[No worries, Prompto. Connor's next step is to turn and fetch a bowl of soup, spoon clinking lightly against its rim.]

You don't owe me anything. I'm glad to assist.

[Chicken noodle! You can't go wrong.]

I didn't, though. Someone else was kind enough to prepare a large batch of this beforehand; cooking isn't one of my pre-programmed skills, though I suppose I could take the time to learn in a case like this.

[He steps forward to offer the soup to Prompto.]