Unusual Tastes
Written for Lamia's Weekly Squick Fest
Prompt - free choice week; must include at least one squicky thing
A/N: this chapter is a little on the gross side. Proceed with caution.
Sanderson was nervous about bringing Scabior to a dinner party hosted by the High Warlocks of Penperi Vila. He knew the Snatcher lacked culture, taste or any form of social grace that would allow him to behave in public. Which could spell disaster if Scabior decided to get drunk like he did the last time he and Sanderson went someplace together.
"Now Scabior, as long as you relax and remember what I taught you everything will be fine," said Sanderson, keeping his voice low as he leaned in close to Scabior's ear. The room was filled with people from the Ministry of Magic, and he didn't want anyone overhearing him as he whispered intstructions and reminders to the Snatcher.
Scabior glanced at the warlocks that sat at the head of the table, then looked down at the variety of forks, knives and spoons laid out on the table. "'Ow the bloody 'ell do you expect me to know wha I'm doing when there's forty-seven forks, twenty knives and sixty spoons?"
"Come now, Scabior. It's not so bad. Those are the salad forks, that is a soup spoon - "
"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Sanderson! Who needs tha many forks just to eat a bloody salad?"
"Lower your voice!" Sanderson hissed. He put his hand on Scabior's back and pushed him towards the table. "The high warlocks are staring at you. Just sit down and behave yourself."
Sanderson pulled a chair out and motioned for Scabior to sit down. The Snatcher took a seat, not knowing what to do or how to begin a conversation with these people. He felt out of place, surrounded by Ministry officials and other high ranking members of magical society.
He picked up one of the forks and started poking at his salad, keeping his head down and avoiding eye contact with the warlocks sitting across from him. Sanderson sat down on his left, with Dylan seated on his right behind a towering mountain of sugar cookies that he'd piled on his plate.
"Well, now isn't he cute," said the witch sitting next to one of the warlocks.
Scabior looked up and saw a pretty witch with long blond hair smiling at him from across the table.
"My name is Anna," said the witch. "I'm head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."
"Wha sort of magical creatures do you usually work with?" Scabior asked, trying his best to make polite conversation with these people.
"Mostly fae," Anna replied. "I've been trained to deal with all manner of magical creatures. But I specialize in fae, pixies and brownies."
"Brownies?" Dylan exclaimed suddenly, sitting up straight and glancing wildly around the room. "Who said brownies? Where are they? Where's the brownies? I call dibs on the brownies!"
"Not those kinds of brownies, you idiot," said Sanderson. "Shes talking about magical creatures. Not chocolate brownies you bake in the oven."
"Oh." Dylan slumped back in his seat, looking rather disappointed as he picked up a cookie and nibbled on it. "Forgive me. It appears as though I made a mistake."
"Don't mind him, Scabior," said Anna. "Sometimes I think that man is part fae, because everyone knows how fairies love sweet things such as sugar and frosting."
"I see." Scabior nodded and took a bite of his salad. He glanced over at Dylan, who had buried his face in the mountain of cookies on his plate and was now eating his way to freedom. Every now and then Dylan would poke his head out from behind the pile of cookies and comment on the goings on, usually by nodding or saying "fascinating" before going back to his cookies.
"So tell us about yourself," said Anna.
Scabior hesitated, taking his time as he chewed a mouthful of salad. "I 'ave a girlfriend," he said at length. "'Er name is Violet."
"Delightful," said the warlock on Anna's right. "Does she have any hobbies or interests? What sort of things does she like?"
"She likes Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. But she only eats the vomit flavored ones. An blood flavored lollipops. She likes those too." Scabior said all of this in a casual tone as though he were discussing arrangements for afternoon tea. He'd lived with Violet for so long that he was used to her unusual tastes in food.
There was a slight pause before the warlock spoke again, the features of his face contorting with disgust as he said, "She likes the taste of blood and vomit?"
"It's not actual vomit, though," said Scabior. "She 'as me go out an buy a big bag of beans, then pick out all the ones tha aren't vomit flavored. She calls 'erself a 'puke connoisseur' an can distinguish between different flavors of vomit."
Everyone in the room was staring at him now. Dylan looked up from eating, and a soft clatter was heard a moment later as he dropped his half-eaten cookie on the table.
"One time I drank too much an got sick on 'er favorite blanket," Scabior continued. "She didn't wash it for three whole days. It took 'er tha long to get tired of the smell. I cast a cleansing charm on it an everything, but it still smelled of vomit until she finally washed it."
Sanderson groaned, his elbows on the table and his head in his hands.
"How charming," the warlock said, wrinkling his nose in disgust.
"She is, isn't she?" said Scabior, grinning at the warlock. "She's a unique individual, I'll give 'er tha. But I still love 'er despite 'er unusual tastes. At least she isn't addicted to sugar like Cookie Monster over 'ere."
"Our cookies!" Dylan growled, wrapping his arms around the mound of cookies. "These are our precious cookies. You will not take the precious from us!"
"You can't give 'im some lessons in table manners, can you?" Scabior asked, brushing the cookie crumbs off the table. "You're so worried about me you forgot to teach your friend 'ow to sit down an eat like a 'uman being."