Pale opened an eye, looking around, before sitting up in his bed and exhaling deeply. He sounded exhausted, "Whew."
Tycondrius rolled his eyes, "How long were you planning on pretending to sleep?"
"Ehehe..." Pale grinned and looked down at his hands, "Until Troia left? And uh... why does it smell like... burning?"
Lone glanced at the small table near the bed, "I think your girlfriend baked you cookies."
"She's... not my girlfriend?" Pale tilted his head.
"Can I have one, then?"
"Sure?"
Suddenly, a sharp sense of unease washed over Tycon.
He glanced over at the tray that Troia had brought in.
« System, analysis: Tray of... items? »
He couldn't rightfully call them biscuits... or even consumables.
⟬ System response: Tray of Dry Bricks. Mundane projectile weapon. If consumed, inflicts nausea, vomiting, diarrhea. Low probability to inflict death-effect. ⟭
