“Man,” Absinthe sighs at the reminder that selfcare is something she needs to put effort into, having crawled out of the Faerunian countryside less than a year ago into the big city. “I’ll look into it.”

Ignis’ demonstration is a welcome distraction from the talk of claw care. Absinthe doesn’t comment on his proficiency- it’s unsurprising to her that he would be practiced, and she’s doing the same by coming here as well. By the time Ignis is done she lets out a hum of recognition now that the onions have been chopped into the form she recognises in her food. “Aaah. I didn’t realise these were onions as well. Yeah, let me try!”

Absinthe holds up her dagger (it’s fineeee, she hasn’t used it to stab anything recently) and wipes it on a cloth before reaching out to slide the onion and cutting board over. She’s a quick learner when applying herself- the problem is applying herself- so, having paid attention to Ignis’ hand placement and the size of the cut onions, she begins imitating his motions with curled fingers in one hand and chopping knife in the other.