A non-picky eater. Bliss! Not that she blames those who have become vegetarians when confronted with the reality that their meat supply will by necessity come from animals that they hunt down and then butcher themselves. Not each of them individually, of course, but collectively. She respects the discomfort, and the changes it brings. Still, nice to have someone who isn't picky.

She takes her bag off of her shoulder and places it on a section of the counter that she's designated as a non-food-prep area. Mostly in her mind, though she's also made a small sign, which people are free to ignore, but she hasn't been disinfecting this spot. Then, out of cold storage, she pull the container with the already scrambled egg in it. "You could chop up some asparagus." It's going to be mushroom and asparagus, because it'll finish off the canisters of each that she's opened up, and he did say he wasn't picky. She gets him a knife, and a little bundle of the slightly limp green stalks, and then moves to heat a pan over a burner.