His face lights up with genuine enthusiasm, and I feel that dangerous flutter again. Intelligence combined with passion creates a particularly appealing combination, especially when delivered with formal vocabulary and obvious respect for cultural preservation.
"This is really cool, Ursak. Are you planning to publish these recipes?"
"Eventually, perhaps. Academic interest in orcish domestic culture remains limited, but food represents accessible entry point for broader cultural understanding."
"Food diplomacy."
"An excellent phrase. May I borrow it?"
"Consider it a gift."
He smiles, and the hallway feels suddenly smaller. Not claustrophobic, but intimate, and it makes me hyperaware of personal space and the fact that I'm standing in my doorway wearing coffee-stained clothes while he maintains his usual composed presentation.
"I should let you return to your cooking," he says, glancing past me toward the kitchen. "Something smells quite appealing."
"Vegan stew. Experimental batch."
"Ambitious undertaking."
"Not really. Just lentils and root vegetables and hoping for the best."
"In orcish cooking, hope is considered an essential ingredient."
"That's either very wise or complete nonsense."
"Perhaps both."
We stand in silence for a moment while my brain processes the fact that we're having another unexpectedly engaging conversation about food and culture and language precision. The kind of conversation I could continue for hours if social protocols didn't require eventual conclusion.
"I appreciate your linguistic assistance," Ursak says. "Your suggestions will improve accessibility without compromising authenticity."
"Happy to help. Translation work is trickier than people think."
"Indeed. Cultural nuance often resists direct conversion."
"Exactly. You lose something in translation, but you also sometimes find new meanings."
"New meanings through cultural intersection."
"Food diplomacy in action."
He nods thoughtfully, then glances again toward my kitchen.
"I hope your experimental stew proves successful."
"Me too. I may have gotten a little ambitious with the seasoning."
"Ambition in cooking often yields unexpected discoveries."
"Or complete disasters."
"Those teach valuable lessons."
"Very philosophical approach to potential culinary failure."
"Failure provides education that success cannot offer."
I find myself smiling at his earnest delivery of what amounts to fortune cookie wisdom, except it doesn't feel trite coming from someone who clearly considers his words carefully before speaking.
