#( ;; s.am would not stop answering them anyways. )

[coesmos]

❝        potatoes  with  butter  and  a  grilled  cheese  .      sounds  like  you’ve  got  your  culinary  priorities  in  order  .      all  right  ,      i’ll  accept  that  answer  .      for  now  .        ❞        of  course  ,      this  was  side  with  a  lopsided  grin  that  sam  just  couldn't  control  ,      to  the  point  where  he  pressed  the  knuckles  of  a  fist  into  his  cheek  and  turned  the  corner  of  his  lips  into  his  fingers  .      potatoes  ,      butter  ,      grilled  cheese  ,      and  this  entire  topic  were  nothing  less  than  fun  banter  .      and  it  was  the  sort  of  fun  banter  that  sam  really  liked  to  engage  in  whenever  there  was  some  downtime  to  be  had  .

most  of  the  time  ,      there  wasn't  .      it  didn’t  used  to  be  like  this  with  constellation  .      at  one  point  ,      they  all        save  for  tony  here  ,      who  hadn’t  come  along  yet        managed  plenty  of  time  for  their  own  affairs  ,      dealing  with  what  issues  in  their  own  personal  lives  separately  from  one  another  .      it  was  one  thing  to  share  little  details  about  their  homes  and  lives  with  one  another  through  spoken  word  :  it  was  another  entirely  to  share  it  with  someone  in  person  .      constellation  wasn’t  like  that  before  .

not  until  tony  had  come  along  and  broken  the  mold  had  that  changed  .      for  better  or  for  worse  ?      not  something  sam  was  like  to  pinpoint  any  time  soon  .

❝        let’s  see    …    breakfast  when  it  ain’t  breakfast  time  ?      a  little  weird  ,      gotta  admit  .      if  you’re  makin’  a  full-on  breakfast  past  noon  on  the  o’clock  ,      that’s  pushin’  it  .      any  time  an  hour  after  that  and  you  don’t  have  my  support  anymore  .      i  can’t  defend  you  if  you  make  bacon  ,      eggs  ,      toast  and  milk  at  fifteen  o’clock  .      sorry  .      breakfast’s  for  energy  .      you  eat  that  much  that  late  in  the  day  ,      and  your  body’s  not  gonna  forgive  you  .      you’re  gonna  give  it  all  that  energy  and  then  not  give  it  a  chance  to  be  let  out  ?      i’d  rather  go  to  bed  with  an  empty  stomach  .        ❞        now  cora  ,      on  the  other  hand  ,      would  argue  a  different  point  to  that  .      but  right  now  ,      was  all  sam  ,      and  only  sam  .        ❝        why  ?      are  you  the  type  of  guy  to  enjoy  any  type  of  food  at  any  type  of  day  ?        ❞

"…Sam. Buddy- We're buddies, right? Pal. I have never, not once in this life, wanted to hunker down with a cube of anything 'edible'-" And yes, he raised both hands, making quotes in the air with his fingers, eyebrows reaching for his hairline in incredulous amusement, "-while I'm working. Have I done it anyway? Oh, absolutely. But it's never been, shall we say…Something I have ever looked forward to. Craved. Desired." Did anyone? When it came do to the nitty gritty? Did anyone, anywhere, with any kind of self respect see a Chunks and think Oh boy, my favorite? It was like the old quote he'd read in a book once, by a guy who used to make films forever and a day ago on Earth: If you go home with somebody, and they don't have books, don't fuck 'em! Except…Except in this case, he supposed it was more…If all you saw was Chunks packaging, gnawing your own arm off to escape would be acceptable.

Which was - definitely, absolutely - melodramatic. But in spirit, at least, he agreed. Besides, he'd already painted himself a hypocrite, he wasn't going to hammer that nail all the way home by sharing that fun little thought.

He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head and propping one foot in the empty chair next to him, lackluster meal all but forgotten at this point, as he mulled over the question himself in the insulation of the background noise generated by the comings and goings of people from Aggie's, not really paying attention to those comings and goings but peripherally aware of them all the same. His culinary experience had always been something of a whiplash; even at his highest of highs Chunks or ramen had never been out of the question, but neither had frequent dinners at Whetstone or charity dinners on Trident starliners in those years gone by (he hated those especially - art more than food, not meant to be eaten, necessarily, but as stage dressing). His palette was varied enough and he had enough common sense and know how that he'd been able to effectively feed himself, at least, in the darkest stretches of his history, but picking just one?

"Potatoes." His answer held a finality in it. "And butter. If we're talking survival. It'll raise your cholesterol like hell, and you'll probably never want, like, fries again - a tragedy, by the way - but it'll keep you alive and healthy enough short term." He jiggled the foot on the chair back and forth a moment in further thought. "If just because, grilled cheese. One, I'm very, very good at making grilled cheese. Two, nobody dislikes grilled cheese sandwiches, and if they do, you can't trust those people. Because they're wrong."

Another beat passed. "Follow up queston: Breakfast - the whole thing, eggs, bacon, toast, whatever else you want to add - as any other meal. Something to get excited about or a slap in the face of God. Defend your answer."