Sky had showered after his early elimination from paintball, and was going to go for a walk when he smelled cooking. So he decided to look for the source and peek into the third floor common room, smiling when he saw who it was.
"Hey, Sky," Chad said, lifting his hand (and the spatula in it) in greeting. "You hungry?"
He hoped so; he'd hate to see this food go to waste. Or into leftovers.
Prince Oscar Pedro, meanwhile, just purred away from where he was sprawled between little bowls of ingredients, tail flopping around, tempting fate with each decent, barely avoiding dipping into the salsa. He had one of his catnip toys clenched between his paws, though, so he couldn't care less.
"Definitely sharing," Chad said, nodding. "And enchiladas. Beef ones and chicken ones and vegetarian ones, too." Even if he didn't like those as well, but considerations for people like Mac were kind of embedded in his brain at a certain point. "Got a preference?"
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"Hey, Chad. And Prince Oscar Pedro."
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He hoped so; he'd hate to see this food go to waste. Or into leftovers.
Prince Oscar Pedro, meanwhile, just purred away from where he was sprawled between little bowls of ingredients, tail flopping around, tempting fate with each decent, barely avoiding dipping into the salsa. He had one of his catnip toys clenched between his paws, though, so he couldn't care less.
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