#anywhere

Necropsis staggers out his bedroom, at, FUCK, is it 3 in the damn morning? Rubbing at his eyes, he makes his way past the throne room on his way to the kitchen. Thank the Dreaming he's wearing pants, more like shorts really, and just that. The scrawny but muscled man is cursing, not really expecting anyone else to be up at this time, "Who the fuck wants salsa and pickles? Bitch be crazy. Waking my black ass up at holy shit o clock? I want a sammich? WHo's the man around here? FUking wanna know" and yet for all his griping, here is up at 3 in morning off to do it.

Making his way to the kitchen, he opens it, "Yo, Shirefucks! Get your hobbit asses to wo-" But the boggans are still asleep. He begins to cuss anew

Well, it would appear that the kitchenstaff will not be here to bully. Doesn't matter, half the time they get the order wrong anyway. Reaching into the fridge, he makes sure there are pickles. Good. Pickles, Salsa..and..." SHit"

Did she say Dill, or Sweet?

If he takes the Dills, and she wants Sweet, he gets his ass chewed on, and not in the funway. If he takes the sweet, and she wants dill. the same. Now, a smart pooka might normally get some of both! Put em on the opposing sides, let her pick. Necropsis groans. But smart pooka are dealing with sane truehearts. He can picture it now " Don't you furking know me?" and tears. Damn he'd rather be shot than get tears

But a fifty fifty is a gamble. Wincing, he prepares two small trays, one of sweet, one of Dills. And...he acts like one of them is for her, the other for him...she'll snatch which ever one she wants. Of course, he'll have to eat the other now "Mutherfucker usedd to be such a proud ambition"

He gets the salsa bottle, and the two dishes and heads back towards the bedroom. "Don't even like pickles, look like shriveled goblin dicks.."

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