6.69 - Chat with Death
“Pizzas not for breakfast!” Tresk shouted.
Sarisa and Rowan blinked a few times, looking over the marshling as she gawked at the provided dish. It wasn’t even remotely pizza. Not that either of them would know what pizza was, aside from the times when Theo might have told them. They were served flatbread with melted cheese and butter, which was as much like pizza as any tomato-based soup was. She must have been drawing from his mind for some joke no one but her got. And there was no way the marshling would elaborate.
“Yes, well,” Sarisa said, taking her seat and clearing her throat. “Thought we’d do something different.”
“Not that this is cultural or anything,” Rowan shrugged.
“I’m from here!” Tresk shouted back. “I am the culture!”
Theo nodded, ignoring Tresk’s outburst. He could feel her nervousness about creating a moon. She did well under pressure, but only when that pressure was immediate. When it was looming in the distance, she got nervous. Then as time marched toward when she had to deal with the problem, she got crazy. Like a cornered goblin.
“Who would have thought that Broken Tusk would have cheese,” Theo said, looking at the flatbread before him. It was even made with wheat, instead of zee meal. “I think we should form your planet today, Tresk.”
“Yeah, me too,” Tresk said, fidgeting. “I can’t think right.”
“I have something to take care of,” Sarisa said, nodding at Theo. “If that’s okay.”