The Meat Cake was, surprisingly, a culinary masterpiece. Cassian and Lucien couldn't come because they had business to attend to.
Rurik ate three slices. He ate the ribeye layer. He ate the venison layer. He even ate the bacon-bit garnish. He ate with the focused intensity of a man who had been starving for affection (and protein) his entire life.
"It's... acceptable," Rurik grunted, wiping gravy from his chin.
"Acceptable?" Primrose scoffed, her Fire Tail flickering indignantly. "It's a masterpiece of cardiovascular risk! Admit it, Wolf. You love it."
"I admit nothing," Rurik said, stabbing a potato. "Pass the salt."
The mood in the Daycare had shifted from Terrified Silence to Chaotic Joy. Arjun and Vali were having a mashed potato fight under the table. Caspian was trying to explain the hydro-dynamics of gravy to Orion. Leonora and Rajah were debating whether a lion could beat a wolf in an eating contest (Rajah was losing the argument).
