Rasmus didn't have a high bar to reach when it came to Peisinoê's social expectations. She really only had three modes in social situations, and one was a slight variation of the other. The casual, comfy self she presented in study groups, with her sister, and her few close friends. Her real self, dry, sarcastic and gushing with what she had been told were 'niche passions'. Then there was the more polite, stiff and formal version of herself she tried to bring out when her parents were around and their ilk. Ultra feminine, polite, rooted and chained to social mores like she was expected to be.
That mask crumbled under pressure and impatience, however. As did her cheery nurse persona. Peisinoê was working on it, alright?
"It's not what you say, it's how you say it." Oh no, she sounded like her tutor. The thought was enough for her to pause again, face transforming into a look of self-righteous indignation for a moment before shaking her head. It was easier to focus on the mice than subconsciously turning into the people who had made her adolescence awful, "No, I'm running experiments on genetic modification. How well I can manipulate DNA, by the fifth generation I want them to be able to survive things like anthrax, radioactive waste, that sort of thing. But my timeline may be a little ambitious." It was probably also partially the instability that came with combining science and magic from multiple sources.
To her own surprise, she gave the food comment a moment of thought but her private brainstorming was interrupted by his reaction. Insecure she may be, but that didn't stop her from giving him a triumphant grin as she leaned back. "Mr. Rune. I would eat healthy right up until my last day so I wouldn't be miserable. Like you."
She reached out to make her point, pressing just so in his stomach where she knew it would hurt. It was just as she suspected, he was certainly not dying of anything. Just unhealthy and probably tense, anxiety did the stomach no favors. Trust her on that.
A deep sigh as she closed her eyes for a moment, clearly summoning her patience, "Mr. Rune, I have not performed last rites in several years, and you will not be breaking my streak, I assure you." Somehow, halfway through the sentence, she had switched from humoring him to more solemn and serious. Memories, probably. That, and the eye contact. Peisinoê cleared her throat as she turned to make a few more notes in his file, "I recommend tea, more water in general, more fiber, walking perhaps, green veggies - or whatever the primary part of your diet is supposed to be." For all she knew his species, like her's, was still adjusting to a drastically different diet in this new world.