Tuck opened up his reaper sauce and he started drowning his breakfast in it. “He’s right. I got all the fixings to make you fried chicken and waffles. Will said that was what you would want. Real maple syrup and cinnamon waffles, and hand battered chicken.”
Elijah looked up at them in between bites and he shook his head. “The both of you are- I did tell Will that was what I wanted. He actually remembered? And you’re going to make it happen? I- I don’t even know how to- I’d forgotten. That people can be good. Are you- Are you going to shit blood later?” he asked Tuck, referring to the mass of hot sauce. And he had just been super vulnerable so covering it up at the end was helpful, at least to him.
“I have an iron constitution,” Tuck laughed. He took a big bite, and didn’t even flinch.
“Dear god,” Elijah said in wonder. He reached out to pluck the bottle off the table, took one sniff, and coughed in horror as his eyes immediately watered. “Jesus christ!”