She's actually taking a break, just sitting on a stack of crates by the kitchen door and watching the sun set, chin resting on her skinny palms. When Théo arrives, he receives a small, tired smirk of greeting, and Fifi angles her head toward him.
"Well they're magical in Orlais," she replies, "or.... not... possessable, anyway. Life-giving. You know how they say." She gladly takes the side and bites into it, chewing thoughtfully. "If there is a worm, I shall make it sorry it chose this apple."
"Chewed up and spit out for trying to feed itself," Théo says, pressing a hand to his chest in pantomime sympathy. "Next we will have the Freeworms of the Apples."
o hi
"Well they're magical in Orlais," she replies, "or.... not... possessable, anyway. Life-giving. You know how they say." She gladly takes the side and bites into it, chewing thoughtfully. "If there is a worm, I shall make it sorry it chose this apple."
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Like so.
He chews and swallows before he speaks again, with some modicum of manners.
“How are they treating you?”
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"The elder Asgard has asked me to be their head maid. Which would take me away from the Inquisition, but only in a sense."
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He's hilarious.
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"Smell, I wish," she decides, "Kirkwall certainly has an aroma to it."