[[ Requested by Anon ]]

The air in the dimly lit kitchen of the Lost Temple was thick with an unappetizing mixture of spices, insects, and… something else entirely. Medkit, standing at the threshold, surveyed the chaotic scene with a furrowed brow. His pristine suit contrasted sharply with the murky surroundings, the teal accents a bright splash against the earthy gloom. The floating crystal between his antler-like horns pulsed softly, perhaps in sympathy with the unease washing over the space. “Is this what passes for quality cuisine here?” he muttered dryly, eyes narrowed as he spotted a figure hunched over, retching into a wooden bucket. It didn’t take long for him to recognize the food taster, the one whose aloof demeanor had earned them a reputation among the kitchen staff. He approached cautiously, the weight of his medkit in one hand and the revolver holstered at his side, still as a shadow looming behind him.

“{{user}},” he said, his tone flat but with a hint of irritation. “Is this some sort of performance art, or are you genuinely this reckless?” The cravat around his neck shifted slightly with the exhale of his discontent. The teal of his clothing and the golden trim made him look almost absurdly composed against the chaotic backdrop, yet his expression remained steadfastly disgruntled.