"I have wonderful news for you," said Dr. Wright as he stepped lightly into Chef Kawasaki's room in the infirmary. "Breakfast went well."

"Good," Kawasaki exhaled. "That's very good."

Dr. Wright smiled and inclined his head. "Rest assured, lunch will go as smoothly as breakfast did."

"Okay. Great. Good to know."

…

"What?"

"I'm just…" Kawasaki gesticulated with his stubby arms, looking for the right words. "I can't help but worry, is all. I've never been away from the kitchen for this long. I feel like… like they don't quite know. Like, know how to get it right. There's a method."

"And I feel like you're underestimating them," replied Dr. Wright. "They've done and seen things that you wouldn't believe."

"I've done and seen things you wouldn't believe."

"True, true." Dr. Wright shrugged. "But my point still stands. Despite their eclectic origins and… admittedly conflicting ways of life, they are still quite capable. This will not be hard."

"One-two! Jab! Jab! Hit 'em hard! Keep the pressure on!"

Knuckles the Echidna slammed the punching bag with all his might. The chains that mounted it to the ceiling creaked as it flew, swinging back to him with an audible whoosh. He quickly raised his fists to catch it as it pivoted back towards him, then fired off another left hook.

As he continued to pummel the bag, his mind began to wander. He thought of his home, Angel Island, wondering if it was safe in his absence. His thoughts turned to the many days he had spent in isolation guarding the Master Emerald. A shiver went up his spine as he thought of the massive gem, sitting alone and vulnerable on the island. What if Eggman were to help himself to it while he was away?

"Dodge! Uppercut! Feel the burn!"

Knuckles took a calming breath. He quickly sidestepped and struck the punching bag with a vicious uppercut. He remembered the words Master Hand had said to him on the day of orientation.

I assure you, Knuckles, I will personally see to it that the Master Emerald will be safe in your absence… Make no mistake of that…

The echidna frowned as the bag swung back towards him. "Yeah, it better be," he mumbled as he swung at the bag again.

"Ah, excuse me. Knuckles?"

Knuckles stopped swinging at mention of his name. Dr. Wright was standing in the doorway, his face impassive as it was when there was business to be done. In spite of his somewhat short stature and tall green hair, he certainly carried the impression of a serious, but earnest businessman.

This tone lasted for all of three seconds before a small starfish shuffled out from behind him. He waved excitedly upon making eye contact with the echidna. "Hi, Knuckles!"

Knuckles knelt down to bump fists with Starfy. "'Sup, little man." He straightened up to meet Dr. Wright's gaze. "So, whatcha need?"

Dr. Wright hummed as he tapped his clipboard. "Lunch is soon. You and Starfy should report to the kitchen. Ghirahim and Dr. Wily should be there already."

"Right, will do," replied the echidna. "C'mon, Starf, let's get moving." He and Starfy left the training room behind and set off for the kitchen.

The two of them walked down the hall, Knuckles loping along with Starfy toddling right behind him. The sun hung languidly in the sky, the clouds drifting steadily by.

"Hey, Knuckles?" asked Starfy. "Have you ever cooked before?"

Knuckles paused for a brief moment. "Only once," he answered, continuing his walk. "Where I'm from, you can get by pretty easily without cooking if you know where to look."

"Oh." said Starfy. He paused for a moment. "I can't cook, either. Mom says I might get hurt. With all the knives and hot things and stuff."

"Yeah, it can be dangerous if you're not careful," replied Knuckles, thinking back to a time when Amy had tried to help him bake a cake and he had nearly burnt down a portion of the jungle. "But luckily for us, Kawasaki's probably got that place set up, so we should be fine."

"Oh, okay!" The information put a noticeable bounce in Starfy's step. "...So, what are we gonna cook today?"

Knuckles furrowed his brow. "Well, from what Shadow n' Lyn told me, Kawasaki left us a menu to pick from. Prolly we'll find out when we get there."

"Are we gonna make chicken nuggets?" asked Starfy. "I like chicken nuggets."

"I don't know if there's gonna be chicken nuggets, Starf," replied Knuckles, coming to a stop in front of the kitchen door. "But hey, looks like we're about to find out."

Evidently, the two of them were late, for the moment Knuckles pushed the door open, he spotted Dr. Wily and Ghirahim, just by one of the stoves. There was a tension in the air, not like a heated argument had just taken place, but like someone had been publicly admonished. Upon noticing the arrivals, the two straightened up, acting as casually as possible.

Knuckles stopped in the doorway. "Hey," he greeted, rather lamely.

Starfy popped out from behind him. "Hi!" he chirped, much more enthusiastically.

Dr. Wily, evidently a bit thrown by their entrance, cleared his throat and adjusted his tie under his apron. "Ah, yes. Good afternoon."

Ghirahim said nothing at first, but after an overt look from the doctor, he at last complied. "Ugh, fine," he groaned, staring down his nose at Knuckles and Starfy. "Hello, I suppose."

Knuckles frowned, taking a hairnet from the dispenser nearby. It was far too early for this to go to rack and ruin. "So, what're we gonna make today?" he asked.

"Well, someone's all business today," said Ghirahim, taking out a menu with a flourish. "At least some of us have their sense. Yes, I've decided that we're going to make a Hylian meat and rice dish with a roasted beet salad on the side." He glanced over the menu again. "Ooh, tiramisu! That will make a fine dessert!"

"You've decided?" The look of suspicion was plain on the echidna's face. "Just the two of you, without us?"

"It pays to be on time, Knuckles," fired back Dr. Wily, a safe distance away. "Besides, did you have a different suggestion?"

Knuckles' eyes narrowed even further. He glanced down at Starfy, inching closer to him. Nope, still way too early. "Fine. Whaddya want me to do first?"

"You can start," began Wily, "by getting the boar meat from the freezer so we can clean it. And at least try not to dawdle."

"Sirloin, if you please," called Ghirahim.

Stubbornness blazed in Knuckles' chest at Wily's patronizing tone, and his fists clenched. But the sound of Starfy's footsteps tapping towards the meat freezer reminded him, once again, that now was not the time. So he settled for a "Yeah, sure, whatever," as he trudged after him.

A blast of frosty air greeted Knuckles as he swung open the door. Starfy had already made his way to the far end of the freezer, tugging at a packet of frozen meat resting on a shelf.

Or, at least, Starfy was trying to. The packet was almost as big as he was, and, judging by how it barely moved an inch despite his efforts, most likely weighed as much as well.

Sighing, Knuckles lifted the packet off the shelf just as Starfy readied for one more pull. "Well, you managed to find the…" He wrinkled his nose as he read the label. "Water buffalo ribs…? Pretty sure the boar meat's over there."

Loaded up with the correct meat, the two of them walked back into the main kitchen (leaving the meat freezer behind, Knuckles hoped). Once again, that friction from when they first arrived made itself known, smoldering like a bonfire. Dr. Wily in particular was hunched over a drawer, pretending to carefully search through its contents. Ghirahim was nowhere to be seen.

Knuckles cleared his throat. Dr. Wily whirled around, and the tension cleared like it was never there. "Oh, it's… it's you," said the doctor. "Do you have the cuts or not?"

They did, in fact, have the cuts, as evidenced when Knuckles tossed them not-so-gently at the doctor's face. Only a last-minute save kept the packets from dropping on the floor.

"Oh, good, you've found it," said Ghirahim, popping out from behind a counter, bottles of sauces in his hands. He plucked a packet out of Wily's hands and, with a single gloved finger, sliced the plastic wrap open in one fluid motion, allowing its content to fall onto a cutting board. "Whisk these, Albert," he said, tossing the doctor a few bottles and a container of ginger flakes. "While we're doing that, you two," he continued, staring down his nose at Knuckles and Starfy, "can fetch the vegetables we need for the salad. Chop-chop now!"

Starfy plucked a large bowl from a drawer. The echidna, meanwhile, remained unimpressed. "Whatever you say, your majesty," he answered with as much sarcasm he could load into his voice.

Ghirahim was turned away, his focus on the sirloin, but his venomous smile was almost audible. "That's 'my lord' to you, children."

Knuckles opened the produce fridge's door with a little more force. For Knuckles, a little more force meant the door slammed against the wall, causing the shelves to shake and an avocado to nearly topple from its perch.

"Vegetables, vegetables, what do we got…" His jaw ached from how hard his teeth were grit. He tried to focus on getting the right vegetables and placing them into Starfy's bowl, but his mind kept drifting back to those two.

The echidna had faced more than his fair share of irritating foes (a certain bald, mustachioed roboticist sprung to mind), but these two pushed his buttons like no one else had. In between Ghirahim's nigh-constant air of superiority and the naked disdain he held for everyone present, it was a wonder how anything was going to get done. And there was something craven present in Wily's eyes and demeanor that Knuckles did not like at all. The way his teeth flashed in a grin as he unleashed a barrage of beams and missiles from the comfort of a machine, or the way he scowled at others when he thought no one was looking reminded him far, far too much of Eggman. He was a slimeball, through and through. At least Eggman had some vaguely resembling noble traits, buried deep under everything else.

…Ugh. That felt gross to admit, even privately. He tossed a head of lettuce at Starfy's bowl, the vegetable rolling around the rim before coming to rest at the center.

Knuckles wondered, for a moment, what would happen if the two doctors were to meet. Would they try to conquer the world together? Would their differences be too much, to the point that they'd rather destroy everything around them than cooperate?

A sudden chill ran up his spine, and he quickly made himself stop thinking about that. He threw the next beet at the bowl a little harder than he'd liked, the vegetable bouncing off the rim and landing in Starfy's stubby hands.

"Alright, that's all of 'em," declared Knuckles, a little louder than he'd liked. "C'mon, Starf, let's go."

It was oddly silent when he turned to go. There was no sound of footsteps following after him. Knuckles' hand rested on the door handle, but he did not turn it. Slowly, he turned back around.

Starfy was still standing there, bowl full of vegetables in his hands, but he was looking at him differently.

"What? What is it?"

Starfy swallowed. "Are… are you okay?" he asked, timidly. "You look upset."

The tone of the star's voice was enough to give him pause. "I, uh…"

"Is it about Mr. Ghirahim?"

Dang. "Ah… Er… yeah. Him and Wily," he admitted.

"It's okay." Starfy gave (or tried to give) Knuckles a comforting pat on the knee. "I don't like him either. He's a bully."

"Don't I know it," said Knuckles. "Believe me, I have no patience for people like that."

"Yeah!" pouted Starfy. "He just… he thinks he's better than everyone else! And he's mean about it, too!"

"Right?" Knuckles crossed his arms. "Exactly like Waluigi."

"No!" Starfy shook his head with such force the rest of his body shook with him. "Nuh-uh! Mister Waluigi is different. He's my friend!"

The echidna could only stare blankly at him. "…Why?" he asked. "He's a jerk."

"No!" Starfy repeated, punctuated by a stomp of his foot. "Mister Wario is his friend, and my friend, too. So, Mister Waluigi is my friend!"

Knuckles blinked. He'd understood that Starfy was a… space case, as it were, but this… "Listen, Starf, I get the whole 'don't judge a book by its cover' thing, but… really? Him?"

"Yeah!" The look in Starfy's eyes was clear: Yes. Of course, him. Who else?

"I…" Knuckles decided, for the third time that day, this was not something worth pursuing. "Y'know what, fine. We're just as capable ourselves. Come on, little man."

When they walked back into the kitchen, Ghirahim had already started searing the boar, carefully turning it over on the griddle and letting the smoke waft to the ceiling. To his left, Dr. Wily busied himself gathering spices and gingerly (almost reluctantly, Knuckles would say) placing them next to Ghirahim.

"Alright," Knuckles announced, "I got your vegetables. What now?"

"Marvelous," said Ghirahim, not bothering to turn around from the griddle. "Give those to Albert, if you would."

Starfy passed the vegetables on, setting the bowl on the table with a rather loud clang that made the doctor jump. "What do we do now?" he asked.

Now Ghirahim turned around, making a show of rolling his eyes. "Oh, for heavens' sakes…" he sighed, letting his eyes lazily scan the room. "I suppose you can start getting the ladyfingers from the fridge."

Starfy blinked. "Lady's… fingers?"

The demon lord's eye rolled again, accompanied by a groaning growl of impatience. "For pity's sake, child, ladyfingers. The boudoir biscuits that form the very foundation of tiramisu! Did you even read the menu? They should be in the dairy fridge, on the left. And please, try not to get lost."

An image of a blue hedgehog, hands on hips, sprang to mind just as Knuckles stepped forward to take the first swing. Easy, Knux. He squeezed his fist and slowly reined himself in. "Fine," he ground out. "We'll handle it ourselves."

The dairy fridge's door swung open, slamming against the wall and causing crates of milk to quake where they stood. Knuckles stomped towards a large cabinet located at the far end. Scanning it over, he snatched two boxes of ladyfingers, tossing one over his shoulder to Starfy, and stormed right back out.

Ghirahim did not look up from his griddle. "Oh look, you've finally gotten them," he drawled.

"Yeah, yeah, we got 'em," gruffed Knuckles. Starfy was still there, he had to remember. "Hey, y'know what? You can do whatever you're doing on your side, and Starfy and I will handle the dessert by ourselves, alright?"

The demon lord shrugged. "Fine by me." Beside him, Dr. Wily made a grunt of assent.

"It better be fine," ground out Knuckles. He laid out the ladyfingers in front of him. To his right, the menu showed a picture of tiramisu. Below it was a short paragraph.

A velvety mélange of ladyfinger biscuits dipped in an espresso or hot chocolate, layered with delicately sweetened whipped eggs and mascarpone cheese, and topped with a dusting of cocoa powder.

Knuckles stared at the ladyfingers on the counter. The ladyfingers stared back. The eggs, mascarpone cheese, and cocoa powder did not.

"Oh, for the love of—"

A carton of eggs clattered onto the counter and into Knuckles' vision, with enough force that he instinctively put his hand on them to stop them from moving any further. A container of cream cheese followed suit, followed by a carton of milk, then a can of whipped cream, with a bag of cocoa powder bringing up the rear. For a brief infuriating moment, Knuckles thought that it was Ghirahim, casually, passive-aggressively giving him the remaining ingredients that he forgot, lording his supposed superiority over him once again—

"I got the stuff!"

Knuckles looked down and to his left. Starfy smiled agreeably at him.

Oh.

Well.

Okay then.

"...Ah," said Knuckles after a moment. He felt his fists unclench. "Yeah. Thanks, Starf."

Starfy beamed, and tossed a big, heavy book onto the counter, sending up particles of dust that Knuckles hoped was not dust. "So how do we start?" he asked.

"That's a good question," said Knuckles, nodding his head and definitely not stalling for time because he had no idea where to start. "Let's crack open the book and see what we got."

After a few seconds of flipping, they found the page detailing the process of making tiramisu. Mercifully, it was a no-bake recipe. Less mercifully, it was a no-bake recipe that took much longer than they thought it would have.

But Knuckles was nothing if not persistent (to a fault, Sonic might say). This was just another obstacle to be overcome. And, he liked to think, no one was better at overcoming obstacles than he was.

"Alright," Knuckles announced, clapping his hands together. "You wanna do this with coffee or hot chocolate?"

"Chocolate!" Starfy chirped, hopping up and down on the spot.

Knuckles grinned. "Figured you'd like that. You see that cocoa powder? Gonna need you to mix that with some milk and boil it on the stove." He tossed the star creature a whisk. "Think you can handle that?"

Starfy nodded with such force he nearly toppled over and immediately set to work, whisking away at the cocoa powder with all the restraint of a child given a new toy.

Knuckles nodded and turned back to the eggs. Picking up an egg, he tapped it against the edge of the bowl and let its contents pour out inside. The rest of its brothers soon followed. For some reason, he imagined one of the eggs with a pair of glasses and a bushy mustache. He cracked that one with a little more force. "Pass me the sugar."

A shaker was dropped into his hand, and he gave a grunt of gratitude in response. The sugar was shaken into a measuring cup, then back into the bowl, and was whisked into the mixture. Knuckles lifted the whisk out, thin ribbons of the blend dripping down, and poured it into a bigger bowl. Setting aside the eggs, he picked up a napkin and began wiping down the bowl he'd used to mix them.

Knuckles reached over Starfy's bowl for the cream cheese, trying to avoid getting hit by his whisk with how hard he was mixing the cocoa powder, and began mixing that as well, dusting sugar on top once the peaks began to form. He sprayed a bit of whipped cream in and took to mixing again.

…Right as a bit of chocolate splattered into the bowl.

Starfy, at least, looked just as surprised as Knuckles did, if not more so. "Uhhh… is that good enough?"

Knuckles' face smoothed out into an expression of fond exasperation. "Yeah, it's good enough."

Once the cream was properly mixed and set aside and the milk was put on the stove to boil, the echidna took the chance to glance over at Ghirahim and Dr. Wily. They did not return the courtesy, being too occupied with the griddle. That suited him just fine.

"Alright, Starf," said Knuckles, "you got the ladyfingers ready?"

"Ready!" Starfy plucked two of the biscuits out of the box.

Knuckles nodded, taking the milk off the stove. "First, you gotta dip the ladyfingers in the milk, and layer 'em out into the bowl." He watched Starfy dunk a biscuit into the milk and fish it out a few moments later, dropping it into the bowl with a plop. The routine continued, each biscuit soaking in the chocolate before lining the bottom of the bowl with two layers of soggy, spongy cookies.

"Alright," said Knuckles, nodding sagely. He placed the cream in front of them. "Now, you gotta take the cream and spread it over the ladyfingers in an even layer. Here, I'll show you."

Whispers, sharp and scornful, seized Knuckles' attention. Snapping his head up, he saw Ghirahim cutting the meat with a knife, and speaking—hissing, rather—in Doctor Wily's ear. From the way Wily cringed and backed away, sweat beading on the back of his head, he was clearly on the receiving end of quite a tongue-lashing.

Knuckles frowned at the sight. Definitely too much like Eggman.

"They're bullies," said a little star voice beside him.

Knuckles blinked, looking down at Starfy. "Yeah, I know. Pass me that knife."

The next layer of ladyfingers was placed by Starfy's careful stubs. Watching him go allowed Knuckles to calm down a bit. Man… he'd been in a bad mood ever since he stepped foot in the kitchen. He willed himself to stop thinking about Ghirahim and Wily altogether.

Just one more layer of cream to go. So far, so good. Put the—

"And yet still, you haven't?!"

Never mind.

"Everything okay over there?" called Knuckles.

"Oh, we're fine!" said Ghirahim, the false cheer in his voice as plain as the nose on his face. "Don't worry about us!"

Knuckles wasn't about to start worrying about them… but he certainly wasn't going to take his eyes off them, either. Something was up, and he needed to know.

Putting a hand on Starfy's head to get his attention, Knuckles cast a look at Ghirahim and Wily, pointing a thumb at them for good measure. Starfy seemed to understand, keeping his eyes on them as he sprinkled cocoa powder on the cream.

"I'll ask again," whispered Ghirahim. "What on earth is keeping you?"

"I've been trying!" hissed Wily. Neither Knuckles nor Starfy could see his face, but they were sure his eyes were darting to and fro. "I've been sending him to do it, but he keeps getting stopped at every opportunity!"

Ghirahim's scowl was almost audible. "You've used that excuse before, haven't you? Oh, let me guess: a lizard stopped him, or something?" The demon lord leaned in close (too close), and his voice dropped to a low growl. "I've done my waiting. I've been waiting for years!"

'Ha—have you now?" managed a tentative Wily. "Because it's only been—"

Ghirahim immediately fixed him with a look, a look that, again, neither Knuckles nor Starfy could really get a good look at, but could still feel the effects of. It was the kind of look that caused great men to buckle at the knees, and lesser men to run for the hills. Wily, whose status in this sense tended to fluctuate, could only stammer and gape like a middle-aged fish. At least this time he kept quiet.

"Let me make one thing clear," began Ghirahim, his voice low and hard as steel. "The only reason I haven't intervened on your behalf is because I was promised a golden opportunity… if I am patient. But right now…"

Ghirahim plunged his knife into the boar flank with a thick schuk, the knife sticking into the cutting board.

"…as you can see, my patience has worn rather thin."

Dr. Wily stood rooted to the spot, silently gasping for air. Starfy leaned in closer.

'I've warned you once before," continued Ghirahim, "I'm warning you again: if you botch this for me, before I am given my chance…"

"You guys good over there?" asked Knuckles, a bit louder.

Both of them jumped, Wily's surprise much more exaggerated than Ghirahim's. "Oh, ah, don't you worry about us," said Wily once he had regained his bearings. "Just a little chinwag between…" And here, Wily's words seemed to catch on his tongue, stubbornly refusing to come forth, retreating to the back of his throat, a lump beginning to form, raising Knuckles' already-heightened suspicions, until, at last, he grit out, through teeth that threatened to crack from stress— "Ffffriends."

Ghirahim was much more succinct in his response. "Mind your business, child."

At this point, Knuckles was too exhausted, both from the surprisingly taxing experience of making tiramisu with giant gloves on, and from Ghirahim and Wily's attitudes to get truly angry. So he only managed an eyeroll and a "Yeah, whatever," as he sprinkled the last of the cocoa powder on the cream.

"But nevertheless," announced Ghirahim with a clap of his hands, "everything is done, finally. Thanks to my leadership, of course. Albert!" He clapped his hands again, making the doctor snap to attention. "Be a dear and load these onto the carts so we can serve everyone." He turned and gazed loftily down at Knuckles and Starfy. "And you two, you can put the tiramisu in the fridge. For your sake, you'd better not let it spoil."

The food now properly stocked, the demon lord and the roboticist pushed the carts out of the kitchen. Neither Ghirahim nor Wily made any eye contact with Knuckles and Starfy, but they could feel Wily's eyes on them as the double doors closed behind them.

A long, tense sigh escaped Knuckles' chest. "Well, that could've gone a lot better," he muttered.

"They're bullies," Starfy declared.

"You can say that again," said Knuckles.

"They're bullies," Starfy declared again.

Knuckles gave him a weary look. He really should've seen that coming. He took out the plastic wrap and cut a large swathe from the roll.

"But… but what were they talking about earlier?" asked Starfy, tottering over to the echidna. "What was Ghirahim waiting for?"

"I'm not sure," answered Knuckles after a pause. The tiramisu was placed safely in the fridge. "But Wily was definitely keeping him from doing it. And he's been sending… someone to do it, so that Ghirahim can get whoever promised him a chance at something."

"But who would make a promise with them?" asked Starfy to the room.

Knuckles paused, and rested a hand under his chin. "That," he began slowly, "I'm not too sure of."

Truthfully, Knuckles had no idea who could feasibly promise Ghirahim anything that could get him to work with anyone. As sadistic and flashy as he was, he didn't strike the echidna as the type to really get along with anyone. Unless… maybe Ridley? No, that could never work. At least Wily was easy to read.

I've been trying… I've been sending him to do it, but he keeps getting stopped at every opportunity!

Knuckles' furrowed brow melted away as his eyes went wide.

I've been sending him to do it…

Maybe… Could he have possibly…?

No, the Hands would have caught them by now…

But then, came that doubtful voice in his head, even for those that can seemingly do anything, something is bound to slip through the cracks… You should know that.

"He's got a spy."

Starfy blinked, tossed out of whatever ruminations on Ghirahim had gotten his mind turning. "What?"

"He's got a spy," repeated Knuckles. "Or, maybe not a spy, but like a sidekick, and they're trying to… to…" And there he stopped, because for all of his recollection of that conversation, and reasoning that sprung from that, he still had no idea of what, exactly, Ghirahim and Dr. Wily were planning to do.

"They're gonna do something," finished Starfy. "Something bad."

Knuckles nodded soberly. It was the same conclusion he had reached in accuracy. At least they were on the same wavelength. "I dunno what it is they're gonna do, but I'm gonna settle it."

No sooner had the words left Knuckles' tongue than he was stomping towards the door, fists clenched. The little tip-tip-tip of Starfy's footsteps came up behind him.

"We gotta do something!" Starfy's eyes sparkled with resolve, his stubby hands clenched into equally stubby fists. "We gotta find out what they're gonna do! Together!"

The echidna stopped just short of shoving the door open. He stared down at the little star, whose eyes shone just like… well, stars. Every time he blinked, his fists seemed to clench even tighter.

Knuckles had intended to go after Ghirahim and Wily alone. Key word alone. He didn't mind working with other people—working with Tiki to take care of Pokémon quickly sprang to mind— but when the chips were down, he really did prefer to do things by himself. (Independent since his first breath, as it were.) But something about the way Starfy gazed up at him gave him pause. He really did seem to want to help. And something deep within Knuckles told him he was going to need all hands on deck… no matter how small.

…Was this how Sonic felt when he first met Tails?

"Alright," Knuckles announced. "We're gonna find out their spy, and we're gonna find what Ghirahim and Wily are up to, together." He knelt down and held out his fist. "You in?"

Starfy nodded, the rest of his body moving along with the force. "I'm in!"

The resulting painful fist bump was the price to pay for the inception of a new alliance.

Author's Notes: Ah, lunch time. Not claimed to be as important as breakfast, and lacks the finality of dinner. This one goes out to lunch enthusiasts.

Ah, best be careful, Ghirahim. The walls have ears, so they say.

Up next: A delicate, delectable, decidedly descriptive dinner!