No maggots, cheesy or otherwise, are in evidence! It's seasoned fish and rice with spices in it, all served with lemon wedges. Isabella, who has been known to decline maggot cheese, digs in enthusiastically.

"I don't make food that horrifies my child," Ranata tells him. "I just try it when I'm traveling and it's available."

He snickers. "I had to be sure!"

"Ranata's a really good cook. In a kitchen or with a fire, either way. I'm sorry if the conversation about the cheese misled you."

"The maggot cheese is not from this country, it's from Italy. Ranata took me on a trip around the world when Path settled and we separated and that was one of the places we stopped."

"Aha. I see. I'll be careful if I end up travelling there, then."

"Most Italian food is perfectly palatable to the American palate. So I guess you aren't from Italy, are you, Adarin."

"I am not from Italy," he agrees, with a smile.

"He doesn't sound remotely Italian. I mean, I know his accent's hard to place, but Italian is less plausible than - I don't know, Scottish, which he also isn't."

Adarin snickers. "That might be falling under too many hints, Isabella."

"Whoops!" Isabella covers her mouth with her fingertips and looks guilty.

"I wasn't going to guess Scottish, anyway," says Ranata.

"No? Oh, well. I guess you're all right then." Hand pat, then back to food.

"Awwww."

"We're adorable," Isabella stage-whispers to Adarin.

"Goodness, are we? I hadn't realized," he stage-whispers back. "Do you think we should stop before they start saying we should hug again?"

"Only if you don't wanna hug me again."

"Hmmmmm." He pretends to deeply consider this, but there's a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I don't know. We might have to hug again to see how I like it."

"Oh, good, it would be a terrible pity if you stopped now."

He snickers. "We wouldn't hug! It would be horrible."