[ Adora snorts at the end of all joy. The starting phrase is unfamiliar, but the game itself isn't; not too far from the sort of thing her and Catra came up with to amuse themselves back in the Horde. (Only, their answers usually consisted of 'smog', 'guards', or, in Catra's case, 'a blonde idiot'.) ]

It's not that bad. [ Then, upon a second glance at the food in front of her, she grimaces. ] Okay, so maybe it is that bad. But uh, what's up with the tiny tree? Should we be eating this, or planting it?

[ She holds up the wilting broccoli between two fingers, her eyebrows scrunched in confusion. Bright Moon had salads, but she's never seen anything that just looked like a sad bush. ]