Or rotted papaya. Well, Gellert had to concede that that was every bit as likely as his own estimate. "The fun is in the risk," he said, fixing a disapproving look to his expression. He paused for a moment, then slipped the bean between his own lips. "See?" he said, after he had finished chewing and swallowed. "It was lychee. Perfectly ripe, and perfectly delicious."
Not that Gellert expected that to change Albus's mind. After several seconds he let out of a soft, quiet sigh and leaned back against one of the footposts of Albus's bed, scooping a handful of candy out of the bag and setting to the slightly unsavoury task of picking through them. He'd bring the more promisingly coloured beans to his mouth and nibble at their edges, testing each flavour one by one.
Maybe there was something to be said for Albus's desire to avoid the risk, Gellert thought as he progressed. He'd always been under the impression that there were an even number of pleasingly and displeasingly-flavoured beans per bag, but everything he ate today seemed to be something along the lines of jalapeno or cheese or tree bark. He held up a brilliantly yellow bean. Probably urine. Grotesque. But Gellert bit off a corner nonetheless and found himself pleasantly surprised at the sour taste that stung the tip of his tongue.
He glanced up at Albus once more, holding the single bean aloft. "How do you feel about tart flavours?" he asked.