A dark-haired young man sat at the table, his arms crossed, and with a perpetual frown on his face even as he listened to Han rebut Penelope's words about Ellynn. It wasn't like the smell was that bad compared to Betsy and her friend's dung pile or anything—but it was unpleasant.
Orange stone pounded to fine dust, the seeds of the flaming capsis, some bark from the invasive whiar tree… make the flame burn brighter and then everything erupts into a smell resembling rotten fish.
Case in point, why Timothy didn't think it was that bad—but everybody else thought it was horrible. When his own plate was served in front of him, a flash of concern made its way to his chest. But then he remembered Iola would be fine.
[ Double Rations ] did the trick, and he had done it twice thanks to Han tagging along for breakfast.
