”Mm, maybe,” Melinda admitted, meeting Bill’s flash of a smile with one of her own. “But my mum is a pastry chef and my dad’s an apothecary so we’re not exactly wilderness people. So, doing things like these,” she took the proffered treat from him with a smile, letting her fingers brush over his, “well…” For a moment, she watched as the chocolate melted under the gooey marshmallow. “Making a joconde imprime with my mum, drawing fun shapes and doodles and animals with the biscuit dough and baking them so they could be baked into the contrasting dough, that’s… those are the pâtissiers’ version of a smore. And then I’d go exploring in the greenhouses,” she added with a self-deprecating chuckle. She knew she was a city girl, even though she wasn’t scared of getting dirty.
Holding up the smore, she looked at it, turning it this way and that, trying to figure out the best way to bite from it. Finally, she decided to just try. However, the small bite that she attempted just resulted in her biting off a tiny bit of cracker as the deliciously gooey filling bled out of the other side, and when she tried to save that, she ended up licking the heel of her hand and smearing the sticky goo on the side of her chin. “Gods,” she laughed delightedly as she tried to wipe away the chocolate, only to end up smearing more elsewhere. “This is so good and I’m failing miserably at it.”