He copied how she cut into the omelet, putting it on top of the fluffy white rice. Then the spoon entered his mouth.
Every mimic in the kitchen craned closer, as though the verdict of their whole faction rested in this single chew.
The Lieutenant's jaw worked slowly. His scar pulled faintly as he tasted. Then his throat shifted in a deliberate swallow. For a long time, he didn't move or speak.
Marron was worried he'd just died with his eyes open.
But then, he dipped the spoon back onto the plate.
A second bite vanished. Then a third.
Marron's Mimicry skill made her face twitch and flinch as she tried her best not to project her nervousness. Her lips were fixed in a faint smile that didn't reach her eyes, and her whole body felt like it was pulled taut, like a guitar string wound much too tight.
Don't look too relieved. Forget about sighing or breathing deep.
