Julie was still blaming herself in her head, of all the days, why did her cooking have to be a biological hazard today, thinking that if only her stew hadn't been so atrocious, they could have spent a few more cozy moments together, wrapped up in each other on the ground instead of dealing with the aftermath of her culinary war crime.
Meanwhile, Cassius had strolled back over to the cooking setup with the swagger of a man walking to his execution.
"Speaking of cooking…" He said, peering down at the pot. "The stew...or whatever this was...is still here."
He grimaced.
There it was, still bubbling faintly like a cursed swamp, with the texture of sludge and the color of regret. He picked up the pot with two fingers, holding it like it might bite him. The viscous goo inside swirled ominously.
