"Okay. Be careful."

"Always," he promises her, and goes to poke the food with a stick. 

Cam taps his foot anxiously and straightens a stack of pastries.

Wilbur gets one thing jumping at him out of the scrambled eggs, which he quickly dispatches and then pronounces non-poisonous. 

"I mean, it is venomous, but it shouldn't have bitten any of the eggs, so that's fine."

"Are you sure it wasn't previously consorting with anything poisonous?"

"Well, not sure sure, but you're never completely sure."

"I can replace the eggs if there's somewhere to dump the old ones. Although I suppose anyone who'd eat those would come get something actually good."

He shrugs and pulls the bin out. "We can start a pile, chuck 'em into the Void later."

"Oh, is that what that is. It's not going to land on anything important in there?"

"As far as we can tell things in the Void don't really have locations."

"Fascinating. I will catch up on that when no one is imminently dying, perhaps." Are Bella and Lucy having any luck herding people over?

Some people are being herded over! Most of them are confused and/or suspicous; several of them poke the food with variously magical objects before taking any. One of them finds some kind of horrible carapaced thing that Wilbur missed. 

"Oh, thank you," says Cam, encasing it in plastic before interpolating it. He puts the deceased carapaced thing in its capsule in a paper bag.

The senior looks at him in startled bemusement before serving herself from the tray the carapaced thing was hiding in. "You're welcome. Useful for parts?"

"What, the beetle thing? No, do you want it for something? I just didn't want it to get on the tablecloth."

"No, I just couldn't think of why else you'd be thanking me, you weren't about to go for that tray."

"For pointing it out. I like to be thorough."

"Okay," they say, not sounding particularly enlightened, and walk off to make way for the next person. 

"I'll take custom orders," Cam says when someone seems hesitant.

"Uh," the boy says hesitantly, "uh, french toast?"

"You got it." French toast. Maple syrup and peaches and cinnamon and whipped cream.

He boggles at this, then says, "Thank you," and hurries off to sit down and check to make sure it isn't poisoned.

Lucy reports in. 

"Everyone is extremely confused, but we have a fairly even mix of pleased and convinced they're hallucinating."

"Eventually I will have been around too long to be a hallucination. Do you think there is any amount of air at various temperatures I could add to this school that would become a pressurization problem?"

"Nah, don't worry about it. Actually, avoid thinking too hard about the air in here at all."