breakfast

Blood sizzled in the pan. Cooking with blood added smoke to the meal, let the taste of char seep into the meat and for Voe, the deeper the taste got the better. Sleep evaded him, so much so that not even Otho had been roused to accompany him to the kitchen, which the Drake-hound was not...

There was always somethin about finding one of Lucy's eggs hidden away neath one of the countless nooks and hideyholes the old hen liked to roost in, aboard the Lucky Star. A regular ol' game of chance. Was it good? Had it spoiled? No way of really knowing from the outside. Less you floated it...