It's fresh. Or at least it was, now that we had to get our own from port we're working on preserving it. I've frozen some so we can have fresh meals now and then but it won't keep forever.
Well, I'm not cooking anything for at least a week. Unless you want to drag down a whole campfire down here so we can cook over an open flame and I doubt that anyone would think that was a very wardenly thing for you to do.
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And yes. I know what cinnamon is.
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You don't seem to have any animals here that aren't pets. Is all the meat dead?
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Well, I'm not cooking anything for at least a week. Unless you want to drag down a whole campfire down here so we can cook over an open flame and I doubt that anyone would think that was a very wardenly thing for you to do.
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I'll work up some recipes for when you're free. Do you need anything before I go?
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The fuck's a barbecue...
[Rude, Lark. Trevor shrugs]
A book might be nice. Something to keep me entertained.
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I'll bring you some. Teach you to play cards, too.
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Sounds like fun. Thank you, Lark.
[So sweet and nice]
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[He pushes back away from the cell, gives him a mock-salute, and heads back up to the upper decks.]
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[He calls, friendly, and goes to sit down on his bunk. First half hour of a week's imprisonment; done. Only about 300 more to go]