than usual. It was interesting, having someone to look after, even in this small way and in this one instance.