Marron moved toward the gleaming knives, her mind racing, when inspiration struck. She turned back to the Captain with careful composure.
"Actually," she said, "I still have some duskbeast meat in my coldbox. Gifted to me by the Lord Jackal's son himself. It was slain in its prime
It's properly aged, well-marbled. The flavor profile could complement the sliced golden potatoes than..." she glanced meaningfully at Elena. "butchering fresh meat."
She thought it was a reasonable (and in some cases, most comparable) compromise. However, she witnessed The Captain's face darken, and he made a clicking noise with his borrowed mouth. "That simply won't do, chef. This recipe specifically calls for fresh meat. The fear and adrenaline--that's what gives the meal its potency."
"But it's still good meat," Marron pressed gently. "And the dungeon needs to be fed, doesn't it? Shouldn't we use what we have before..." She let the sentence hang.
