How could the water not be safe to drink? [ Dimitri asks, with a frown. There's a part of him that just wants to grump, to push away from Trevor and go back to himself...but he is a bit hungry. And he is still kind of tired. He can suffer through this for the moment. ]
Say what you will about Fódlan, but we've never had problems of that sort.
[ There's a moment's pause before Dimitri answers. ]
A simple taste palate is still a taste palate. I don't even have that. For the past nine years, I haven't been able to taste much of anything. [ He's still, watching Trevor with a frown as he continues the conversation. ]
I like textures. And I can feel the heat or the cold in my teeth. But I'll eat whatever you make simply because I have no way of knowing if it's good or not.
[ Dimitri mentioned that he hasn't been able to taste much of anything for the past nine years. The Tragedy of Duscar, the event where Dimitri's family was massacred, where he was the only survivor, happened nine years ago.
He's not an idiot. He can put together the correlation. But he's keeping it to himself. Instead, he lets out a tired little chuckle before asking, ]
[he chuckles too, more out of soreness and Trevor’s ham-handed way of getting to the point. But he’s always had an issue with being caught in infectious laughter]
[ Dimitri takes a bite of potatoes. It's hot, hotter than he's expecting, so he puts the fork down and quickly takes a drink of the beer to help cool his throat. He blows on the potatoes a bit before taking another, smaller bite. ]
It's good, [ says the man who literally just confessed to being unable to taste things. ]
[ And honestly? As long as Trevor wants to keep up the silence, Dimitri will match it. He's not one for a lot of conversation anyway. He's fine just eating his potatoes and enjoying the silence between them. ]
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Re: spam!
Does the Admiral claim these comas have any use? Or is it simply to torment us?
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That wouldn't surprise me. The man seems incompotent at best.
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[Trevor is very say-what-he-means, especially when it comes to the Admiral. He heads for the kitchens]
Got a favorite hangover food or should I make you some of mine?
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[ Most food tastes the same to Dimitri these days anyway. ]
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[Always the best hangover food for Trevor, who starts up the fryer]
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[ he's baby ]
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[He starts slicing some potatoes up into thin medallions for frying]
You want to try some? Water's surprisingly good here.
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Say what you will about Fódlan, but we've never had problems of that sort.
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[Trevor sets to work, dropping the potatoes into the fryer and searching in the fridge]
You like cheese?
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Most foods taste the same to me. As long as it's not too hot or too cold, the taste doesn't matter.
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[He seems to be asking genuinely, even if the question is phrased rudely]
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Is that you asking because you give a damn or simply to be nosy?
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[He grunts, pulling out parmesan cheese and some thyme from the spice rack]
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A simple taste palate is still a taste palate. I don't even have that. For the past nine years, I haven't been able to taste much of anything. [ He's still, watching Trevor with a frown as he continues the conversation. ]
I like textures. And I can feel the heat or the cold in my teeth. But I'll eat whatever you make simply because I have no way of knowing if it's good or not.
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So you weren’t born that way. I know some infections happen that can make a person deaf or blind or mute.
Do you miss it?
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Not really, [ Dimitri shrugs. ] I've gone without it for long enough that it doesn't matter to me.
cw; graphic depicitions of death, fire
When my family burned to death, all I could smell for weeks was the ash and boiling flesh.
Fucks with your head.
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He's not an idiot. He can put together the correlation. But he's keeping it to himself. Instead, he lets out a tired little chuckle before asking, ]
In that regard, we are alike.
Were you the only survivor?
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Yeah. Last of a long line.
You?
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[ He's not even loathing the fact that he fuckin HATES Edelgard. ]
But for all intents and purposes, I am the last of the Blaiddyd line.
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Try this.
[He sets a plate of hot fried potatoes and cold beer in front of Dimitri]
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It's good, [ says the man who literally just confessed to being unable to taste things. ]
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[Trevor seems unbothered by this fact. He makes a plate for himself and sits opposite Dimitri, sinking into his usual grunts and silences]
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