Prompt 003: "Wheatley discovers that he has a favorite food."
Wheatley has come to terms with the fact that he has to consume food several times a day to keep his body going. It's just another form of maintenance, he thinks. Nothing too terrible. And really, it's not a particularly difficult thing to accept. Food tastes tremendous.
It's like there was a thick film over everything when he was a personality core. Emotions and sensations were simulated, and therefore limited. This, on the other hand, is the real deal. Film peeled off, flayed open, everything amplified one thousand fold.
"Hey, I—oh, sorry. Didn't see the book. I know you're probably busy and I don't mean to bother you or anything, but, quick question: Is it lunchtime yet?"
Wheatley has also developed a habit of constantly asking Chell about mealtimes. He can't help it, though. She's an excellent cook. And he should know: they've gotten dinner from other places a few times. He's quite certain no one else's food compares to Chell's.
She pauses, glancing up from the pages, and gives him a pointed look. Brow slightly raised, mouth pinched at the corners, eyes narrowed.
It's a rather obvious no.
"Oh," says Wheatley. He rubs the back of his neck and leans in closer to her on the couch. "Well, um, could we start early then? It's about eleven-thirty. Almost noon. Or that's what the clock says. It might be a bit off. But my stomach's starting to make those weird noises, and it'll probably start to hurt soon. So, if we could just… have it now, that would be amazing."
Chell puts down her book, and with a heavy sigh, she gets up and pads across the den to the kitchen. Wheatley bounds off the sofa with a grin and trails along right behind her.
Popping the fridge open, she reaches in and pulls out a small plastic box filled with round, bright red berries about the size of a quarter. He hovers over her shoulder as she takes it to the sink, opens it, and begins to rinse each individual berry under the running faucet. Each has a small green tuft of leaves at its top.
After she's finished, she picks one up between her thumb and forefinger, holding the tuft, and brings it up to his lips.
The smell is—oh—divine. Sweet, somewhat earthy; enough to make his mouth water. Tentatively, he opens up and bites down on the offered berry.
It's so much sweeter than it smells. Wheatley's tongue feels like he's dipped it in a vat of sugar. The cool juice is running down his lip and chin and he leans in and cups her hand to take another bite because wow, this tastes incredible!
"God, why didn't you let me try these before?" asks Wheatley, tongue darting out to lick up the liquid left behind. He's still holding onto her hand, thin fingers enveloping hers. "Have you been keeping them from me? Because if you have, I definitely see why. Wow. They're just—I don't even know where to start."
Chell looks amused. She reaches for the counter with her free hand to procure another strawberry from the batch.
"I hope you know that box is going to be gone in a few minutes," says Wheatley.
She holds another out for him.
"Seriously, I'm not joking."
He sinks his teeth in, and true to his word, he devours the whole box.