[It's such a familiar position for him to see Aral take that Gregor involuntarily glances over at him. The tiny smile makes another brief reappearance. Some subtle tension likewise eases in him, too.

There's no actual bad blood between them, now or ever, so why is this so damnably hard? Onward and through, Gregor reminds himself.]

Oh, yes. Some kind soul took pity on Miles and myself and taught us enough so that we wouldn't starve. It's been... educational, being here. [But Gregor does not appear disgruntled in the least by that; on the contrary, to an observant eye he can be read as bemused, even fascinated, as he idly stirs stir fry in a pan.]