A. Glass? Nehzgal tils her head at Shermih and projects confusion. Water is still dripping off her face and she absently licks it up with a long tendril of a tongue. What did glass have to do with anything? In her mothers nest, some water was kept in large basins, but those were stone or chitin, not glass.
Ah, okay. Shermih pulls a glass out of one of the cabinets and shows her, filling it up and drinking it down before offering a second glass to Nehzgal. "You use it like this, so you do not get yourself all wet while drinking." Getting wet was being in the bath, which was probably something they'd have to work up to a little more uh, slowly. Shermih remembers her own first experience with the concept of a 'bath house' still rather well, and how long she had prefered the cold shower of her own room to that, just because it meant she'd be alone.
Nehzgal tilts her head, then tries to take to glass. Unfortunately, slick glass and thrall claws are a complicated mix, and it slides out of her hand and smashed on the floor. Nehzgal jumps, then hisses at the noise and the wetness, then tries to hide behind some cabinets
Oh no! Shermih jumps back in surprise, but settles again quickly. Dropping things in the kitchen isn't unheard off. "Hold still, you'll step on glass otherwise." She is pretty careful where she steps herself, on the way to retrieve a litte broom and shovel to sweep the glass up. It's well enough to be recycled, so it shall be. 'Waste not want not' is a common sentiment out in the Reef and thus also the Enclave. The water will dry easily enouh on the hewn rock floor. She looks at Nehzgal ever so often, checking if the little thrallion is still in the kitchen or clambered up the walls or some such. "There, see? All good don't worry about it. Did you get hurt?"
The little thrallion has squished herself into the gap between a cabinet and the wall where brooms are kept. She peers out at Shermih, then sends her an impression asking just how holding onto slippery snakey glass is better than just drinking the flowing water? Water, Nehzgal points out, does not usually break into shards.
"Usually it's not so slippery." Perhaps a cup or something with a handle would have worked better, that's true though. So she gets one of those, a big mug, seized to Eliksni hans and thus with handles more than capable of sitting thrallion claws. Provided of course that Nehzgal can grab much of anything considering how she's squished herself in that crevice. "Try this one?" Tough this time around, Shermih does keep her hands hovering underneath the mug. Just in case.
The mug is eyes with suspicion. But it does have handles. Nehzgal creeps up on it carefully, in case it decides to also make a loud noise. When this fails to occur, she carefully slides her fingers into the handles and laps at the water.
