Eliza Valdez poked the bowl of pasta cautiously with her fork. The menu stated this was in fact spaghetti bolognese, though the presentation left much to be desired. The noodles were rather watery and gooey as if they were left to cook for too long. The supposedly bolognese sauce on top wasn't making the ordeal any better. The meat reminded her of dog food or some other Synth Foods product that was popular for explorers of the Edge Worlds on a really tight budget. It looked way too dark and brown which likely indicated tomatoes or any synthetic imitation of them was clearly missing from this recipe. There also weren't any visible vegetables or other seasoning by the looks of it. Another horrifying detail caught her attention, the cherry or well - cheese on top of the bowl of spaghetti. It was hard to identify it at just a glance but it reminded her much more of mozzarella rather than of parmesan. It was just as watery looking as the rest of her pasta. The shivering thought that someone washed the whole dish before serving it to her passed through her head. A bit more water to it and it could almost pass for noodle soup. But this wasn't Kusari, and this wasn't ramen, it was supposed to be spaghetti bolognese!
Sadly just poking the pasta with a fork was not going to reveal the true extent of this culinary disaster even if visual examination was able to reveal more flaws than Eliza could ever imagine be in a bowl of bolognese. She stabbed the noodles with considerable reservation and slowly rolled it around her fork. The gooey spaghetti at first resisted by almost slipping away from the fork, but with enough persistence she managed to persevere and get a mouthful on her cutlery. Raising it to her eye level, Eliza took another close look at the pasta. The thought of having to consume this meal made Eliza regret leaving Malta at this very moment. She wanted to opt out of this experience, but at the same time her stomach was rumbling and this was supposedly the best this station had to offer her at the moment. Valdez let out a sigh of desperation and uttered a silent prayer before finally taking a taste of her spaghetti.
The texture. It was as liquid and gooey as it looked. And it was cold! Her facial expression shriveled like a hag that is being poisoned. Was this pasta cooked long ago and simply reheated? At this very moment the Maltese pilot could easily recall at least 3 instances of eating Synth Paste that was much more flavorful than this. And that was just in the last two months. There was no way this bowl of spaghetti was made sincerely. That or the cook needed to have his license torn to tiny pieces and his access to the kitchen permanently revoked. If Eliza had to describe this dish at this very moment, only two words could clearly come to her mind - culinary terrorism. She looked around her, there weren't many other people in the establishment. With a good reason, Eliza thought. Perhaps her being the new person here was the reason the Outcast didn't know better to not order anything and stick to synth paste or old and stale food rations.
Valdez took another stab at the gooey pasta and disgustedly rolled another mouthful around her fork. The sooner схе finished this bowl of spaghetti, the sooner she can put this traumatic experience behind her. A badge of heroism perhaps? It was psychological trick to try and motivate herself through this suffering, as if it was anything but such. And up into her mouth it went, inducing another wrinkling grimace from the cold and moist texture. Eliza looked down her bowl, she was down two bites of this nightmarish pasta, but there was plenty more of it left. But enough about the spaghetti, she was actually here to meet Damian Morretti.
Apparently thinking of who she was here to meet was a sufficient summons to prompt his sudden presence. "You going to eat that?" Perhaps it was shocking to her that he would actually ask this question, and without request joined her at the table and snatched up a spare utensil. Clearly he was intent on eating it, and had a less indulged palate as far as food went, Malta had its perks in that regard. The Xenos meanwhile made do with synth paste or whatever stale alternative could be provided if even that source of sustenance was lacking. As she no doubt spent a few moments comprehending the situation and considering whether or not to be revolted by the idea of someone eating this, he simply dug in and entitled himself to the meal she didn't seem to enjoy, let alone want for that matter.
Eliza stared at the man with pure unadulterated disgust. Attacking the Cardamine convoys, Rochester's near destruction, the Xenos' general stance against the Outcasts - all these she could shrug off, it was a dog eat dog world. But the way he was consuming the "spaghetti", if they can even be called such, was a much more clear indicator that she wasn't dealing with another human being, but rather a maddened beast that had lost any semblance of what it was to be human. Though telling that to Morreti, that man consuming her spaghetti, while she was on his station was probably not a good idea. If he was willing to consume this hellish pasta, there was no telling how far this sick man could go in his endeavors.
"Greed is the solution to our mutual Cardamine problem." she tried to get the man's attention as he seemed more preoccupied with the food spoils he liberated than with the Outcast standing across the table from him. "If you really want the orange powder that much just offer a price that the Junkers can not compete with. I'm sure if the price is good enough, the smugglers running it from Buffalo to Rochester would even figure out how to build a space elevator to get it all down to your little hideout on Pittsburgh." Eliza leaned back with a smirk and crossed her arms. "And maybe with the money you'll make from it all this place will be able to finally serve some real spaghetti?"
It felt like an eternity as the Outcast stood there waiting for a response from her uninvited table companion. But the man across from her just kept slurping through her bowl of spaghetti. Did he not hear what she had just said? Or perhaps he simply did not care enough to reply? Eliza couldn't really know, but she felt uneasy and this time it wasn't because of the horrific pasta at hand. The more she stared at him with narrowed eyebrows and eyes pointed like daggers, the more the subtle absurdity of the situation caused her unexplained distress. Her eyes darted across the room and she quickly realized there was nobody else with them. The lack of clientele was explainable, but where was the bartender, the waiter, anyone looking over the place for that matter? Was it really just her and that crazed animal in front, consuming that bowl of disgusting pasta like his very life depended on it? Something here was off and Eliza knew it. Problem was she just couldn't put her finger on it, not yet at least. Valdez's azure eyes focused back on the white haired man that was feasting on her unpleasantly soggy meal. He was still as unfazed by the meal and her attempt at a conversation. The Outcast could feel the needlessness of her presence, it was like if she wasn't right there, right then, nothing of value would have been lost from the picture in front of her. The snake would continue consuming that full bowl of a crime against the Italian cuisine. Wait... Full bowl? Eliza froze on the spot, her gaze locked on the pasta. A smirk stretched across her face as she closed her eyes and let out a sigh of relief. The feeling of dread was all gone now. Eliza realized none of this was real. And just like that, as soon as she knew she was dreaming, the very fabric of disbelief was shattered and her dream soon ended. Maybe that midnight snack she had before bed was a mistake after all.