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Jan. 26th, 2016 at 11:27 AM
It could have been worse. Rey didn't like thinking that--it seemed like an open invitation, it felt like she was all but begging for things to get worse--but it really could have been much worse. Being stuck somewhere was nothing new to Rey, though in the past it had been mostly her own choice to stay in one place, waiting for something to happen that never would. She didn't like being trapped, of course, did anyone like being trapped?
Still, it could've been worse. She had a place to sleep (which usually meant the floor of her room; the bed was so just too soft, but it was a warm room and a sturdy roof over her head) and best of all, she was fed. Every day. Several times a day. And it was given to her without her having to spend hours risking life and limb for scraps of twisted metal to trade for it, and usually it was more than a few mouthfuls.
Yes, the restaurant was Rey's favorite place, without question, but often it presented a dilemma: she didn't know what a lot of things on the menu even were. Often, her method of choosing something to eat was to close her eyes and jab at an option with her finger. So far it yielded some interesting results. One day she was given a platter full of what had once been the spiny legs of a crab (whatever that was). It had taken her hours of fighting the carapaces open to crack through the shells and strip out the meat inside of them; by the time she was done she felt like she'd waged a very small war. Then, there was the bowl of some pearly white grains and vegetables in a wonderfully fragrant sauce--that hadn't been particularly strange as far as the food itself, but instead of a fork or spoon she was given two sticks and her requests for any sort of cutlery had been ignored (to be fair, that hadn't presented nearly as much of a problem as the crab's legs, since she'd just tipped the bowl up and used the sticks to shovel the grains into her mouth, and while that had earned her some odd looks from fellow diners at least that day Rey had left the restaurant happily full and without nicks and scratches on her fingertips and knuckles).
Today's experiment was burnt cream, and it was without question her most favorite yet. After her first bite she'd had to work hard to pace herself and not stab through the hard bit on the top to just scoop it all out in big spoonfuls. It might have been the most delicious thing she'd ever tasted, so she took her time with it, small bite after small bite.
Still, it could've been worse. She had a place to sleep (which usually meant the floor of her room; the bed was so just too soft, but it was a warm room and a sturdy roof over her head) and best of all, she was fed. Every day. Several times a day. And it was given to her without her having to spend hours risking life and limb for scraps of twisted metal to trade for it, and usually it was more than a few mouthfuls.
Yes, the restaurant was Rey's favorite place, without question, but often it presented a dilemma: she didn't know what a lot of things on the menu even were. Often, her method of choosing something to eat was to close her eyes and jab at an option with her finger. So far it yielded some interesting results. One day she was given a platter full of what had once been the spiny legs of a crab (whatever that was). It had taken her hours of fighting the carapaces open to crack through the shells and strip out the meat inside of them; by the time she was done she felt like she'd waged a very small war. Then, there was the bowl of some pearly white grains and vegetables in a wonderfully fragrant sauce--that hadn't been particularly strange as far as the food itself, but instead of a fork or spoon she was given two sticks and her requests for any sort of cutlery had been ignored (to be fair, that hadn't presented nearly as much of a problem as the crab's legs, since she'd just tipped the bowl up and used the sticks to shovel the grains into her mouth, and while that had earned her some odd looks from fellow diners at least that day Rey had left the restaurant happily full and without nicks and scratches on her fingertips and knuckles).
Today's experiment was burnt cream, and it was without question her most favorite yet. After her first bite she'd had to work hard to pace herself and not stab through the hard bit on the top to just scoop it all out in big spoonfuls. It might have been the most delicious thing she'd ever tasted, so she took her time with it, small bite after small bite.