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"is it good." thomas repeated with a soft, amused chuckle of disbelief. "is it good? this is my third plate so i think it's safe to say it's pretty good." calling it a plate was being a bit generous. the familiar had some much food huddled and hoarded together on his dish that he could have spread it out on one of the large trays they were carrying drinks around on and still had a layer or two of food.
"here," reaching out, he nudged the edge of his collection closer to the center of the counter he was leaning against to offer some to the newcomer. "try it for yourself." while there was a considerable amount of fruits piled together-- bananas, strawberries, blueberries-- it quickly became clear that there was nothing but sweets on thomas's plate; even the fruit was drizzled with various dark, milk, and white chocolates. cupcakes, petit fours, cookies, pastries, were stacked high and he had every intention of eating all of it.
"sorry," he chuckled as he realized that his plate was lacking of any real substance; it was all sugar, upon sugar, upon sugar. "i get a bit of a sweet tooth when i'm drinking. or after a nap. or after i go for a run, or work out. or in the afternoons; and mornings; and most nights... yeah," thomas nodded with a smile. "i guess i just have a bit of a sweet tooth."
"i can go grab you something, though, if you want actual food. they have this really good little finger sandwiches and a few charcuterie boards floating around... or you're more than welcome to help me tackle all of this."
he had debated on showing up at all, being so new to the town and only knowing his bandmates. in fact he would have much rather been back in his room with a book in his lap, notebook by the side as he got inspiration for their next album. oz may have been the more creative leader and face for the band but carver had just as much creative liberties even if he kept it behind the scenes. it was his name alongside oz's in the songs and that was all he cared about, more into the music than getting laid because of it. for a while growing up carver even thought about becoming a ghost writer for musicians and bands not wanting to really be seen by thee world or putting them at risk with his screams. yet the musically gifted had met oz and now he was spotted occasionally on streets when he went to get groceries which still felt funny to him. it's one reason he had kept to himself since arriving a few weeks ago only really leaving his room when needed and tonight it was the call of hunger that drove him out.
after realizing he was out of food and it was too late to go get something fresh, he had remembered the invitation of the ball that arrived at his door. they had to be food there, right? slipping on the given mask, watching it shift from plain and boring to one that mimicked an open mouth skull carver headed down to the ball slowly as if he was walking to a firing squad. really he was just going to grab food and leave. maybe even enough that he wouldn't have to leave his room again until dinner time the next day. really it wasn't that he didn't like people or was trying to be a recluse it was just...well talking to people was hard to carver to the point that sometimes he couldn't talk at all when his anxiety got overwhelming.
go in, grab food and get out. it was carver's plan and he kept repeating to himself so eagle eyed focused on the food he hadn't even realized that someone had spoken to him at first. turning his head to look at him, eyes were wide almost like a deer in a headlights. shit someone was speaking to him. did they recognize him? did they want something from him? did-- oh it was about the food. that fear fell from his face and he smiled some and nodded his head in agreement. "shame...is it." carver forced himself to clear his throat and try not to sound too much like the little green alien from star wars as he said, "i came here...for food....is it...good?" it looked like it by the way the other was eating instead of partying like everyone else but his therapist had encouraged him to keep conversation going if he was in moments like this where he could feel the anxiety but still able to speak. baby steps.
