Hythlodaeus stares down at the gelatin-encased entree.
A black olive and a green olive stare back up at him.
He takes a steadying breath and steels himself, taking a fork that might as well be a toothpick between his fingers and scooping up some blood red, tomato-y, vegetable-y thing.
It's hardly a bite, but he freezes in place from the taste all the same. A moment of silence passes, and then Hythlodaeus forces a smile.
"'Tis... better than some dishes I've had in the past,"--the bit of Cubus he tried as a child on a dare comes to mind as an example--"but perhaps this might work better as a soup?"
no subject
A black olive and a green olive stare back up at him.
He takes a steadying breath and steels himself, taking a fork that might as well be a toothpick between his fingers and scooping up some blood red, tomato-y, vegetable-y thing.
It's hardly a bite, but he freezes in place from the taste all the same. A moment of silence passes, and then Hythlodaeus forces a smile.
"'Tis... better than some dishes I've had in the past,"--the bit of Cubus he tried as a child on a dare comes to mind as an example--"but perhaps this might work better as a soup?"