Corvesse made sure he had washed up properly before heading for what he would call a breaking of fast, while it was probably lunch for the rest of the crew. He had also changed – his flight suit was a walking core culture – and was therein wearing about as little and as thin of clothes as possible, despite walking through the cooler, outer levels of the ship.
Which was the exact opposite of Patterson, who spent no time near the engines and, if filtration was particularly horrible on a ship, was essentially allergic to all the heat sources. He wore the most possible layers at all times. Patterson was also the opposite of Corvesse in the respects that he was paying attention to where he was going and Corvesse was playing with his hair.
"<Basically a paragraph in French from Patterson>"
"Uhhhh. Ça va?"
A roar of laughter barraged the entire ship from the kitchen.
Between the blush and the massive, bashful grin on his face, Corvesse was a picture of embarrassment. Hands up in surrender, he took a step back and skirted around Patterson, and into the kitchen without turning away from the machinist.
Captain Song was still laughing boisterously, having almost spat her cereal across the table.
"What?" Patterson turned around to the room he had tried to leave multiple times now.
“Monsieur knows scant."
Corvesse cleared his throat, keeping himself turned away and busying with some form of sustenance. "I, uh, caught half of what you said."
"And understood even less," the captain chuckled. She stuck her tongue out when he tried to wave her off, returning to her cereal which, admittedly, wasn't much of a lunch food.
Having compiled the bare beginnings of a meal, Corvesse checked over his shoulder that the barely visible man was still there in his layers upon layers. "I learned engines in th– an army. Aside from my certification," which the captain was pretty sure had expired years ago, "I apprenticed on a cruiser and two stations before getting hired on a ship." He grabbed the apple he was pretty sure Niamh had no hand in making and turned around for the table, finding Patterson still in the doorway. "What?"
"I... uhm..." Patterson didn't know. He was having a hard time understanding the entire situation and was maybe busy rewriting every thought he had compiled about the mechanic. The man had spent time in a military establishment, didn't actually know French – or wasn't fluent at least – and listened to early century French music. And since Patterson wasn't succumbing to an allergic reaction from colliding with the man, he had to draw the conclusion that Corvesse had considered him well enough to clean up after leaving the engine room. Also, "That's a rather... conventional way to become a mechanic."
Corvesse didn't so much sit in a chair as sink down the seat in a lewd display of haphazardly placed limbs. He smiled against his acquired apple in what could be considered another indecent presentation. "Why? Did you go to school for machinistry?"
"Ah, no." That was a common question, though Patterson didn’t look like or necessarily strike one as the standard machinist student. "I have a Doctorate in Theoretical Industrial Technology."
Soo-Hee dropped her spoon.
"Was that not on my CV?"
Corvesse munched happily on his apple, grinning. "That's a rather, unconventional way to become a machinist," he returned, his face pure joy at the continued sputtering from the captain.
Patterson just smiled. And he just smiled at Corvesse, because Corvesse knew where Patterson was going, what he was planning on doing with Engineering and Theoretical Industrial Technology, with being a machinist. He knew exactly what Patterson would do and, while he didn't necessarily feel the need to have a hand in it, he was utterly delighted it was going to happen.
Also, he had managed to get Corvesse to forget how remarkably embarrassed he had been.