They're piping hot, maybe a little crispy around the edges, but still pretty damn perfect. The smell is delicious, the steam that rises from the pan she deposits on the counter is heavenly, as well. Rahzel takes another glass from their meager provisions and sets it down, pouring herself a glass.

"Buckwheat the Third, then."

That smile...its almost hard to watch it cross his face. Almost painful, like something from worlds away. But he's trying, that flash in his eyes cements it. True life.

"I'll age one hundred times better than you when I'm a cute little old grandma."