[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.
[Oh goodness! He knows as soon as he sees the pastries where they came from, but he still reads the small note attached as he sits next to the plate on the bed. For a few moments he looks thoughtful and pleased as he sets the note down and reaches for the nearest sweet--
Before he realizes someone had to have gotten into his room without his notice.
Maybe he should put up some protective wards just in case. GOOD JOB CIEL, NOW HE'S PARANOID.]
sorta action, fuck the police; d83
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.
Now we're even again.
HAHA OH CIEL...
Before he realizes someone had to have gotten into his room without his notice.
Maybe he should put up some protective wards just in case. GOOD JOB CIEL, NOW HE'S PARANOID.]