Cain's just walking back to his quarters from an hour of washing dishes, which he hasn't had to do in... quite some time, let's say. He smells extremely strongly of diswashing soap and harsh chemicals, and his hands are all scrubbed pink. It's a late hour and he's mentally tired, which is why, when he sees Aleifr, his brain-to-mouth filter is a little more lax.

"Good God-Emperor, what do they feed you?" Cain remarks, staring up. Then winces slightly when he hears what comes out of his mouth, but it's a little late to retract that.