Camilla, after a long moment of deliberate consideration, bypassed the safe, mild options on the board and reached for the blue.
She broke off a crumb. She placed it on her tongue with the grave, meticulous caution of a queen evaluating a potentially poisoned diplomatic gift.
Her crimson eyes fluttered shut.
"...Oh."
Sophie leaned forward, her pulse practically vibrating against her collarbone. "Good?"
"Good." Camilla opened her eyes, her expression utterly deadpan. "There is a mold inside it."
"On purpose!"
"On purpose."
"It's the whole point," Sophie explained earnestly, gesturing to the wedge. "The mold is the flavor."
Camilla stared at the crumbled blue cheese lingering on her fingertips. It was the quiet, profound reassessment of a woman who had just realized she had been handed a fungus-contaminated dairy product, and was somehow expected to consider this a culinary triumph.
"...This is the kind of thing the modern world does, I see."
