[The cat purring now that it got what it wanted, Dorian slides over so he can partially lean against Judas as they eat. This is part pure affection, part deliberate effort to keep Judas's attention more on Dorian than on the (cost of the) food.] I'm pleased. It was very interesting learning about the kinds of herbs that are still mainly used locally. I'd never even heard of hyssop before I started consuming Middle Eastern cuisine.
Really? I'm surprised it hasn't been exported more. It's great for medicine, too. But I guess there are plenty of herbs and spices that only really lend well to one sort of cooking.
You'll have to give me favourite recipes to make for you. Even as it's come to light you can cook for yourself. It's still better having someone else do it for you. Especially for simply wanting to...
[Folding a piece of beef in half, Judas decides to use it to scoop up the ful in place of bread.]
[He is masking his delight at Judas actually eating the beef.]
Ugh, well, I can tell you I won't be asking for much English. My country does not have a reputation for fine dining, and there is a reason for it. Some of the ingredients of my favourite may, I'm afraid, be hard to come by. [Like caviar, probably. What an asshole.]
I'm sure I can make a lobster trap. [He's sure that indicates expensive taste, and really what else would he expect from Dorian. Lobster is the first thing to come to mind as an expensive ingredient.] This is much better than what I'm used to.
[Dorian presses his lips together to avoid laughing, then grabs himself an apricot.] What matters is that it suits your tastes. I assume you weren't living off of ambrosia up in Heaven, if you're willing to accept this.
[Dorian feels a lurch in his stomach. Instead of responding to it appropriately, he claps his hand over Judas's mouth.] You're only allowed to use your mouth to praise my food or eat it. You're not starting on that now. For twenty four hours, all the normal laws are suspended. Understood?
[Surprised and caught off guard, Judas flinches, blinking at Dorian.] ...Sorry. Yes. [He hangs his head.]
...Wait, only to praise your food or eat it? Am I allowed to speak otherwise? Or any other use? [Namely kissing him but no it's too much to go ahead and say.]
If you weren't, you'd be in violation right now. [He relaxes enough to go back to picking at his food.] So yes, you can speak about other things, as long as those things are not negating or denying food.
[And then he pauses, and his expression slides into a smile.] And I suppose the rest depends on what other uses you have in mind.
[Dorian puts his hands in Judas's hair, tugging down the locks.] Oh, I don't know. In the right clothing, and with your hair down just so, I think you could get away with it.
Ah, so that's what you like is it? Feminine men? You should have seen when we had a year go by. When we woke up, I had hair to my waist, and Jesus and Biff had beards to their chests.
[Releasing Judas's hair, Dorian laughs with delight.] I would have loved to have seen that. And taken a photograph or two. I'm sure you were all three of you very charming.
It was really embarrassing. We were all in bed together, somehow. I think Biff called is beauty queens, even. So while I'm sure you would have found it hilarious, the more I think about it, the more I'm glad you didn't.
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(He killed the cow himself, it was traumatic.)]
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[Folding a piece of beef in half, Judas decides to use it to scoop up the ful in place of bread.]
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Ugh, well, I can tell you I won't be asking for much English. My country does not have a reputation for fine dining, and there is a reason for it. Some of the ingredients of my favourite may, I'm afraid, be hard to come by. [Like caviar, probably. What an asshole.]
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[Saint Young Men is a comedy, sorry Dorian.]
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...Wait, only to praise your food or eat it? Am I allowed to speak otherwise? Or any other use? [Namely kissing him but no it's too much to go ahead and say.]
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[And then he pauses, and his expression slides into a smile.] And I suppose the rest depends on what other uses you have in mind.
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[With another little jump, he rubs his neck.] Anything, I don't know.
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[Dorian is pleased to have one. Celebratory apricot! He kicks out his legs.] Mm, well, I can't say what's allowed if I don't know what you intend.
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i didn't want to write this tag
Dorian Gray has Bad views
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