[ITP: Cravings]

[cheerleading]

[It's very late at night, or very early in the morning, and there's a blonde girl sitting on a bench in the mess hall in pyjamas and a dressing gown, spooning icecream into a bowl.]

You know what this needs? Pickles. And peanut butter.

[She licks the spoon thoughtfully.]

And maple syrup.

((mingle! eta: sleeping! will pick up old & new tomorrow.

Comments

[o_sarchasm]

[definitely not making a late night beef jerky run--]

... Pickles? Really?

[cheerleading]

Definitely. Those really big ones you can buy individually.

[o_sarchasm]

Huh! I thought they were all tiny.

[cheerleading]

I would also accept tiny pickles. I don't even know where to start looking for them, though.

[o_sarchasm]

Most likely somewhere in the kitchen, guarded by one of the mildly bloodthirsty and extremely territorial chefs.

But that's just a guess.

[cheerleading]

Bloodthirsty?

[o_sarchasm]

Not literally. Just... prone to violence?

[cheerleading]

Oh. See I thought, maybe... 'cause of the gross soup...

[o_sarchasm]

No, uh. We have some of those, too.

[cheerleading]

Oh. Yuck. You're kinda turning me off my ice-cream, here.

[o_sarchasm]

Sorry. Please, by all means, continue.

[cheerleading]

[taking a big spoonful!]

...Yeah, no, this just isn't going to work.