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CHARACTERS: Severus Snape and anyone foolish enough to approach him.
LOCATION: The kitchen closest to his room.
WARNINGS: General arseholery.
SUMMARY: Someone is hungry. And curious as well, but hungry first.

According to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration, 'food cannot be outright created from nothing, it can be multiplied if one already has some food to multiply, it can also be enlarged by using the Engorgement Charm, or it can be summoned if one knows the rough location and is fairly sure the food will still be there,' and it was with that last bit in mind that Snape eventually ventured forth from his room, purposefully but cautiously; his wand easily accessible tucked up inside his sleeve and his black eyes darting side-to-side, taking everything in. He'd heard a few disconcerting transmissions over the comm device recently and he wasn't taking any chances (not that he ever did, in any event). Once he found the source of the food, then magical room service might be a preferable option in the future, depending on (potentially life-threatening) circumstances, what kind of people he encountered and whether or not he wished to see them on a regular basis. He was not especially optimistic regarding that.

All in all, he didn't look too bad for a man who had just recently almost bled to death, now that the shock of that, plus waking up on a spaceship had leveled out to some extent. His hair didn't even appear to be quite as greasy and lank as usual—perhaps stasis fluid had hitherto unknown conditioning properties? Which will be a plus if he has to endure it on a regular basis (not that he was actively considering or appreciating that prospect, or its apparent follicle-enhancing results). His new clothing however, was not much of an improvement on his old. While a form-fitting black jumpsuit might actually be sexy on a lot of people, Snape managed to look just as severe and clerical as he did in his wizard-slash-academic robes (although decidedly less bat-like), but then it's entirely possible that he could make a pink tutu look severe and clerical, such was the power of his demeanor. If he had a preference, he'd much rather be wearing his usual robes, but alas, clothing is another one of those exceptions to Gamp's Law, so presumably he'll have to wait until such time as he can procure something suitable in the regular fashion (although he doubted very much that he'd find a shop, even on a ship purported to be as large as this one). But it was just as well, as he had no desire currently to look at all conspicuous.

It did not prove especially difficult to find a kitchen, nor did there seem to be any obstacles to helping one's self to the necessary supplies and preparing a meal: there was fresh food in the refrigerator, dried or tinned food in the cupboards, along with pans, plates, utensils and a stove to cook it upon. The only thing missing, being an actual cook. It's not as though food preparation the muggle way (or the magical way for that matter) was a complete mystery to Snape, but it was certainly a skill he didn't practice often; having had his food prepared for him by house elves ten months out of the year and when on summer holiday, grabbing takeaway, dining out, or at home attempting nothing more complicated than boiled eggs and porridge.

After spending a moment assessing his options (Fruit? Salad? Please.) he settled for familiarity—there was a box of oats and there was milk, so porridge it would be. Which should not for a minute be viewed as him needing comfort food. It was merely easy.

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He took that as a cue that she was apparently capable of fending for herself and began to eat while it was still hot, because porridge wasn't the most appetizing food to begin with, but when it became cold, it was rather revolting.

"I do," he replied after a mouthful or two. "Do I take it you'd like to know what it is?" Which could be taken as a provocative answer, if not for the fact that it was coming from Snape, who didn't have a flirtatious bone in his body.

"Very much," she murmured, peering into various cabinets and whatnot before finally glancing in his general direction.

"Names are important, each as distinct as their owner." She tilted her head at him, reaching out to pick up a loaf of bread, pulling it open. "Doesn't matter if there's repetitions, we all put a...unique spin on them, regardless."

In the magical world, knowing a person's name gave one a certain amount of power over them, so if someone seemed awfully eager to know his, it gave him pause. He studied her for a moment without picking up any surface signs of magical ability on her part, eventually relenting enough to give her at least part of it.

"Snape. And yours?"

She smiled as she slid two pieces of bread into the toaster before rummaging for something to put between them. Meat, jelly, peanut butter – anything was better than just bread.

She had a fondness for strawberries. It had been so long since she’d had a strawberry…

“Caprica.” She left off the Six portion and paused in her task to turn, holding her hand out. “It’s a pleasure, Snape.”

Looking up from his food again to eye her outstretched hand only slightly narrowly, Snape took it in his briefly, accompanied by an even briefer nod of his head.

"Likewise." For the moment, at least.

Body language says a lot about a person, Caprica has found. The slightest tick can tell you worlds about their personality. She’s very intently reading him, head tilted just slightly, before she withdraws her hand.

“Indeed.” Back to hunting down supplement to bread.

“Have you been on the ship long?”

Snape didn't fail to notice the scrutiny—tit for tat, he supposed, although he was getting the impression that she was attempting to look more deeply into him than he had with her. Good luck with that he thought, presenting a nigh on impenetrable countenance.

"No, I'm a... recent arrival. Although no-one, it would appear, has been here longer than a few months, save the two crew members that never have been seen." And possibly don't even exist.

Peanut butter -- hm. Went well enough on toast, but not really what she'd been in the mood for. It'd do, though.

"As am I." She located a knife and plate, and glanced over her shoulder, crooking a smile. "I came in with the last group. My -- sister is here. It's good to have her here."

That gives her pause, though, eyes crinkling a little in mild distress as she uncapped the peanut butter.

"I've heard the crew has thus far been invisible. I assume the possibility they don't even exist has been entertained...?"

One of the conveniences of porridge as food was that it could be dispensed with fairly quickly, as there was no work to speak of with regard to the actual process of eating: spoon it into one's mouth and swallow, without all the bother of cutting and chewing that accompanies something more solid. Consequently, he was finished with his meal before she'd even started hers.

Touching a napkin lightly to his lips, he gave that query a moment of serious consideration minus the sarcasm that had accompanied his previous remark. "I don't know that it has. People seem frustrated by the lack of communication or physical presence, but few appear to be questioning their actual existence. Personally, I don't think the notion is far-fetched. Presumably the ship could be running on—" It took him a moment to think of the muggle expression. "—auto-pilot."

“Auto-pilot.”

She lets this marinate in her mind as she drops her toast onto her plate and takes a seat across from him.

“What about sentience? Perhaps the ship has a mind of its own.” She gives him a knowing little smile – like it’s some kind of secret shared between friends, but there’s a glint in her eyes that denotes the fact that she’s actually serious.

A sentient machine. That was not really something he was apt to give much credence to himself, as machines in general did not figure too highly into his calculations, much less living ones. Sentient objects, such as the Sorting Hat and the various stone gargoyles at Hogwarts were a different story, but they of course were enchanted.

However, the woman before him looked entirely serious, despite her smile and he was fractionally disposed to admit that she might know more about it than he did.

"Have you any reason to believe that might indeed be the case?"

“I might.” The smile curves up, just a fraction. “Where I’m from, a sentient machine is more than just a possibility.” She leans back and crosses her legs, toast forgotten for the moment. “It’s completely the case. We happen to be at war with them. They…destroyed the twelve colonies. Obliterated the entire human race, save for…a few shy of fifty-thousand people.” Her face flickers, and she looks haunted for a moment, but it clears, and she looks directly at him.

“They’ve been relentlessly chasing us around the galaxy.”

Says the cylon.

Were he back at home, a statement of this sort would have earned more than a few derisive snorts from him—but here, in the light of this cold, new and completely unknown reality, he was finding it hard to be as dismissive.

An eyebrow twitched upwards as he considered the possible implications of this revelation. "Are you saying then, that this situation is part of that war?"

“Not precisely.” She gives a quick shake of her head. “There are too many inconsistencies with the people that have arrived here.” From what Natalie had informed her, Caprica herself and her ‘sister’ were from completely different times, period.

“I suppose it’s a possibility, but I don’t want to rule out that the ship itself might have an agenda.”

"No, even from my perspective, that seems fairly unlikely, as humans are certainly not the only species being abducted." Snape rose from the table, clearing his dirty dishes away into the sink before turning his head back, eyebrow arching higher.

"Well now, isn't that a cheerful thought," he added wryly. Considering how dependent they currently were on the ship for their very survival.

"No, they certainly aren't." Herself being one such nonhuman. "Seems like there's been a good number of beings pulled. I admit, where I come from, there are no other beings besides humans, and their creations." Cylons.

"It isn't one you should dismiss," she said with a small, knowing little smile. She pulled her toast closer, and dragged a finger along the peanut butter on top before licking it clean. "Something to ponder."

Truth be told, he was beginning to feel ever-so-slightly disconcerted by that secretive little smile. Disconcerted, but at the same time intrigued—which had more to do with the approachable self-assurance combined with a certain air of mystery she was projecting, than it had to do with the way she was currently licking peanut butter from her finger.

Although, as he was a heterosexual male and Caprica was an attractive female (so he thought), that act certainly didn't escape his attention. And apparently she was reading him a bit better than he was reading her, which might have been somewhat irksome if not for the aforementioned manner of peanut butter consumption.

Clearing his throat slightly, Snape gave her a quick look of acquiescence before turning to depart. "Just so," he murmured, still more than a little bit suspicious of why she seemed interested in him. If she was. Possibly he was reading too much into it.

The smile stayed firmly in place as her eyes raked over him, making no attempt to hide the interested expression on her face as he turned to go. He was intriguing – and something about him immediately pinged Caprica, though what it was, precisely, she wasn’t sure. She had a penchant for intelligent men, ones that were slightly…arrogant about said intelligence despite her own overall brilliance.

The interest is there – no question.

“It was a pleasure, Snape,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “Perhaps I’ll see you again in the near future.”

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WHOA sorry this took so long.

It's ok!

<3

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