A favor? [His brows climb slightly, pausing before he can take another drink, setting it down instead.] Hardly. I would be honored to share.
[The expression on his face still has Jeremiah feeling caught by surprise. He's spent more than enough time in Lelouch's company to pin most of his unmasked emotions as they show themselves. His usual prideful sneer with which he faces the inferior world around him suits him well, befits someone of his caliber, in Jeremiah's ever-biased opinion. But these sorts of smiles always seem to look a wholly different kind of natural on his features, in a way he still can't put his finger on.
He doesn't linger on it for long, pausing mostly to think on where to begin.]
I'm reminded of them by some of the cuisine here, its similarity to what you find in eastern Europe. [Jeremiah settles a little further back, tucking his elbows comfortably on the wrought metal arms of his seat, fingers laced.] The House of Gottwald originated in Germany before fleeing to Britannia, but my mother's ancestry mostly lies across the Balkans.
These weren't things that mattered greatly to my parents, because like many of the nobility, they saw their foregone European roots as proving little. What mattered was the glory with which they continued their lines and served the empire. But one of my uncles on her side had a passion for the food. Any time we visited he and my aunt would plan an elaborate meal, no matter the occasion. When they entertained proper, the buffet tables were always the showpiece at any gathering they held, certainly a more international spread than I was accustomed to at home. But he liked to serve family recipes for the family most, alongside more contemporary Britannian staples. Mother didn't care for it much, but my sister and I certainly did.
no subject
[The expression on his face still has Jeremiah feeling caught by surprise. He's spent more than enough time in Lelouch's company to pin most of his unmasked emotions as they show themselves. His usual prideful sneer with which he faces the inferior world around him suits him well, befits someone of his caliber, in Jeremiah's ever-biased opinion. But these sorts of smiles always seem to look a wholly different kind of natural on his features, in a way he still can't put his finger on.
He doesn't linger on it for long, pausing mostly to think on where to begin.]
I'm reminded of them by some of the cuisine here, its similarity to what you find in eastern Europe. [Jeremiah settles a little further back, tucking his elbows comfortably on the wrought metal arms of his seat, fingers laced.] The House of Gottwald originated in Germany before fleeing to Britannia, but my mother's ancestry mostly lies across the Balkans.
These weren't things that mattered greatly to my parents, because like many of the nobility, they saw their foregone European roots as proving little. What mattered was the glory with which they continued their lines and served the empire. But one of my uncles on her side had a passion for the food. Any time we visited he and my aunt would plan an elaborate meal, no matter the occasion. When they entertained proper, the buffet tables were always the showpiece at any gathering they held, certainly a more international spread than I was accustomed to at home. But he liked to serve family recipes for the family most, alongside more contemporary Britannian staples. Mother didn't care for it much, but my sister and I certainly did.