ArchivedLogs:Dishing

Dishing
Dramatis Personae Micah, Lucien, Melinda, Hanna
In Absentia	3 October 2013 Picnics and chatting...mostly about food.
Location <NYC> Tompkins Square Park - East Village
Small but popular, this tree-lined park is a perfect centerpiece to the eclectic neighborhood it resides in. Home to a number of playgrounds and courts from handball to basketball, it also houses a dog park and chess tables, providing excellent space for people watching -- especially during its frequent and often eccentric festivals, from Wigstock to its yearly Allen Ginsberg tribute Howl festival. It is a gorgeous early autumn evening and Micah has had more than enough of sitting around inside! Though, admittedly, he has been quite productive on the front of sewing and knitting. It is time to be /out/ and with /people/! He has made phone call rounds, successfully reaching a Lucien and a Melinda in his quest for accompaniment on his adventure. Micah is dressed in a blue and green plaid button-down shirt, faded jeans, and a pair of black sneakers with neon green laces. He is seated, once again, in his likewise neon green ultralight wheelchair, though his equally obnoxiously bright orange forearm crutches are tucked into the backrest's bar. His lap is filled with an Apple family quilt and an honest-to-goodness quaint picnic basket. A brownish newsboy cap is perched on his head, and a little ball of beagle excitement in the form of an Obie is at the end of a leash. On his way out to the park to meet his summoned friends, Micah /also/ runs into a Hanna in the lobby and pretty much insists that it would be sad if she did not join the little group preparing to form. So it is that he arrives to the park! Lucien's acceptance of this invitation was fairly dispassionate, polite if not overly eager. And yet. He arrives at the park promptly, dressed in tailored dark jeans and a green button-down, a black leather jacket worn open over top. He has a grocery bag tucked over one shoulder, and his eyes sweep the park with idle interest while he meanders through. The sight of the beagle gives him pause; for a moment he looks mildly resigned before he fits a pleasant smile on his face, continuing over towards Micah. "Micah. Good evening." He leans down to peck the other man lightly on the cheek, a soft flutter of warmth accompanying the kiss. "/Goodness/, he has a lot of energy, doesn't he?" Melinda didn't bother packing any food as Micah offered to take care of that, but does show up for this picnic with beverages and cups in her well used reusable shopping bag. She's wearing a loose fitting eyelet lace skirt in mocha, with white tunic with a similar stitching over her torso. Her boots are soft suede and come up to her knees with small tassels on the outsides. She smiles when she sees the party gathering and rushes the last few yards with a bit more energy. "Hi, Micah. So glad to see you out. Did you get everything okay?" Her eyes search the rest of the group, moving to hug Micah when Lucien is done. "Um, where should I be careful of again?" An embarrassed pink creeps into her cheeks. "Hi, Hanna, Lucien!" Hanna had just been making her way towards her apartment following a long day at work, still dressed in her work clothes - a fluffy A-line wool skirt in a autumnal copper over black crinolines, paired with a cream and gold cardigan sweater set, a pair of gold ballet flats completing the look. She has her usual box of leftover pastries from the shop, carried in a rainbow canvas bag at her side as she follows the little group along to the park across the way. The obvious look of concern is still on her face as she accompanies Micah along, although it melts away at the sight of Melinda, chuckling and raising her free hand in a wave, "Hello Melinda! And Lucien, yes?" She sounds a bit uncertain about his name, but she smiles none-the-less. "I appear to have been rescued from a likely to fail attempt at cooking dinner and guilted into a picnic instead," she chuckles lightly, offering a shrug. "Hi, Lucien!" Micah chirps in cheerful greeting, reaching up to give the other man a little one-armed hug when he leans down for the little kiss. "I know, the poor pup! He's been stuck inside a lot more since the boys went back t'school. I couldn't /not/ bring 'im when I left. He goes all sad-eye if y'move toward the door an' don't get his leash. Figure we can get some fetch time in after dinner, before it gets dark, too." His smile broadens as Melinda appears. "Hi, Mel! Glad to /be/ out. I'm about losin' my mind with all this sittin' around. S'pretty much just the gut wound as is still troublesome. S'long as y'aren't tryin' t'pick me up or confusin' me for a Tickle-Me Elmo, we should be fine." Giggling, he reaches up again for a hug from Mel. "Oh, right!" he exclaims, suddenly remembering that everyone might not know each other yet. "This is Hanna. Um...I think y'know Mel. An', yeah, that's Lucien. I guess everybody /had/ met already, then!" He tugs at the quilt in his lap a bit. "So, I brought a quilt if people wanna pull up a square of ground all traditional-like. Or there are some tables sprinkled 'round out here, if you'd rather. 'Specially since the girls are in pretty skirts." "You do often boast similar colouring to Elmo." A faint twitch of smile tugs at Lucien's mouth, though it is soon to fade. "Mel. How delightful." She gets a small cheek-kiss, too, the same touch of warmth coming with it. "Hanna and I have met, yes. I didn't realize," his eyes flick curiously between Hanna and Melinda, "that you were all acquainted. Lovely." There's a small touch of amusement that warms his voice when he answers Hanna's comment about guilt, "-- Micah is excellent at the puppy-eyes, too." "I suppose Jayna is going to be okay on her own?" Melinda pulls back from her hug with Micah and gives him a solemn nod. "I promise, no tickling. And I'm fine with the grass or a table - as the table might be better for you since you won't have to get up." She reaches for Obie's leash as she backs away, taking the energetic one. "Oh, I think I know every non-chain coffee vendor in Manhattan at least in passing," she admits to Lucien, attention mostly on the dog. "There are barista conventions and get togethers all over the country. When we're not pissing over territory, we're trying to support each other in the face of Starbucks and their amazing employee benefits." She wets her lips and crouches low to scritch behind Obie's ears. "I brought drinks. Tea and lemonade." Hanna chuckles at the introductions, shaking her head, "For such a big city, it is a surprisingly small town." She frowns at the talk of Micah having been shot, frowning slightly at the young man, "Gut wound? My god, what...? Is everyone alright? I mean... I...?" Her questions sputter and she shakes her head slightly, frowning in concern. Melinda's concern about Jayna gets a smile and a nod, Hanna's coffee colored eyes fading to a duller hazel, "Yeah - she's just fine - she's in the basement at the bakery working on another batch of beans tonight. I'm planning on swinging back by in a while to pick her up once she's done." She holds up the rainbow bag, grinning, "I've got pastries, but they are sort of the cast-offs and leftovers that weren't quite fit for selling in the shop-front. If people don't mind them being a bit ugly looking, I'd be happy to share." Belatedly she adds, "Though, I can't gaurantee they are entirely allergen-free. I'm sorry." A pretty little blush creeps obligingly across Micah's cheeks at Lucien's colour commentary, though it stays more in the spectrum of pinks rather than reaching a true Muppet red. He does get a little closer at the accusation of puppy-eyes, adding an innocent look skyward. "Hanna lives up at the tip-top of our buildin', actually." He chuckles at Mel's concern. "I'm perfectly capable of gettin' on an' off the floor. But we can table t'keep y'from frettin' over it. An' it'll ensure that the food's a bit more beagle-safe." Speaking of beagles, Obie happily winds his way around Mel's legs as she claims his leash, though he does hold still for a moment, tail wagging double-time at the petting. Micah wheels toward the nearest picnic table, braking by the bench-free end and placing the picnic basket on the table, trading his quilt out for crutches so that he can stand and start unloading food. "Thanks for bringin' the drinks, by the way, Mel. Left more room in the basket for /food/." The picnic basket is filled with a plentiful supply of napkins and containers of vegan finger-foods: roasted veggie and hummus wraps, quinoa and black bean salad spooned into halves of small sweet bell peppers in autumnal reds and yellows and oranges, apple slices with caramel and peanut butter sauces for dipping, and maple-cinnamon muffins that /probably/ can be blamed on Jax (since they actually look and smell like muffins!). "These are all sesame-free, Lucien, so there should be enough not t'worry." He waves off Hanna's worrying as he sets containers on the table, one hand freed up with the crutch resting against the table to facilitate the process. "Just got in a little dust-up that ended with a...brief interaction with a bullet. Came right back out, though. S'just takin' a little time t'mend up completely." He pauses in his unpacking to rest a hand lightly over his flank, indicating the region of one of the healing wounds. "Barista conventions." Lucien echoes this blandly, with a small upward tick of his brows. "You met at a barista convention." It's hard to tell exactly what he thinks of this, his expression quietly neutral as he follows Micah towards the table. The mention of no allergen-free guarantee, though, stops him in the process of sitting down and shedding his own bag; his eyes tick towards Hanna's bag and instead he just stands behind the bench, hitching his bag further up onto his shoulder, fingers curled around its strap. He examines the table when Micah unloads his food, curious as he reaches to pick up one of the wraps and take a bite. "Huh. Is that hummus, what did you put in it? I can never get mine to quite turn out right." His free hand falls almost idly to Micah's neck, brushing along the back of it briefly -- a small touch, though adequate enough to silently erase any residual pain his bullet-interaction may have left. "No, we met because I was checking out the new bakery cafe because I had a free afternoon and wanted to know what the new competition was like." Melinda replies with a small dry smile. She stands back up and stretches her back, a fleeting look of discomfort appearing on her face when faced with some stiffness. She's back to smiling. "It doesn't negate the fact that I probably would have met her at the next bean synergy meeting." She moves over to the table and pulls out the cups and the two large jars filled with the hand made beverages, small spigots on the sides for easy pouring. She rubs at her shoulder and puts the bag under the table before sliding into a sitting position. "This is... a lot of food, Micah. Are you sure you've been resting up?" Hanna raises an eyebrow curiously at the variety of food, looking between Micah and the spread as he explains his brief bullet interaction. “Uh huh. You’re either more stubborn than I am, or crazy strong - I was out of comission for a solid week after getting the tar beaten out of me,” she snorts lightly, setting the box of pastries on the far end of the table and folding the bag up and using it as a sit-upon, “And yet you seem to have been cooking to feed a small army.” There’s a laugh at the barista convention comment, “Don’t knock those - the competitions at those are outright scary sometimes. Not to mention all the nifty trade toys and such. Jayna’s planning to enter one of her custom roasts into the next local one.” A proud grin brightens her features at this, and she nods, snickering, “Bakery conventions are worse - little old ladies with antique rolling pins guarding secret family recipes. They are vicious little creatures. But yes - the independant cafe community is pretty small - y’get to know most everyone around you in due time.” “Yeah, it doesn't quite fluff up or smooth out as much without the tahini, does it. But if you add in real coarse salt at the same time as the olive oil, it still blends pretty nice in a food processor. /And/ I found out if you add in some almond butter it helps t'get the consistency a little closer,” Micah replies to the hummus question before that touch to his neck steals his breath for a moment in a softly sighed little 'oh'. “I've been /restin'/, Mel. I haven't been t'work in over a week now. I literally didn't get outta bed on Thursday or Friday. Saturday afternoon only got into the chair t'get home an' then was only between chair an' couch an' bed. Sunday was still only pushin' m'self short distances, finally got around outside on my own on Monday. Didn't start standin' 'til Monday afternoon, an' that's only been usin' my arms t'hold me up. Took a few steps inside the apartment Tuesday, an' only with the crutches. Did some walkin' in the hall with the crutches yesterday. An' I'm still between the chair'n walkin' really short distances with the crutches today. I can't just sit around all the time, I'll decondition completely if I don't go crazy first.” Once all of the food containers have been unloaded, Micah shifts himself over to a bench seat, pulling his arms out of the cuffs of his crutches and leaning them against his empty wheelchair. “Cookin' this kinda food's almost entirely /arm/ work, an' I didn't more'n bruise /those/ a bit. I been just sittin' plenty, promise.” He offers Hanna a little smile. “S'just different kinds of injuries, hon. Bakin's near to impossible t'pull off one-armed when you're used t'havin' two. I'm cheatin' with a lot of experience relyin' on my arms t'get around.” He shrugs, reaching for a stuffed orange pepper and nibbling at its edge. “Bean synergy.” Lucien echoes this bland and inflectionless, just a small tip of his head acknowledging the rest of the convention conversation with a mild quiet, “It sounds thrilling.” He still does not sit, though once he finishes the wrap he reaches into his own grocery bag to extract a long paper bag and a bread knife; he extracts a very mildly glossy braided loaf from the bag, setting it down atop the paper bag on the table. “-- Still fairly warm, even. It is alright for Jax; you can bring whatever is left home to him and Spencer. It took a touch of experimenting; he’s welcome to the recipe, if he enjoys it. He mentioned once he has been at a complete loss for how to bake vegan challah.” The comment about Micah resting -- and subsequent answer -- earns a very small quirk of smile. “Goodness. There isn’t a one of you who is not an expert-level worrier, is there? I am /quite/ certain Micah has not lacked for people fussing over him.” Another brief touch to Micah’s neck comes this time with a gentle soothing warmth; he moves aside after this to drop a small kiss to the top of Melinda’s head. His eyes skim the table, from Micah’s wealth of food to Melinda’s drinks to the box Hanna has set down, and he straightens with a faintly wider smile. “My apologies. I should go see to the children. Enjoy your meal.” His head inclines to Hanna, and he tucks his bag back onto his shoulder in preparation to go. "Work conferences are as exciting as work conferences can be, in pretty much any line of work, I suppose." Melinda concedes, lips pursing in thought. One brow rises as Hanna details the particulars of some of the past events she's attended. She chuckles dryly and shakes her head, reaching out to pour herself a glass of lemonade to start, but doesn't take a drink. Instead, she turns to offer it to Hanna wordlessly, distracted by Micah's schedule. "Well, I withdraw my concern. You have far more experience with physical therapy than I do. Gun shot wounds in my friends kind of get to me." She turns her attention upon the bread when Lucien withdraws it from the bag and she unconsciously draws a lip between her teeth in anticipation - but then the moment passes, her expression clouding a little. "Oh. You're leaving. I'm sorry." Lips quickly return to the pursed and thoughtful position, a small wrinkle appearing between her brows. She draws in a deep breath as she nods. "I'll see you later then?" Hanna accepts the lemonade from Melinda just as wordlessly, her eyebrows raising as she listens to Micah recount his week. “Oh, wow. Goodness, that’s,” Hanna holds the cup of lemonade in both hands, for once at a loss for words, “Well, glad to see that you seem to be on the mend.” Taking a sip from her lemonade, she nods approvingly to Melinda, offering a grin, “Sorry for being such a worry-wort. I tend to fuss over people.” She looks confused at Lucien’s announcement of departure, glancing briefly at the food and then at him, “You… oh. If… if the pastries are a concern, I can put them away. There shouldn’t be anything airborne - but if you would rather, there is plenty of food. No need to toss pastries into the mix.” She stumbles over her words for a moment, suddenly feeling like an intruder, eyes fading to boring dull brown as she glances back at the box of cakes. “Sorry. See previous statement about fussing. Have a pleasant evening, if you do need to go. It was nice to see you again.” she says after a moment. “Ooo, warm challah is the best thing. Baking is like magic, I don't even know how you guys do it.” Micah eyes the bread with interest from over the edge of his pepper. “An' no, I haven't lacked for any kind of fussin'. Jax alone is prob'ly worth /several/ average people.” He takes another little bite before setting the pepper down on a napkin. “Thanks, guys, I promise that I'm not over-doin' it. It really was just a flesh wound. Ain't like I'm waitin' for bones to heal, here. I should be able t'get around an' do some things eventually.” His eyebrows raise as Lucien seems to be leaving. “Go...see to the... Y'really came down here t'drop off bread'n go back home?” Micah twists around in his seat, his head tilting with an inquisitive and just /slightly/ pouty look directed toward the other man. “I mean...if you /really/ have t'go you should at least take some food along for the kids.” "No. Cooking is like magic. Baking is like science. -- I came here to see you, and go back home." Though Lucien stops, at Hanna's stumbling, at Micah's poutyface; for a long moment he just examines the table, and then turns his eyes up towards the sky. "Do you see what I mean," he seems to be directing this /longsuffering/ comment towards the heavens, "about the puppy eyes?" His expression has faded back to neutral as he moves to take a seat on the end of a bench by Micah's chair, sliding his empty grocery bag off his shoulder to puddle on the seat beside him. "Once," he says lightly, "someone gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. They'd eaten Chinese for lunch four hours earlier and I ended up in the hospital. You'll have to forgive me; I tend, now, towards somewhat excessive caution." He props one elbow on the table, resting his chin in his palm. "With the company you keep, Melinda, I imagine gunshot wounds in your friends are just a fact of life you will have to adjust to. Though these days I might well say the same of /anyone/ in this city." "No, I'm going to choose not to get used to that. The day I start dismissing bullet holes in people will be when I have to sew them up myself. And… I don't want to do that." Melinda takes another cup from the stack and looks to Lucien. "I have an earl grey with lavender or lemonade with a twist of lime. Do you have a preference?" She glances toward Micah as well, raising her brows to silently repeat the question. "Oh, Hanna, if you wanted tea, I'm sorry. I should have offered the option to you. I just, well, started pouring." “Mm, I think it could be said that there’s a certain amount of magic in any food prepared with the intention of sharing it with friends,” Hanna says quietly, smiling as she talks, “But there is a decent amount of science to baking, it’s true. Difference is, you can usually eat the failed experiments. Most of the time, anyway.” Hanna nods to Micah, “If you want, I have a friend who might be able to help some? He’s just about the only reason I was able to get back to normal so quickly.” She looks sheepish for a moment, bowing her head, “Apologies, I’ll stop fussing. Hard trend to break.” A slight gasp escapes her lips, when Lucien further elaborates, “Oh. Wow. I didn’t realize the severity. Sorry - pastries go right back in the bag.” As she says this, the crisp white box of pastries is slid carefully off the table, and placed back into her reusable bag, folded over and set beside her on the bench, out of the way. Melinda’s apology gets a shrug and a smile, “No worries! Lemonade is delicious. Your own blend?” Hanna takes another sip curiously, “I’ll try the tea, too, in time, but this is plenty good for now.” “Oh, Lucien-honey...if y'think /that/ was puppy-eyein' at you...” Micah giggles a bit, blushing faintly again with a slow headshake. “That was...slight disappointment. Y'ain't begun t'see puppy eyes.” He presses his knee in a playful nudge against the other man's as he settles into his seat. “Ohgosh, though! That's not...an allergy. That is a clear attempt by sesamekind to be done with you. I have no idea what you might've done t'so offend.” His head shakes again at the gunshot wound observations. “No, I think anybody bein' well-adjusted t'people gettin' shot prob'ly ain't well-adjusted in /general/. S'understandable for folks t'have some upset over it.” He perks at Melinda's tea description. “Ooo, lavender! I love lavender. Definitely tea for me.” Hanna's offer earns a nod in reply. “I think I know who y'mean. I just...kind of. Forgot. In all of the...everything.” He looks a little sheepish, though he hides the expression behind finishing the end of his pepper. "There was a philosopher who had something to say about that. Krishnamurti, I believe. 'It is no measure of health to be well-adjusted to a profoundly sick society.' I think that describes ours well enough." Lucien relaxes, at least once the pastries disappear back into the bag. His quick twitch of smile is thankful, if wry. "There are times my body does seem /quite/ determined to off itself. It's a conspiracy between it and sesame. -- Lemonade, if you'd be so kind." Hanna's fussing only seems to amuse him, given his previous comment about expert-level worrying. Melinda nods and fills a glass of each, handing them toward their requesting recipients, before finally filling up a glass of tea for herself. "I guess you could call it my own blend. I don't do too much with tea. I was considering putting the lavender with the lemonade, but the bergamot smelled so good when brewing I put the two of them together instead." She takes a sip and sets down her glass, listening to others before reaching out and taking a stuffed pepper for herself. Hanna nods to Micah when he agrees about the friend, but otherwise follows up on her promise of fussing, at least over him. For now, anyway. She frowns slightly, sipping at her lemonade daintily, “Don’t think I’ll ever get accustomed to people getting shot, or injured in general. I rather hope I don’t see it often enough to be able to brush it off.” A grin to Melinda, and a nod, “Bergamot goes excellent in so many things. Lavender is nice - but too much can make things taste oddly of soap.” She crinkles her nose at this, and shrugs, selecting a stuffed pepper to nibble upon. “I guess it is kinda like that, in some ways,” Micah responds softly to Lucien's quoting, a frown briefly pressing his lips thin. But then he has a fresh glass of tea and there is deliciousness to sample! He sips at it, his tongue sliding across his lips afterward. “Oh, yum. One of my favourite lavender things is when they crystalise the whole buds in honey an' just let the flavour seep through that way. Y'do have t'be careful with lavender oil, though,” he agrees with Hanna. “I've had muffins that ended up tastin' like potpourri instead of all sweet'n delicate. Blech flowery-perfume-pastries.” He reaches for a wrap to continue his lunch-munchies. “But enough about me bein' shot. S'old news now. What's everybody else been up to?” “Bergamot smells good most any time.” Lucien takes the lemonade, setting it down in front of himself without taking any. “And it’s amazing, really, what people can become accustomed to, given enough exposure. I suppose it’s somewhat of a blessing,” His eyes flick briefly around the others at the table, “that you haven’t yet needed to learn.” Melinda studies Lucien for a moment, her lips pursed, concern evident in her gaze. She takes a sip of her tea and sets it down, then resumes picking at her food. "I grew up on the little lavender candies that people would bring in from France and came in the adorable little tins. There were violet candies too, but they were both kind of delicious - and tiny, purposefully." She looks down at the tea and exhales. “Mm - crystallized lavender is excellent. One of the more interesting wedding cakes I did back in Hawai’i involved the entire cake being done up with designs made out of those,” Hanna says with a grin, motioning with her hands to indicate a spiralling pattern up along a cake. “Hmm… haven’t done anything with lavender lately, actually. Not quite the season for it,” she shakes her head and looks suddenly sheepish, “Sorry. I’ll chatter endlessly about baking, even when not really on-topic.” She nibbles slightly at the edge of the pepper, a concerned look at Lucien’s last comment, but somewhat reluctant to comment further. Micah's brows start to drift together into their concerned positions. He rests a hand lightly on Lucien's arm, instead deciding to ask about food. “Anythin' else I can grab for you, hon?” His head tilts toward the spread that is mostly in front of him, since he unpacked it. “That was prob'ly so /pretty/, Hanna. Looked like it was all covered in gems with the sugar-crystals, I'd bet. Hm...yeah, prob'ly more lavender in the spring or summer. Bet you're rampin' up for a whole slew of pumpkin-spice whatevers now.” He chuckles at her concerns of excess baking talk. “I'd say you're pretty on-topic, hon. We /were/ talkin' about puttin' lavender in food.” “Thank you, no.” Lucien’s smile is small, and he reaches to take the lemonade, one finger tracing slowly around the rim of the cup. “That does sound lovely. Sometimes I feel it’s almost a shame to eat those. They’re works of art.” His brows pull together into a sharp frown, weight shifting as he reaches into his pocket to slide his buzzing phone out of it. He glances at the screen with a continuation of his frown. “-- Forgive me. Now I /do/ have to go. Enjoy your evening.” He nods to Hanna as he stands, pressing kisses to the top of Micah and Melinda’s heads in turn before tucking the phone beside his ear and heading off into the park. Melinda closes her eyes for the duration of the kiss and smiles warmly toward Lucien as he departs. She looks back to the others at the table and smiles a little. "Personally I don't know if there is anything better than a pecan pie in the fall. You guys can keep your pumpkins." She finishes off her pepper and reaches for one of the wraps. "But that's not to derail. Feel free to keep talking bakeries. I'm sorry I'm so quiet. I just have a lot going on in my head today." “Eh - I have photos of the finished cake in one of my portfolios,” Hanna says with a shrug and a smile, “It really was an amazing looking cake, in the end. But, uh, I’m a little bit biased on that.” She grins and nods at the pumpkin comment, “Pumpkin, walnut, and a handful of other things - thinking of making some dark chocolate pumpkin brownies this week, just to see how it goes.” She offers a wave of farewell to Lucien, “You have a nice evening as well, too.” She grins at Melinda and nods, “Ah, pecan pie, with fresh whipped cream is so good on a cool fall day.” The grin fades to a slightly concerned look, but she doesn’t voice the concern at this point. Micah reaches back to give Lucien a little pat-hug as he leaves, not fighting it this time since there was a legit phone message involved. “G'night, Lucien. Feel free t'snag some of the food on your way.” He decides not to make the other man wait on him standing, as he usually would, before he departs. “Pecans is nice, too. Think I'm a bit more partial t'walnuts, though. An'...hazelnut. Oh, hazelnut is the best, especially with chocolate! Dark chocolate pumpkin sounds dense an' rich an'...like y'might need t'eat 'em with a /fork/. I'll have t'stop by an' try one. Good thing we have /food/, all this talk is makin' me hungry!” He sets down his wrap on a napkin, however, opening up another container to snag a maple-cinnamon muffin before holding it out to the ladies. “I know. S'early for dessert. But I didn't wanna wait anymore after all that. Time for sweets!”