Oh, intriguing. A fancier picnic than she expected. She takes a seat at the very end of the bench, where she won't get in anyone's way, and peers curiously at the preparations.

Fib then pulls out a little golden butter knife and starts to construct some sandwiches, slicing up the bread, cheese, and fruit (which turn out to be concerningly meat-like on the inside, visually at least), before beckoning for the jam. "What do you want on yours?" He asks, both to Sniper and Groundskeeper.

"—What are those?" she asks, thoroughly distracted from the question of her preferences.

"Domesticated ugomemi. They're from the Rim. The wild-type's fruit are more properly worm-shaped and actually sort of crawl or squirm after they drop onto the ground. It lets them get further away from the parent tree, and attracts certain kinds of insectivorous flyers to eat them and spread the seeds even further. The mechs domesticated them a while ago since it's a safer source of protein than hunting actual animals." Fib explains, perhaps overmuch.

"...I see. But, um, those ones are not currently in any condition to wiggle? I hope?"

Fib shakes his head as he starts making a sandwich for Sniper, who has indicated which of the three available toppings (just cheese for the moment) they want. "The domesticated ones stopped wriggling entirely a few generations ago, and even before then, with how plump they get, they stop wriggling just a few minutes after they drop."

"...I think perhaps I will also just have the cheese." Oh no, was that rude? She hopes it wasn't rude.

"It's usually not eaten raw," Sniper clarifies. "He is a little strange,"

Fib shrugs with a grin, then hands the cheese sandwich he was just making to Groundskeeper rather than Sniper while sticking his tongue out playfully at the other. Then he starts making another.

"...well. Who among us is not a little strange."

She hesitates, glancing at Sniper to try to figure out whether they're going to object to her stealing their sandwich, then concludes that it is also rude to just sit here holding it and gives it a tentative nibble. It's all right.

Indeed, Sniper makes no move for her sandwich, and accepts the next one Fib makes instead.

They are not great sandwiches, to be fair. But certainly edible. The bread's a little strange as well, certainly it's not made from bleached wheat flour or anything. The cheese isn't exactly like cream cheese, though that's the closest thing texture-wise. The flavor difference is hard to pin down, mostly a difference in the subtler aromas and flavor-elements, since the primary sensation is still mostly just 'creamy'. It's maybe just a little sweeter than one might expect, but now beyond the normal range for cream cheese.

Fib certainly seems to be enjoying his own sandwich. Sniper is a bit less exuberant about it, but doesn't seem to be unhappy eating here in a park on a (relatively, given Fib's influence on the vibe) peaceful night.

"I suppose given the time difference I probably can't supply you all with jam indefinitely. ...I might be able to supply winebark clothes? I've gotten pretty decent at making them, and they're very durable. I don't know if you consider yourselves especially in need of leather jackets though. Oh, and bags, I'm all right at making bags too."

Fib swallows his current mouthful of sandwich before replying. "I think we're good on clothing, unless something's happened in the last-" he mimes checking a watch that he does not have, "several hours, Rim-time. More bags is always good though! Anything in particular you'd like from me in return? I can make orichalcum and desert glass, I can deliver packages for you, I can take you to any of the worlds I'm connected to, that sort of thing."

"...hmm... how hard was it for you to get those bicycles? I think it would be really nice to have a bicycle, to get around the Academy faster with. What, um, what are orichalcum and desert glass?"

"Orichalcum's this gold stuff, and desert glass's the pink glass. Orichalcum's real tough, but I can mold it like clay sort of. Glass isn't quite as strong but I can make it be soft or flexible if I want it to be. The bikes took I think about an hour of prayer each for the orichalcum, and then probably another two or three hours each with the mechs guiding me through sculpting them into the right shape and then making all the compliant parts out of desert glass. So I guess being generous maybe five hours of work? Plus the time spent gathering sand, but I grab a bunch of that whenever I'm in the Pink Desert anyway so it's no big deal."

"Hmm, that's not too bad then, probably? I should go home and sleep soon anyway, so you'll have lots and lots of time to make another one. And I can trade you plenty of winebark bags. Any particular requests? The bag I gave you the jam in is a style I have plenty of but it's a bit small; it sounds like your lifestyle might be more suited to big camping backpacks."

"Big, with pockets and sections, is best," Sniper offers.

"Yeah! Though, even with small bags, we can probably string them together or something," Fib adds, kind of half-heartedly.

"I do also make big camping backpacks. I can bring what I have and make more. After I sleep." She stifles a yawn.

Fib and Sniper won't keep the conversation going for too much longer (despite an evident desire to do so, on Fib's part). They'll finishes their sandwiches in (hopefully) companionable quiet, enjoying the sounds of the Academy's night-time atmosphere (modulo the influence of Fib's somewhat overpowering aura).

When the eating's done and everything's packed back up, Fib will wave goodbye to Groundskeeper and give her the parting words, "See you in, like, a couple weeks!"

"Or one night's sleep, as the case may be!"

She waves goodbye and begins meditating back to her Bevin.

Fib and Sniper get back onto their bikes and start moving, and once they're going at a decent speed, the two of them disappear along with their vehicles.