Free food, something he certainly couldn't say no to. Particularly, when hadn't any candies to leven out the hungers. The second, the one that sat in the joint of his jaw and made the muscles work when acknowledged, had near been forgotten. Then the dark angel appeared. His presence, and knowing taunt, a reminder even as he offered to share that which would sate the gnawing knot winnowed away by melody.
"Fork," He returned, drawling the word, but answering without hesitation.
As he approached the headstone, he silently reappraised the figure seated upon it. Their first meeting, he recalled, he'd been at the caravan park. He'd traveled with the troupe to the route's end, before being --picked up, pursued by the being. He, of course, drugged up on some cocktail from the other-realm. Trip hazards were nominal as an experienced flier. Therefore, while the event could've been one big hallucination, he revisiting the character in absence of the drug, the request for him to play didn't --align with an induced state of existence. Which confirmed, in turn, the reality of the male's presence --and tonight, the reality of the food he brought with him.
"Definitely a fork," he repeated, dropping his weight into a hip upon reaching Adagio's perch, "And yeah, enough right now --is anything. So, we're good."