soup of theseus || panette + chad
perpetual stew ✧ no point
Their hands lower with the reassurance, their grimace softening into a still-apologetic wince, which then eases into nothing more than a slightly furrowed brow. Though they'd hate to cut in line, she is actually in line unlike the other dozen people around her just lollygagging, and they do have a bit of a conversation going, now...
It can't hurt, right? They can wait if someone makes a fuss. Her strangely-posh, implacable bearing and style should hopefully prove flashy enough to let them slip under the radar in comparison.
Weight shifts onto one leg, a thoughtful tilt of the head. "Yeah. Five-day-stews are nothin' to sneeze at. Still, when you're talking about years— That's a lot more than a lot. I guess didn't expect there to be this many people."
Chad shrugs. "So no matter how real the rumors are, it's probably going to taste great, yeah?
The teen stays by her side to converse; something she welcomes openly. She briefly ponders if there shall be any issue with them joining next to her; she supposes that’ll be dealt with if it comes to it. She also wonders if it’s hypocritical of her to do so considering she’d cussed a guy out for cutting in line before. But nah, he was a genuine jerk, this kid seems to be fine. And besides, can one blame her for being hypocritical? She’s still quite new to this continent; anyone would wish for some companionship in her position.
“I shall admit, I have never had the opportunity to taste a stew that had been ruminating for even a few days, let alone such an impressively long time; it is honestly quite difficult to even comprehend. But as you say, based on how big the turnout has been, the taste shall surely be immaculate!” She goes silent for a moment, wondering if she should show her hand so soon; she figures it may entice her newfound companion to keep her further company.
“And just in case the stew does not turn out satisfactory…” She lowers her voice, just in case such a suggestion may be seen as some sort of blasphemy. “I have brought some of my own seasonings and spices with me!” She shows off a few tiny pouches she has with her, all filled with various sorts of seasoning; some look mild whilst some look like they would pack quite the heat!
The brief silence isn't not unsettling, but they do find themself anticipating whatever the girl says next— If, of course, she chooses to say it at all. When she does—
Where some might worry of blasphemy, Chad's eyes only light up at the mention of spices, brighter at the sight of them; as used to sneaking glances as he is cookies in the pantry, he gives the spice packets a quick appraisal, just as quickly meeting with approval.
Their voice similarly lowered: "What matters is that we give the normal soup a fair shot, right?"
Low enough that their voice might get lost in the shuffle forward of the line with the servers shouting for the next customers: "How spicy's the spiciest stuff?"



















