At the bar is someone who is trying to figure out how this is working, exactly.
Maybe it's got those clear puppet strings you have to catch the light just right to see. But then where do they go? To the rafters? And how is it eating?
This investigation probably doesn't necessitate leaning over with his head at a 90-degree angle and staring with baffled intensity, but... well, this is why Linguini's not a detective.
"Alfredo Linguini," after a wary pause. Trying to figure people out in this place gets awfully difficult.
And, as if to make it clear that he is adept enough at devouring bird-shaped souls that his own will not be easy to harvest (...right? Wait what is he thinking IT'S A PUPPET), he eats the Peep.
"...they're juf marfmallows." Blink.
No divine properties to speak of. He's almost disappointed.
"It's an Easter thing. They've got rabbits and eggs, too, and a ton of things for other holidays, but the chicks were first," Cthulhu explains before two more disappear.
Okay, well, he's just going to try to think of a way to respond to that, because he did not understand it at all. On the other hand, a sane person apparently wouldn't. Q.E.D.
The slightly disconcerted stare Cthulhu gets probably makes that clear enough anyway, though.
Maybe it's got those clear puppet strings you have to catch the light just right to see. But then where do they go? To the rafters? And how is it eating?
This investigation probably doesn't necessitate leaning over with his head at a 90-degree angle and staring with baffled intensity, but... well, this is why Linguini's not a detective.
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And, as if to make it clear that he is adept enough at devouring bird-shaped souls that his own will not be easy to harvest (...right? Wait what is he thinking IT'S A PUPPET), he eats the Peep.
"...they're juf marfmallows." Blink.
No divine properties to speak of. He's almost disappointed.
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"And sugar! It's exactly like eating a soul!" the puppet insists. "Alright, maybe not exactly but it's the closest thing you're ever going to taste."
Poor inferior flesh sack.
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"Yuh-yes.
I'll pass on eating souls."
Beat.
"Why are they shaped like chicks?" he adds when his curiosity wins out over his flustered affrontedness.
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"It's an Easter thing. They've got rabbits and eggs, too, and a ton of things for other holidays, but the chicks were first," Cthulhu explains before two more disappear.
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Or, you know, any at all. But he's getting hyperglycemia just watching it!
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Which doesn't explain how he eats at all, but Alfredo didn't really ask, so.
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Ah, humans and their literal thinking.
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You know, it's probably for the best that Cthulhu can't grin in anyway understood by a human.
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The slightly disconcerted stare Cthulhu gets probably makes that clear enough anyway, though.
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He sounds so eager too.
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"Thanks, but actually... I have a... I'm late for something."
Something upstairs. Yep.
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