The display of culinary creation catches Nemeia's attention, if briefly. While there were few that that they would consider their contemporary, word had reached their ears about this one, most often in grumbled comparisons under breath. Of course, to address such suggestions would be to acknowledge them, and wanton acts of violence and destruction were off the table, so a simple hammer of disapproval flying by most often sufficed.
The patterns of swirling cosmos beneath their skin and across their hair pulsed in time with their thoughts a moment, before the figure leaned back into their chair, offering a telepathic beckoning.
"Greetings, professor. Join me, will you?" they inquired, reaching out mentally. They pair the inquiry with a raised hand holding up a glass, which they had understood to be an appropriate gesture for the sentiment.