All the chicken on the menu lately has been making Edward nervous, so today he avoids the chicken and has the svedeesh meetbells. Food procured, he seats himself and opens a book, still trying to find out what went wrong.
Anders, his hair wet from showering after gym class, comes in, and hey, Swedish meatballs (er, "Svedeesh Meetbells") look good, so he gets himself a hearty helping of those plus a bowl of soup, Piling all of this on a tray along with three glasses of milk, he spots Blair and slides into a seat across from him.
"Hey, dude, how's it goin'?" he asks. Then, spotting Blair's bowl of granola, he eyes his own plate and stammers, "Um. I can, like, eat somewhere else if you want?"
Anders's eyes go wide, and he gestures vaguely at his plate of meatballs, looking guilty. "Oh, dude, that's so not what I meant. It's just, I used to be on the Pyramid team at my old school back home with this guy who was, like, way picky about his food and used to yell at me for, like, eating meat in front of him." His eyes would go even wider if it were possible, and his hands start making even more flaily gestures. "Not that, um, oh geez, dude, I'm assuming stuff and I should shut up now."
[OOC: Hi, I win at copy/pasting from Notepad. Yes.]
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She takes a seat. And eats with relish which is metiphorical in nature.
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"Hey, dude, how's it goin'?" he asks. Then, spotting Blair's bowl of granola, he eyes his own plate and stammers, "Um. I can, like, eat somewhere else if you want?"
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[OOC: Hi, I win at copy/pasting from Notepad. Yes.]
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"Hope you haven't eaten much yet, because I'm about to ruin your appatite rather spectacularly."
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