She picks up on this fact and takes more, though a little uncomfortable at walking the line between just enough and too much that she seems greedy.

He's made more than both of them could eat even if both of them were at peak human food needs, and other than making sure she gets some amount of 'enough' doesn't seem very concerned about the food's existence.

She figures, now that she's some what human, she should actually speak to the guy.

"Good morning."

"Good morning," he mumbles back.

"Dishes?"

She means 'would you like me to do the dishes' but full sentences are, apparently, beyond her.

"Ah - if you'd like to help - but you're my guest, so I can handle it - "

"I like helping."

"Oh, okay - "

He directs her towards the kitchen, carrying his own cleaned plates in, and explains where all the dish washing implements are.

She silently sets to work, cleaning with vigour and precision.

He doesn't really talk while they're cleaning, but does yawn a few times.

This suits her just fine, and once she's done with dishes, she moves on to cleaning the whole kitchen spotlessly, cupboards, benches, everything, in an almost robotic manner.

"Thanks," he mumbles. "You don't gotta clean all that, though..."

"Hmm? Oh, it's... Sorry, habit. Miss Lucille thought enforcing perfection would help rehabilitate us."

"Weird. Not much perfection, out here."

She smugly replies. "Good."

Chuckle. "Drives some people crazy, but... I don't mind it."

"I've always found myself not quite so inclined to perfection, so it suits me just fine." 

Smile. "Well, hopefully you'll get along great here."

"That's the hope. Well, if you need anything else, just give me a shout, alright?" 

"Sure. Same to you."

She salutes as she leaves the room, wandering through the house, nothing really to do for the moment, and not quite interested enough to leave the house.

The house doesn't seem to have a lot of modern amenities. It's old, and creaky, and the hallways don't entirely behave, nor seem to have a coherent floor plan that matches their geometry. There's mirrors that show a rippling world, and portraits that seem more like windows into a painted world.

The mirrors and portraits garner her attention most, they're... Entrancing to her, she wants to reach out and caress these things she's seeing.

The portraits move, a little, if she spends a while studying one then looks away.

After some time entranced she does look away, intending to move on, but the tiny movement catches the corner of her vision and her head snaps back. Even more curious now, she tentatively reaches up, her hand moving closer and closer, and she is soon inches away from touching the nearest portrait.