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"Hm, I think a nice tomato and lettuce sandwich would be good for you." Yung was laying on his stomach, one arm holding his head up. "Me personally, I wouldn't mind a soul or two for a snack." Yung's eyes turned a complete black,

It might be time to run...

*Yoink*

"Here you go buddy, a whole bucket of KFC. Now you can act like you're a dinosaur. RAWWWWWW!!"

"Judging from the photos I've managed to find of you, it appears in one of the pictures of you, you attempted to lick your sword?" Diastema adjusts his glasses, "That isn't very good for you, you could accidentally hurt yourself." He frowned. "Why not try something a little more...not sharp and metal to eat?" The dentist suggests. "Here, have a lollipop, it's a sugar-free one." He holds it out to Elaine.

Despite the doll being incapable of eating, Patches always seemed to carry some kind of tasty snack on them. Why would it do this, if it couldn't eat them, you ask? Well, that's why they're here.

Moseying forward with poorly-coordinated footsteps, an eerily long arm reached for the zipper at their chest. Patches took a moment to unzip it and dig inside their pouch. Numerous hard candies fell out- all of them sugary, surely to be any dentist's worst nightmare.

Patches was oblivious to this and swept the candies over to the dentist anyway, the other arm reaching for the string on their back. "Patches brought you trrrrrreeeeats, New-Friend! Heeheehee."

"Aw hey lil'fella!" Spongebob knelt down to look at Patches. Spongebob pulled out a Krabby Patty from his pocket and put it in front of them.

"Here you go; a fresh Krabby Patty! I cooked it myself." Spongebob grinned, his two gap tooth showing.

"Now, come again, will ya- what did they name ye, boy?" Mad Madina growled with a voice sour of disbelief, doubling up on the wrinkles on her face with a scowl intense enough to scare off a sand drake. "Mean gags I've seen in my time, but naming ye young'uns like that, plain cruel that'd be. Gods help ya, boy." Shaking her head, the old gunslinger then cleared her throat, looking down on this so-called 'Spongebob Squarepants' kid with stern eyes. Groping into the belted pouch on her hip, she produced three rectangular, crinkled yellow strips from the dusty leather bag. "Ya do got a sea-like smell about ye, though, so I'd reckon you'd enjoy these. Sundried yarrfish jerky, should keep ya goin' through this sorry life of yers. Don't doubt ye're gonna need it on a revenge queste on ya folks, for namin' ya that." With a gruff hum, she turned around, the tails of her overcoat fluttering in the breeze. "Don't go puttin' it between any of those sketchy bums now, ya hear? Too salty. Need to rinse it and eat it by the piece, or dehydration'll leave ya at the mercy of the suns. And trust me, boy, they'll have even less an ounce of mercy than whoever gave ya that godsforsaken jest of a name." Spongebob Squarepants, bah, what'd the world been comin' to.. Disgruntled by the absurdity of it all, Mad Madina turned to the next player.

The giant of a man chuckled as Madina turned to him. He pulled out a bundle wrapped in cheesecloth, rolled up into a neat package. "A traveler like me needs some quality rations. This is what I usually have on the ship; It has some dry-aged caribou, hardtack, and some mixed nuts, berries, and dried fruits and vegetables. It may not be the most flavorful thing on this earth, especially if it is compared to freshly cooked food, but it's always comforting for me." After he handed the bundle to Madina, he turned on his heel to the next person in this odd line of sorts.

With his white-and-red cane stuffed under his armpit, Taeyong was holding a paper cup in one hand and a cheesy-looking skewer in the other, about to take a bite. Then he paused as he listened to the others.

"I'm supposed to what now?"

A leporine ear swiveled towards Asbjorn as he regarded the situation.

"Oh, I see. I see how it is." A sigh followed as he put the skewer back into the cup, then held it out in Asbjorn's direction. He didn't meet him in the eye, though Taeyong's own seemed rather foggy. "Here. You need a hot meal? It's cheese tteok-kkochi - grilled mozzarella and rice cakes. Probably odd for your diet, but I hope it doesn't get you sick. And don't worry about me, I'll buy another one."

His last sentence carried a sing-song tone of mild annoyance. Perhaps he could help himself to whatever was next to be served to him. . . provided he could have it.

What was more embarrassing than having unexpected guests? Not having anything immediate to serve them. There was the stare- you hungry? I bet you're hungry. 'Cuz I'm starved. Marty had never been the greatest host, perhaps ironic since she often provided temporary housing to wandering ghouls and the like. She should have been prepared for anyone and anything to drop by at any given time; alas, Marty had never been known for thinking ahead and making preparations. The look she gave the rabbit-eared man was a vacant one, tinted slightly red- be it by a lack of sleep or a haze-addled mind. A bit of both perhaps. Sluggishly, she shuffled her way to the fridge, bunny slippers flopping pitifully with each lazy lift of her legs.

"Before you ask, no, I don't eat the souls of the damned. So you ain't got nuthin' to worry about, Hopps. I won't subject you to a morally questionable meal. Unless you know uh- that's your diet. I'm sure we can... figure something out. Probably." Opening the steel safe haven, the demoness peered in, breathing in the frost and the lingering scent of overripe fruits. She didn't feel like going shopping today, so her company would have to make do with whatever atrocity was lingering in the forgotten depths of the fridge. "I've got some uh...." Martyr grabbed at a clear soup container, the contents barely recognizable. "Leftover takeout. Or at least what I think was takeout?" She couldn't remember the last time she had takeout. She popped the lid off and gave the Tupperware a good whiff. "Y'up wonton soup." She looked over a shoulder, eyeing the man. This was no meal for a guy like him- all well groomed and such. He probably ate caviar as cereal or something. Ah, well, he'd have to settle for the... uh... soup. "The wontons are a little swollen, but I'm sure it's fine. Prolly still tastes the same." There was little assurance to those words, but the imp tried to summon the mirth to make them sound believable. This guy looked blind anyway, it's not like he needed to know what the food looked like. "And uh, if you feel like the soup might give you the you-know-whats- I've got some Pepto in the bathroom medicine cabinet. Just like- just in case."

Marty is possibly subjecting poor Gyeon Taeyong to food poisoning. Sorry buddy. Enjoy your mystery soup and Pepto Bismol.

Fumizuki leaves a cupcake out on a plate for the person above her.

He gave her some cheeburger sliders and fries.

Jinxx rummages through their pantry to look for snack to give Mathius. They pull out a few bags of sour candy and hold them out to him.
"I got Sour Patch Kids, gummy worms, Skittles, and some Mike And Ikes. Take your pick."

Alan took a moment to process the person who he was looking at, blinking a few times slowly before running a hand through his messy, black hair.

"You're hungry? C'mon..." While the rockstar was usually upbeat and ready to take on the world, he was still trying to wake up from the long night he had before. After all, songs weren't going to write themselves.

Rummaging through his cabinets he finally found the stash he usually kept around for his friends, knowing all too well that a simple coffee and a piece of toast wasn't going to cut it.

"A monster and some poptarts good enough?" He cocked an eyebrow.

"I'd make you breakfast but I haven't been shopping just yet." His voice almost sounded embarrassed that he didn't have more to offer. "We could always order something but you should probably get something in your stomach before it starts to ache." Setting the treats down infront of them, he pulled out his phone. "Lets fix that grumbling stomach." Giving a light smile, he awaited their answer.

Her eyes looked over him, from the mess of dark hair on his head to the tiredness set into his face, she didn't know him so she could only make assumptions but she had a feeling she knew the type, worked too hard and partied harder. Angel and Romeo were the same, the Sarge worked the three of them to the bone and the boys blew of steam for every other second they were awake.

With a slight shake of her head she moved to the open kitchen space in the clubhouse, digging through cupboards, methodically pulling things out whilst saying nothing to the rocker, her eyes glanced at him, an occasional check in before she continued to work, a stoic silence to her, face pale and almost like marble the expression was so stony, other than a small warmth in her eyes, in the slight upward turn at the edge of her mouth.

Merrick started to cook breakfast, English style with tomatoes mushrooms and eggs frying away in pans, bacon and sausages slowly crisping whilst bread was toasting under the grill. There is a calm familiarity with the way she cooks, a competency in what she is doing which allows her movements to be causal, almost muscle memory. "What do you want on your plate ? you should take your pick now before the others come in and all hell breaks loose, nothing worse than a load of hungry bikers."

There was a rumble of deep laughter- warm, like a friendly embrace- titanic, like a crack of lightning across a still sky. Jolting in every right, but it clearly meant no harm. Bertha moved in a slow rhythm, stooping occasionally to avoid an unwanted tangle with overhead décor.

Her guest was eyed with great care, assessing every detail ranging from her presentation, to the aura of strength she emitted. A good innkeeper could look at a patron and be able to tell exactly what they needed the moment they came through the door. Having been in the tavern business for decades now, Bertha liked to think of herself as a skilled businesswoman. This woman looked famished. Bertha waved the lady closer with a cloven hoof, and motioned for her to take a seat at the bar.

"Look at ye! Yer 'bout as big as a new spring lamb, ya' are!" The blonde was visibly fit, but compared to the behemoth that was Bertha, she was such an itty-bitty thing. "We'll have'ta get some meat on them bones of yer's, missy." The bovine gave the woman a playful nudge with her elbow before lapsing into typical barkeeper conversation. "What do ya do fer a livin', if ya don't mind me askin'? When's the last time ya had a good home-cooked meal?" She asked, as she disappeared into a room behind the bar- a kitchen, presumably. There was the gentle clatter of pans and metal utensils being moved around, before the woman called out again; "Ye got a bevvy of choice, miss? A spiced mead to warm yer belly? Or maybeh a glass of water if yer parched?" Eventually the large cryptid would reappear, a tankard clasped in a hoof, sloshing to the brim with something undoubtedly warm and sweet. The other hoof balanced a tray with fresh breads, a steaming bowl of stew, and a side of salted meats. "Don't worreh about payin' dear, this one's on the house."

The group stared for a moment, each of them silent.

Finally Kit spoke, "The hell is that, and what's it talking about-"

He was hushed by Eden, "Quiet, now, Kit."

"I think it's a lady." Paris tilted his head slightly, "I think, maybe?"

"Forget you, you're all useless." London grumbled, "Come on, then. Go find a seat to wait, I'll cook. How does Honey Ham, mashed potatoes, corn, and root beer sound? If it doesn't sound good enough, too bad. I'm working with what we have."

Lexi takes a moment to observe the group standing before her. She then clasps her hands together, a friendly smile on her face.
"Alright, what are we up for today?"
She looks through a cabinet in her kitchen, filled with an assortment of alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks alike.
"I have some champagne if you're up for it. Or some sparkling juice if you're not in the mood for alcohol. My partner's never been fond of it, so I always make sure to get some non-alcoholic drinks for them."
She puts out a bottle of champagne and sparkling grape juice in front of the group, as well as some wine glasses and a small bowl of ice cubes.
"Feel free to help yourself! Now then, what should we do for food... "
She then goes to her fridge and freezer, looking through its contents.
"I'll admit, I'm not much of a cook.. I do make some pretty good filet mignon, though! I could also make something a bit more substantial if you're particularly hungry."

"You..remind me of Lizzy." Ciel squinted his lonely eye. "Well, if you're anything like Lizzy, she loves food that looks cute. Usually small foods, or foods made to look like something like an animal or something." He added.

He ordered Sebastian to cook and bring Lexi a pancake that looked like a rabbit. "Here you are."

He made Ciel up a plate of French-style chocolate creme stuffed pastries and a glass of cold milk.

"Creme pastries for a.......Ciel Phantomhive.....at the pass"

He ducked back into the kitchen.

To insinuate Schrödinger should share his food, was a crime in and of itself. What was worse, was to imply that insinuation was the good thing to do. The gentlemanly thing.

The cat was a gentleman wasn't he? Was he not a good boy? Why, of course he was. What kind of silly questions were those?

Schrödinger sat at the feet of the cosmic visitor, with a treat pressed between his paws and his tiny mouth working away at whatever he was in possession of. Snack cakes, it seemed, but the confectionary was so mutilated beyond recognition, it was almost impossible to tell what it once was. He stared up at the stranger, chewing thoughtfully.

The man looked hungry, he decided; and he figured that maybe if he fed the man, the fellow would give him something better to eat in return. That was how these things worked, right? After a long moment of vacant staring and chewing, he would begrudgingly reach a paw up in a gesture of offering. "Eat." He'd wave the was-probably-a-cake, in the air to get the man to take it.

Hopefully Mathius didn't mind cat hair in his cream.