[Trying to play wingman to Gilgamesh is rather like trying to play wingman to a plane that's crashing to the ground nosefirst. Continually. And even when it manages to hit the ground it just keeps going and going anyway, and you just want to die already because you're all bloody and on fire, but the captain keeps insisting no, everyone, it's fine, he's totally got this, everything's completely under control...

You know, that sort of wingman.

Gilgamesh once more fails at reading the air and mistakes that aggravated body language for genuine gusto. He slaps her on the back with a hearty WAHAHAHAHAHA and shoots Adra a thumbs up, clearly approving of his plan. Which may as well have been his plan.

Yep. Totally his plan.]

I shall work up a sweat most admirable! Guide me well in this mysterious domain of the kitchen, so I may rule it accordingly in the name of the King!

[He's just seeing it as another territory to conquer... this man is truly hopeless.]