All of this museuming and fabric-fondling (not to mention Sigyn-rescuing) has given me an appetite. I demand to be fed!
Well, that worked better than I hoped. We are going out to dinner! The human female’s sister insists that that was always the plan. Suuuure it was.
We are now seated in a place called Haji’s. It is a smallish place, part store, part cafe. The menu seems to feature cuisine from some other part of the planet.
Falafil. Shawerma. Tabooooli. I have no real idea what these are. Some of the words are just fun to say.
Mmm. It certainly smells good. What do you think, Sigyn? Chicken grilled on a skewer and some salady bits?
The human female’s mother has ordered a mixed plate of nibbly things–stuffed grape leaves, some of the falafil balls, some beige stuff, and some green stuff.
(poke, poke, poke) I don’t trust it.
The food has all come with a shaker of spice to sprinkle over the top.
Sigyn dearly wants to climb inside to have a taste and no doubt need rescuing, but in this case, the screw top is a powerful barrier. No rescuing needed! We can enjoy our feast in peace.
>|: 9
