[It has nothing to do with being homey, he thinks. It simply does not look like a kitchen, with so many sleek surfaces of steel and sterility and strangely-shaped devices spread out across the countertops.
It reminds him of the interior of that other god, the mechanical one, cold and automated. But here... People prepare food in here?
They must. The scent of two freshly seared steaks beckon. Weir curls his lower lip.]
I thought you said it was too late for steak.
[He says as he draws closer to peer at the stove.]
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It reminds him of the interior of that other god, the mechanical one, cold and automated. But here... People prepare food in here?
They must. The scent of two freshly seared steaks beckon. Weir curls his lower lip.]
I thought you said it was too late for steak.
[He says as he draws closer to peer at the stove.]