Mayonnaise is for sandwiches. We don’t eat it for breakfast, and especially not straight out of the jar—that’s disgusting.”
E’ea looked puzzled. “But it is full of calories and the nutritional content is clearly displayed.”
Gray took the jar and shoved it back in the frig. “Just take my word for it, okay? Sit down, I’ll fix you some eggs.”
“The fowl embryos? Regrettably, they have been consumed. Brynne was hungry in the night.”
Gray raised his brows at her, then looked around the clean kitchen. “Okay. How’d you cook them? You did cook them, right?”
“It was not necessary. They were quite easy to consume in their natural state.”
Gray swallowed, nearly gagging. There had been at least half a dozen eggs in the carton. The idea of Brynne slugging down that many raw eggs—he couldn’t picture it. Didn’t want to picture it.
“Yeah, well don’t eat them raw again,” he told her, moving on to fill the coffee pot under the tap. “You—I mean we humans can get sick that way. We mostly have to cook our protein.”
“Another reason this mayonnaise is a useful food. It is already chemically heat-altered.”
Gray didn’t bother to answer that. He hit start on the coffeemaker, which luckily he’d remembered to pick up at the big grocery-homewares store on the way here. Gran’s had been old the last time he visited, and he’d tossed it in the trash his first day here, along with some ancient spices and box mixes of rice and pasta.
“There is also this substance,” E’ea said, and Gray turned just in time to see the bottle of tequila he’d bought for margaritas slip from the cupboard into her hand. She opened the lid and inhaled, then closed her eyes. “Mm-mm, it smells delicious. It reminds me of … twilight on my planet. Yes, that is it.”
Gray grabbed the bottle from her just before she got the lid off. “Yeah, well, you let Brynne drink this, it’ll remind you of nightie-night time, all right. You stay out of this bottle, got it?”
She gave him a reproachful look. “But why? Your alcohol contains many calories and is responsible for much weight gain among your people. Also, I want it.” She reached for the bottle.
Gray held it out of her reach, moving away. “No. Now, listen. Tequila is a very potent alcohol. And Brynne’s slender. She can’t metabolize much of the stuff. You’ve heard of alcohol, so haven’t you heard of being drunk? Schnockered, buzzed, wasted …?”
His guest tipped her head and frowned in concentration. Then she nodded once. “Very well, I perceive you are correct. But I am sad. I did so want to taste twilight.”
“No twilight for you, not that kind.” About time he got to say no to her. “Anyway, you’re, uh, made of light, right? Why would you want to ‘taste’ twilight? That’s the dark.”
She pondered this. “How to explain to a human … it is because we are made of light. Light is energy, movement and life. But it uses our resources, which we must replenish. Twilight means a time when we can rest, sink into stasis. It is … peace. Sweet and rejuvenating. Only it smells rather like your teh-keel-ah. And like you, sometimes those of my race come to crave that peace too much. If we spend too long in the twilight, we never rise to the light again.”
“Huh. Okay.” Instead of alcoholics, they had twilight-oholics. Gray shoved the bottle in the high cupboard over the fridge, peered into the fridge itself, then moved to the cupboard for bowls, spoons and the granola. “I need groceries. Especially if you’re gonna keep feeding Brynne this way.”
“I calculate her body is under-nourished by at least ten percent for her height, age, build and genetic heritage. To recover fully from the trauma of her death, she will need high calorie, nutrition packed food items. Also, she loves cheese-burg-erzz. I do not know what that is, but you should procure her some as soon as possible.”
“Right.” Gray poured himself a mug of
E’ea looked puzzled. “But it is full of calories and the nutritional content is clearly displayed.”
Gray took the jar and shoved it back in the frig. “Just take my word for it, okay? Sit down, I’ll fix you some eggs.”
“The fowl embryos? Regrettably, they have been consumed. Brynne was hungry in the night.”
Gray raised his brows at her, then looked around the clean kitchen. “Okay. How’d you cook them? You did cook them, right?”
“It was not necessary. They were quite easy to consume in their natural state.”
Gray swallowed, nearly gagging. There had been at least half a dozen eggs in the carton. The idea of Brynne slugging down that many raw eggs—he couldn’t picture it. Didn’t want to picture it.
“Yeah, well don’t eat them raw again,” he told her, moving on to fill the coffee pot under the tap. “You—I mean we humans can get sick that way. We mostly have to cook our protein.”
“Another reason this mayonnaise is a useful food. It is already chemically heat-altered.”
Gray didn’t bother to answer that. He hit start on the coffeemaker, which luckily he’d remembered to pick up at the big grocery-homewares store on the way here. Gran’s had been old the last time he visited, and he’d tossed it in the trash his first day here, along with some ancient spices and box mixes of rice and pasta.
“There is also this substance,” E’ea said, and Gray turned just in time to see the bottle of tequila he’d bought for margaritas slip from the cupboard into her hand. She opened the lid and inhaled, then closed her eyes. “Mm-mm, it smells delicious. It reminds me of … twilight on my planet. Yes, that is it.”
Gray grabbed the bottle from her just before she got the lid off. “Yeah, well, you let Brynne drink this, it’ll remind you of nightie-night time, all right. You stay out of this bottle, got it?”
She gave him a reproachful look. “But why? Your alcohol contains many calories and is responsible for much weight gain among your people. Also, I want it.” She reached for the bottle.
Gray held it out of her reach, moving away. “No. Now, listen. Tequila is a very potent alcohol. And Brynne’s slender. She can’t metabolize much of the stuff. You’ve heard of alcohol, so haven’t you heard of being drunk? Schnockered, buzzed, wasted …?”
His guest tipped her head and frowned in concentration. Then she nodded once. “Very well, I perceive you are correct. But I am sad. I did so want to taste twilight.”
“No twilight for you, not that kind.” About time he got to say no to her. “Anyway, you’re, uh, made of light, right? Why would you want to ‘taste’ twilight? That’s the dark.”
She pondered this. “How to explain to a human … it is because we are made of light. Light is energy, movement and life. But it uses our resources, which we must replenish. Twilight means a time when we can rest, sink into stasis. It is … peace. Sweet and rejuvenating. Only it smells rather like your teh-keel-ah. And like you, sometimes those of my race come to crave that peace too much. If we spend too long in the twilight, we never rise to the light again.”
“Huh. Okay.” Instead of alcoholics, they had twilight-oholics. Gray shoved the bottle in the high cupboard over the fridge, peered into the fridge itself, then moved to the cupboard for bowls, spoons and the granola. “I need groceries. Especially if you’re gonna keep feeding Brynne this way.”
“I calculate her body is under-nourished by at least ten percent for her height, age, build and genetic heritage. To recover fully from the trauma of her death, she will need high calorie, nutrition packed food items. Also, she loves cheese-burg-erzz. I do not know what that is, but you should procure her some as soon as possible.”
“Right.” Gray poured himself a mug of
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