[There's a small plate of two pastries left in Ferdinand's room on the bed. (Sebastian is good about knowing these things, ok.)
There's a note attached, torn from the corner of a page, hand-written, and ridiculous for a thirteen-ish year old child:]
One is baklava. It's a Turkish dessert, made of filo pastry and filled with nuts. It's sweetened with syrup and honey. The other you should know. Berliner Pfannkuchen.
[Good morning, nice to talk to you again Ferdinand, hope you're doing well and haven't been eaten/set on fire/punched through by mach 5 harpies etc etc]
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