Gadriel isn't afraid of anyone stealing his armor because not many people could even lift it, and without a Black Carapace, they wouldn't be able to operate it.

He's, well, not used to, but inured to being stared at when he's not in his armor. He has been told that his bodyglove was indecently snug, but Astartes really didn't have much of a concept of personal modesty at least about their own bodies. Because they were just gifts from the Emperor, a temporary vehicle.

He ducks his head, following her into the small space, watching her bustle around all this...stuff. It was warm at least. His mouth quirks in something like a smile. Home cooked. Right. "We eat combat rations, carefully engineered nutrients. Semi liquid." Think about gloop. Then think about bland gloop. Basically that.