Blaise in Space! fanfic100 prompt 57 (Lunch)
They call it a mess hall. Blaise knows it's military terminology, but after watching some of them eat (scientists and military alike), he thinks it's a perfectly appropriate label.
The first time he goes to eat lunch in the mess hall after aborting his attempts at transfiguring his food, he regrets not eating there from the start. It seems to be very much like public school. Everyone already has their favorite tables and eating companions. There's a little mixing of military and civilian, but not much.
There are too many people for such a thing as a quiet corner to exist, but Blaise finds a mostly out of the way empty table and sits down. He's dividing his meal into equal-sized sections and rearranging it on his plate, hoping that perhaps a better presentation will make it more palatable when Dr Weir approaches the table. She gestures to the seat across from him.
"Mind if I sit here?"
Blaise cocks his head and raises a questioning eyebrow. He doesn't mind, but he certainly didn't expect the expedition's leader to want to sit with him. There are other empty seats, even another empty table. "Be my guest," he replies. It's the courteous answer.
"Thank you." She smiles as she sets down her tray and settles down into the chair across from him. "I don't think I've seen you in here before." She tucks right in to her meal, giving him a questioning look.
He hears the question. Why hasn't he been in here before? Answering with the truth ("I was trying to magically alter the food and didn't think that would go over well.") just wasn't going to happen. Blaise figures it can't hurt not to answer an unspoken question.
"No. I've been taking my meals in my quarters." There. Responding only to what was said. A perfectly honest reply at that.
Dr Weir's eyes narrow. "Why the change?" Smooth. Trying for a different tack. Blaise would be impressed if that sort of thing weren't actually her job.
In the middle of chewing, he's grateful for the extra time to come up with a good response.
"I'm not usually concerned with what others think of me. But in such a small community I felt it might be better... Well. I have to work with everybody here. And." He hesitates and realizes he's gesturing with his fork. He breaks eye contact and looks down at his plate as he sets the utensil down. "To be honest, I don't know." He shrugs and looks back up.
She reaches across the table and touches his sleeve. "Well, whatever the reason, I'm glad. We're all pretty isolated here; there's no reason to isolate yourself further. And like you said, you've got to work with these people."
His appetite is gone. The unappealing food and questions don't mix well. He's with Dr McKay this afternoon. He can catch a powerbar later. "Speaking of work, I've got to go." He stands and sketches a slight bow. "Good afternoon, Dr Weir."