Share a meal with the character above you IC

" here just take zit " the french spy gave the crepe to Arai " I wasn't zat hungry anyway... " Vladimir looked out into the dormant battlefield his eyes struggling to stay open due to having pulled a all nighter  " why are you-" arai was giving half the crepe to Vladimir  " oh... merci " 

They both sat in silence eating crepes 

"We don't really have many spies wanting to come over here to South Corner, to be quite frank with you," Sanguine said as he cut into his steak, "I'm more used to rich business-people like myself hanging around. Not that it's a bad thing you're here, of course! I like cooking, eating, and learning about other people. We can kill three birds with a single stone, if you'd like? Or just the former two." He took a few moments to take a massive bite out of his steak, then once he was done chewing, asked, "So, let's start with the easier questions. What made you decide to become a spy? Was it just out of an interest in that sort of thing, or was it something different that made you want to blaze that kind of path? You don't have to answer that in detail, of course. Or at all."

Sanguine leaned back, once again turning more of his focus to his food as he took another large chunk out of his steak. After that was done with, he asked, "Oh, and how's your dinner? My brother-in-law and I made it together. And he got his own nice meal as well, too, of course."

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Sanguine will literally eat any even remotely edible food you put in front of him. He overeats very, very often. Go ham.

Bruno smiled warmly as he plunked the cauldron on the table, shaking the entire snug kitchen as hanging utensils clattered together. "Would you mind telling me who you are again?" he asked, ladling the thick stew into Sanguine's bowl. Hearty meat and vegetables filled the portion to the top. 

"Pardon, but a billionaire? Did I hear you right?" Bruno repeated, settling in the seat across from Sanguine. "Well, I'm not sure what business a man like you has with a man like me, to be honest." He paused to lift the bowl to his mouth and take a thoughtful sip. "I mean, I don't even run my mentor's shop yet, I'm just an apprentice. Unless... you don't mean to tell me you wanna strike a deal about my soaps?"

Bruno set the bowl down and sighed dreamily. "I never thought any big shot would take notice in my little craft," he continued, "it's really just something I do for fun. Anyway, shoot, I guess I can't say no! What a day, huh?" Lost in his own world, the bull was already staring out the window, neglecting his soup and the improvised response of Sanguine. 

Salvador’s cheeks flushed red as he took a bite. And another. The Kraker sat bent over his plate and wolved. Potatoes, fat, and greasy from the gravy. Spinach. Creamy because of the cream cheese that had been stirred through the leaves with a delicate hand. Accompanied by a pheasant. Stuffed well-roasted pheasant. Salvador cut another slice of meat and ate it with shaking hands. The roast’s taste lingered in his mouth, a hint of butter, a hint of garlic. He could cry. And he would have, if they weren’t in a country inn.
“Ya I wasn’t sure about that sentence,” Salvador said. Rubbing the pheasant’s grease from his chin and used his fork to point at the papers that lay scattered between them. He peeked at Beatrice’s plate, which mirrored his own. Though the pheasant was replaced with pork-chops. What a waste. She didn’t know what she was missing.
“I wanted to scrap that,” he said. Pointing his fork at the paper. (Some grease was leaked directly on the ink) “but I quote that sentence again in the next paragraph.”
Salvador scooped up some baby potatoes and took a mouth full of them. “Dwats why i kwept it,” he said. With a mouthful. Then swallowed.

“I prepared the questions.” Paused.  “For the interview,” he stated. Salvador lay down his cutlery. For the first time since their plates had arrived. He picked up his bag. Dug around in it before taking out another stack of paper. Unlike the draft they’ve discussed before, these questions were written in an even scribbler handwriting. The paper was blackened by the many scratches and ink smears.
“I didn’t know how to start,” he stated bluntly. Salvador handed her the papers. Then picked up his cutlery and started to eat again. Chewing on his poultry he continued: “I know Nathaniel isn’t registered as ‘n Half. Unlike Xander. Or me,” he said. The Half rubbed the tattoo on the inside of his wrist.
“I’m not sure how you can ask him why, without him strangling you.” Salvador took a sip of his glass of milk. Adding the fatty taste of milk to the dish's overall creamy palette.
Salvador slumped in his seat. Satisfied. Sure, his head throbbed, sure, his fingers shook, but he hadn’t eaten this good for months!
“Actually. I don’t know how can ask him anything without him going crazy.” Salvador rubbed his mouth clean with the back of his hand. Smearing the grease and milk combo in his sleeve.
“Why did you want to interview him again? He’s the most, unpredictable man in whole Drakenburg.”
--

Salvador straightly went from panik to kalm

"Pizza sounds good right now... Doesn't it, mister Sal-va-dor? Mmm.." She picked up the large pizza box and set it on the table. "It only has cheese on it. You don't like pepperoni, right? Me too." She went to go grab some paper plates from a nearby cabinet. "Here." She grabbed some pizza out of the box and put it on her own plate. Oh no. 

Once Salvador sat down at the table with her, she began to... rip the cheese off? What? She then started to eat the now saucy pizza, getting it all over her face. Like a child. "I don't like pizza cheese. But I got it because you seem to like it! There's also that pizza with cheese in the top if you like that...." The rest of her words were drowned out by eating the sauce pizza.

--

Destiny doesn't eat much, but she does like meat! She can't eat too much of it cause she's pretty tiny and will get full easily!

The child felt bad towards the fellow small child, as she couldn't really cook or offer anything.. She hasn't eaten in a couple of days so she's just as desperate. After stalling for some time to think of a way to feed her and her special guest, she finally got an idea. Though it wasn't a pretty one. 

The human urged Destiny to follow her to a small houses window, where a roasted chicken sat at the other side. The aroma it was giving off made her so desperate that she immediately climbed in, sneaking her way towards the chicken making sure that she didn't made a single sound. After successfully grabbing a couple of drumsticks, she safely made her way towards the outside world. Showing off Destiny the chicken drumsticks she stole with a proud grin. Before they could dine in, they made sure to stay as far as possible from the house from where they stole. 

Without even muttering a single word towards eachother, they couldn't help but laugh. The child made a muttering noise and handed the other drumstick to Destiny, it wasn't much but they both had fun! The child immediately bit into her meal, making happy noises from each bite, replenishing her everlasting hunger till she was left with a bone... She couldn't help but still feel hungry. She yet again, tapped on Destiny's shoulder and pointed at another house to steal from. 

---------

I hope I did that right aaaaaa

This child could eat absolutely ANYTHING! possibly because from being hungry so much. 

A small homeless child hurt Ben's heart immensely- he knew that could've been how his daughter might have ended up if not for him stepping in. So of course he was going to bring her in for the night, give her a meal and shelter and can work on a game plan for what to do next after this starving little girl gets something in her stomach.

She hasn't really said a word, not even her name, which is understandable to the lawyer. He's had no idea what kind of things she'd been through or anything of the sort. Or if she could even vocalize in the first place.

Letting her sit on the couch to watch TV while he prepares a meal- something he's well-verse in making of course, spaghetti. "Food's ready!" He shouted from the kitchen, setting down a few bowls, one for himself, one for his daughter, and one for the young girl. "And if either of you are still hungry, there's enough for a few more helpings."

As they all sat down to eat, Ben noticed her scarfing down the pasta so fast that he wasn't going to try to bother her and try to see if he could get any info out of her or anything. He could deal with that later.

@NP: Keep in mind Ben doesn't eat beef! Not due to any religious/cultural/dietary reasons, he just isn't a fan of it.

     "Thank you so much for meeting with me!" Ennette happily greeted when Ben came over. She gestured to the table next to them before sitting down herself, politely folding her hands above her lap. "I've heard wonderful things about you! You have an impressive win record in court!" she praised until the waiter came with their dishes. She gave Ben an apologetic smile. "Ah, I'm sorry, I took the liberty of ordering for the both of us. I hope that's okay."
     Set down before them were two large caesar salads, garnered with sliced up eggs, cherry tomatoes, and croutons. Ennette had originally ordered it for herself, but the waiter had asked if her soon-arriving guest would want some, and she ended up panicking and agreeing. "I-If you don't like it, you can order something else! I-It'll be on me! I can take that home!"
     Once things settled enough, she started digging into her own dish. Delicious, but it didn't settle well in her stomach. She was so anxious in thinking that Ben actually hated her ordering for him and that this had already given him a terrible impression of her. Maybe if she explained the situation...?
     "S-So, I have a... a question," she started hesitantly, keeping her eyes glued to her food. "This person I know, he... Oh goodness, it's so hard to explain." She paused to take a deep breath. No matter how many times she worded it in her head, it came out bad. Well, if her impression was already bad then might as well go all out, right?
     "He has to, ah... hurt people. Like-Like hunting? But-But it's bad people he hunts! They break these rules he and they have to abide! A-And sometimes it's so he can survive, too! Would it... Is it possible to defend him in court? He's only doing his job and trying to survive! He shouldn't be punished for it! ... Right?"

"So, your father is frustrated with my husband, I think?" Lacie mentioned to Ennette, as she retrieved their food from the picnic basket. "I know because Flavio keeps calling himself stupid over it. You should hear him. The moment he returned home, he said to me, 'Lacie, I am so fucking dumb.'" It would be comical if it weren't so pathetic. He kept muttering it to her whenever she least expected it.

She pulled a wrapped sandwich from the basket and handed it to Ennette. It was turkey with lettuce, tomatoes, goat cheese, and pickles. Pretty generic. A wrapped muffin and a canteen of water soon followed, but the former she commented on, "I wasn't sure if you liked blueberry muffins, so sorry in advance. I'm old. Revel in your twenties as much as you can, Dear Pearl, because eventually, you'll forget how to spell your own name." Lacie's name was fairly simple, so if she forgot how to spell it, she was probably just as dumb as her husband.

She gazed across the field, away from the princess. Was this a bit awkward, considering the issue between Ennette's father and Lacie's husband? ..She didn't want to dwell too much on the matter, buuuut...

"Flavio has difficulty distinguishing friendship between cordial professionalism, I think." She scoffed, as she took her own sandwich from the basket and unwrapped it. She took a bite, scarfed it down, and then added, "Don't be like him. Have as many friends as you do allies. It'll help you in situations such as those..."

Lacie paused to take another bite of her sandwich. "Oh, and again, I have to apologize." she added, as she forced down the lump of hell bread. "I'm sure this isn't a meal for a princess, but... a simple picnic does two ladies quite well, I think. You do look lovely this afternoon, if it's any consolation. Your hair is always so pretty."

@ np: lacie will eat pretty much anything. she really likes bananas and banana bread, if that's anything? and she hates fish/seafood because it just kind of freaks her out. coffee gross.

Wraith could imagine that seeing someone like him a what seemed to be a very formal event came as a surprise for Johnson, after all the shifter wasn't exactly the definition of rich and proper. But he had been roped into this event by Thorn, someone had come to them asking for extra bodyguards, saying that they would be paid handsomely for their job, whilst the offer of money was nice, the shifters were much more interested in the fact they would get free food at the event and so, they took the job. So here he was, currently on a break whilst Thorn and some of her pack kept a look out. There were stares from the other aristocrat, though it was more one of fear then anything else. 

The shifter sat alone in a shadowy corner of the room, picking at the food on his plate, half of which he didn't even know what it was but it was food and that's all that mattered. He glanced up from his meal when Johnson walked by his table, the pair of them holding a tense stare at each other for a minute or so before Wraith went back to his food, no anger outburst, no aggressive gestures, just a silent acknowledgement before he continued eating. 

His ears twitched when Johnson asked what he was doing at such a place. The shifter finished off the chicken drumstick he had been eating, leaving the bone on the plate but it did have some bite marks which had splinted it. It was the reason why Wraith had left it, if it had been a raw drumstick, he would have easily eaten the bone as well since it wouldn't splinter. Either way, it just showed that even in human form, the shifter had lot of jaw strength. "Bodyguard job." He said plainly, though he was a little surprised when the aristocrat sat down opposite him with his own plate, maybe the other man was expecting some sort of angered comment from the shifter, or maybe he just wanted somewhere to eat his food. Regardless, the shifter kept his calm and calculating composure, crossing his hands over each other. It was pointed out that Wraith was eating and not doing his job, to which he merely stated. "Food break, someone has taken me off for a few minutes." 

He could imagine that this side of him, one that lacked anger or malice may have been......confusing, as normally when the two of them met, Wraith and Johnson would be at each other's throats, more verbally then anything else. It could be argued that this calmer and focused side of Wraith was more unnerving. The pair of them ended up sitting and eating together quietly, maybe the odd question and answer, but nothing that triggered any angered response.

After several minute, Thorn approached Wraith and gave him a tilted nod of her head, her eyes saying everything he needed to know. He gave a nod back and stood up, gave a farewell nod towards Johnson and left with the other shifter. The signal to him had meant that one of her pack members had spotted something, it was time for them to earn their keep.

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Follow Up:

"Der is nothin' better den a toby and cheese," Roswell said as he returned to Wraith hanging at the bar. He set down a plank filled with all kinds of cheeses, bread, and gruel. Then sat down next to Wraith. The barstool cracked. The Pub, 'the hanging ear' was a greasy place. Gas-light flickered and the windows were stained with greens and yellows from the animal-fat-based soap. It stood on the edge of the slumps. Had no floor (besides wood chips and hay) and smelled of roosters-fights and sweat. Tobacco too. Roswell lit up his 'toby'(cigar) with his tinderbox, before pulling out his dagger.
"Gouda," Roswell said. As he used the kram's curved edge to point out the cheese in question. "Goat-cheese. Brie. And cumin." Roswell shot the shifter a quick smile. "Alroi, remember what oi've taught you," Roswell said. As he planted his elbow on the slimy bar and leaned into the shifter's direction.
"Whaat do we use for cheese?" He asked. "A cheese-knoiveh. Very well," Roswell continued. As he used his kram (obviously not a cheese knife) to cut the Gouda. "Yer can eat de cubes with her fingers or with a..."He shot Wraith, an quizzing look, "fork."
Roswell pinched the cube between his fingers. Tested its sponginess. Before eating it. Old Gouda. It tasted salty but creaming, a cheese flavor that lingered long in his mouth.

"If yer want to impress, whoever yer got yisser peeker on, yer need to smoke loike a gent and eat like an Emperor," Roswell said. As he picked up another cube of Gouda.
"Cheese is sumethin' de rich eat." Roswell picked up his own damping plate of gruel.
"Cheese 'n wines." He said. As he took a bite from his rye-gruel. "Don't offer dem gruel or bread. That's a poor man's dinner," he said. While dipping his bread in his gruel. The elastic porridge bounced as soon as the bread touched its surface.
It tasted as it smelled. Bad. But it was full of nutrition and had a malty aftertaste. Roswell sucked the tips of his own fingers clean of any gruel before he continued "So. Oi gave yer datin' advice now it's yer turn to give me sum advice about dos trails. Do oi need to fight?" He asked. While rubbing his chin clean with his handkerchief. "Oi mean oi can foight. Of caurse. But oi rather avoid combat, if de chance arises." Roswell scooped another spoon of gruel. "Oim just...Dat good-hearted."

--

Roswell after eating (1) rainbow colored candy