"Christ, please don't tell me getting stuck together is another highlight of this place," Darlington says--though as he'd been about to offer a hand, the warning is appreciated. Exchanging names doesn't seem to have been the solution to their dilemma, as it is; at least it's another theory disproven. "Nine months, though. That's longer than I expected, but not as long as I'd feared."

At the mention of the tea, Darlington looks towards the teapot still sitting on the table before them. "Not yet," he says. "I've taken a look at the card, though it doesn't seem to make any more sense than the rest of this." He picks it up again. "You've been assigned the task of writing a cookbook for culinary enthusiasts with an otherworldly palate. What's the most bizarre recipe you'd include, and how do you prepare it?"

Eyebrows raised, he looks over at Flynn.