Maako's eyes watched her wipe away the mustard he'd gotten in his hands. He was grateful for that since while he liked the taste of it, the very scent of mustard seemed to make his eyes water. He made a soft noise, almost akin to a whine as he let her guide him to the table. The sunlight wasn't appreciated but he made no argument. After what he just did, he was lucky she didn't just kick him out.
What seemed to bother him most though, was not quite her reaction, but the very words she spoke, as if that he had no potential to understand that what he did was wrong. It didn't seem as if it was done to patronize him however, and he could appreciate her concern.
It didn't make him any less sorry. And at least her concern wasn't followed by an awful branding to his back.
He sat down and brought his legs up to have his heels hook at the edge of the seat, wrapping his upper arms around his knees and resting his chin against them. "Far away from here," he murmured. "In your odd tongue, the name is hard to say. There's no word for it. It is a warm, tepid place, deep and dark, like a cave, but with soul-lights. I never asked what they were made of."
Maako looked over to her, laying his head further out on his knees. "I was made to please Master. I was my master's favorite. His pet. He cared for me when he wanted me. And when I displeased him I was punished. I suppose your tongue would call that a lover, yes?"
His free hand idly took a sandwich and brought it to his mouth, munching lightly. "Is that what startled you? Did you think I was trying to please you as I had sought to do with my master?"
