( The trouble with shedding affection and drenching maudlin spirits in its shrapnel is, ghosts thirst for attention. The jolly old man speaks to them, and it's all they can do, giddiness bursting at their invisible seams, to contain themselves as they rush to speak over each other and confirm their dishes of choice.
He asked what you usually put inside, Thor wants to shout out, between gritting teeth, not what you want in.
But then, it's too late. The little man is all but apprehended by ghosts each way, most clinging to him, in what might have been a successful attempt to take his arm, if not for the half dozen of rivals who seek the same. And Thor, abandoned, can only blink. )
no subject
He asked what you usually put inside, Thor wants to shout out, between gritting teeth, not what you want in.
But then, it's too late. The little man is all but apprehended by ghosts each way, most clinging to him, in what might have been a successful attempt to take his arm, if not for the half dozen of rivals who seek the same. And Thor, abandoned, can only blink. )
...you are a popular cook of some manner?