"My mum cooked," Wes shrugged. "Every night. Of course Father ate first, and she and I were given the scraps. And then I went to the Academy and what they served there was most certainly not home cooked food." He shuddered at the memory of some of the slop he'd been made to eat in his youth.
"I almost prefer restaurant take away to cooking, in any case." But still, it might be nice to be able to cook something, if he wanted to.