“Are you okay with chopping vegetables?” When he nodded, I grabbed the small wire basket near the walk-in cooler door and gestured for him to follow me. I pulled the door open and cold air slapped me in the face. Goose bumps rose on my arms. The cooler was sized for a full ship and even with the extra food we’d bought, the shelves were more than half empty.

“Most of our vegetables are stored in here,” I said, “along with other perishables. Frozen food is through that door,” I said with a wave at the door on the back wall of the cooler. “You are welcome to eat anything we have in here, but if you finish something, add it to the list on the wall outside.”

I worked quickly, gathering the vegetables we’d need for lasagna while explaining what each one was to Torran, just in case they were unfamiliar. This recipe was vegetable heavy. Doubling it made it even heavier, and the basket’s handle dug into my palm. When I went to switch hands, Torran reached out and effortlessly plucked the basket from me.

“Allow me,” he said, oddly formal.

I glanced at him, but his face was set in its usual mask. “Thank you.” I made a mental note to do some research on Valovian food customs because something weird was going on, and he wasn’t being very forthcoming.

If Torran felt the strain of holding the heavy basket, he didn’t show it. I swiftly grabbed the last of the ingredients, then stared at the basket, trying to remember anything I’d forgotten. When nothing jumped out at me, I led Torran out of the walk-in.

“Put the basket there,” I said, pointing at the counter. I pulled out a cutting board and a chef’s knife, then placed them beside the basket. I also grabbed a big bowl.

Torran silently watched me, and his gaze missed nothing. I had no doubt that if I asked him to grab a knife, he’d know exactly which drawer to use.

“This should be enough to get you started. You’re welcome to look in any cabinet here, so if you need anything else, just dig around until you find it.” I made two stacks of vegetables. “Small cubes for the first stack and medium-thick slices for the second stack. They can all go in the same bowl.”

We worked in surprisingly comfortable silence—after I got over the fact that Torran was standing behind me armed with a knife. The rhythmic sound of the knife on the cutting board was the only thing that let me know he was there.