[Lumiére gives a little shrug of his not-shoulders. He could very easily angst about his potentially terminal inanimate-state, but where would that get him? Nowhere, that's where. ]

It is what it is, mon ami. I just try to make the best of it.

[After a decade of it, he's learned he hasn't really got much of a choice. He hops across to the cabinets, showing surprising dexterity for someone without feet- peering at the food replicator.]

I'm sure I saw something chicken flavoured on here. [Not real food, but it's not like he can REALLY cook anyway. ] Perhaps some Coq Au Vin?