"It actually feels more normal than the gardens," he observes, slightly surprised at his own observation. Just sitting in this place like a diner, vaguely reminiscent of dingy after-hours coffee shops and brighter, hipper teahouses, seems real in a way that endless hallways and worry over airlocking and jump drives can't. The gardens are fine, he supposes, but the permanent summery weather irks him. A fork happens. The pie is pretty good. Severus makes a 'hm' noise, which apparently means whomever bakes these may live.