Shen Qingqiu nods back, accepting the silence as an answer for now. He's disappointed, but not enough to press—Galahad is too fragile for that, and this might be gossip he can get from other sources. Claudius might even tell him himself, he seems free enough with his tongue.¹

"Well," he says instead. "I'm not—exactly an expert in apologies. Ours worked, but I think it was more due to luck than anything else. And I'm not sure I would advise trying with food, unless your memories are filled with expert cooking lessons that have now all flooded back to you."

¹Pun intended.