The carton was most certainly not poisoned. It was genuine homemade ice cream, her mother's recipe, vanilla bean and enormous chocolate chunks. Simple, elegant, and more delicious than most of the crazy flavors Romilda had seen being sold. Of course, she was spoiled for food in general, considering food was the very keystone of her family's culture. On her mother's side, at least.
"You're welcome," she said, smiling widely. She took another spoonful and swallowed it, enjoying the way it covered her palate and slid down her throat. "That's really the main reason," she said honestly. "I'm not used to eating alone. In my family, food is meant to be shared. Especially with people you don't know, or people who need a little boost to their spirits."
She grinned at Ginny, licking her spoon rather inelegantly. Romilda had manners, but when it came to ice cream, what was the point? She didn't want her guest to stand on ceremony, either. "Just good timing that I had ice cream to share when I noticed that you seemed a bit down, really."