There's a stack of knives and forks in the middle of the table, but Shrieky doesn't bother with them. Instead, he breaks off a morsel of the nut roast with his fingers, and pops it in his mouth. Yes, table manners are subjective.

"What kind of things do you bake?" He breaks off some more of his nut roast, tilting his head speculatively, "There used to be someone on our cohort, who baked things. He made a souffle, and flan. He disappeared a little while ago though."