The Golden Cage

[Omi]

She was almost surprised to see how appetising the Maltese dishes looked. For some reason, part of her had been expecting some sort of thin gruel, or at the very least some poor imitation of upper-class cuisine. As the plates swished down towards the table, though, Charlotte found her prejudices being pleasantly swept aside. It couldn't match the sheer scale and breadth of choice she'd seen in many formal banquets back in Gallia, but what it lacked in choice it made up for in sheer uniqueness. She took from a plate heaped with seafood first - she couldn't quite tell, but it looked a little like crab - trying not to let her expression sour at Enma's question. She had a few choice words for the Maltese, or Outcasts, but it was probably best to stay neutral - or at least to try.

"I know that you are slavers. I know that your world is poisoned by a drug - a substance, if you will - called Cardamine. I know that your world is called Malta, and I know that you are one of Sirius's less populous peoples." Charlotte paused for a second, slicing a section of her crab cake off and spearing it with her fork. "I know that your pilots are renowned duelists and skirmishers, but that your industry is weak. And, now that it has come to it - I know your cuisine is something of renown. Something worth preserving for centuries to come." She had kept it simple deliberately, her expression finally making its way towards something resembling enjoyment. There was just a hint of it, but it was there nonetheless. That wasn't to say that Charlotte had let her guard down, but she was testing the new boundaries Enma seemed to be setting, tugging at the slack her chains had suddenly given her. Without breaking eye contact, she popped the mouthful of cake into her mouth and swallowed, seemingly anticipating some sort of detailed response.

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