"Or rotted papaya," he countered. In this instance, with this candy, curiosity held no sway. There was plenty of candy that was delightful in its own right, and Albus was perfectly content to discover them, instead.
And it wasn't simply the dreadful taste that he had no desire to relive, it was the entirety of the circumstance. It was that pre-twilight gold that filled the sky. It was being tucked against the tree near the lake behind his home in Godric's Hollow, try to both read and talk to Gellert at the same time while also endeavouring to highlight some point in Gellet's book. It was Gellert smiling, his eyes too bright and too sharp, everything about him seemingly just a bit more than his body could peaceably contain. It was Gellert drawing entirely too close to slip one of those candies between his lips, then laughing altogether too much as Albus groaned and coughed and promptly spat the foul thing out. And it was Gellert, smoothing Albus's hair neatly once more before, still laughing a little, resting his head against Albus's shoulder.
No. Albus didn't care for Every Flavour Beans at all.
He didn't quite appreciate the way Gellert seemed to be coming closer, again, but Gellert halted before he was actually crawling on top of Albus, so he found little ground to protest. It would hardly do, after all, to seem insatiably paranoid.
"Some rewards are well worth the risk of the search. These," he said with dismissive gesture toward the bag, "are most certainly not."