"Oh, only real syrup for me. But that's about it. I don't really like blueberries, and those are less toppings and more... innings? I'm more of a pancake gal anyway."

"Well, at least you have some standards. Vermont or Canada? - ah, excellent, you may go, goon." The goon has sprinted back with two little covered dishes full of some kind of fish salad and a bag of baguette slices. There's a desk-table-thing by the window in the Red Room, and he puts it down there and bows his way out. "C'mere."

"Vermont. I'm from there actually. Fuck, this looks delicious. What is it?"

"House specialty! I have a fishing goon ever since I moved into the underwater base, he catches whatever looks good and shreds it with pickles and aioli and mustard and a bit of celery seed and fresh dill." She plops one of the little tubs in front of Katie. There's a spot in the lid for a spoon, and a spoon is stuck there. The baguettes go between the two of them. Monoceros tucks in, applying a big wodge of fish salad to each slice of baguette and eating them in one bite apiece.

Katie eagerly digs in. "Damn, if the food here is all this good, getting fat isn't gonna be hard."

"I only accept the best! But it'll depend what violence you've done to your set point. Maybe if you get up to a hundred fifteen you'll get fidgety and tummyachey and we'll have to go the gavage route."

"Do you not have some super-science bullshit for that? Gavage sounds painful. Plus, I don't get much food this good back home, so I'd like to take advantage of that as long as I'm here."

"I can probably develop some superscience bullshit, but I don't have it already. My set point was very cooperative. I told myself, all right, I need to be big enough to fit this laundry list of modifications and not feel any of them poking me when I sit, and hungry enough to keep them in working order without needing to change any batteries, and here I am today."

"Oh, you're big on purpose. Nice. Glad I'm not gonna have to, y'know, beat around the bush about it. Not that I dislike it. Quite the opposite, in fact." 

"You thought I might be big by accident? Mooncake, I'm a mad scientist. If I wanted to be a fucking stick insect what could possibly stop me?"

"I mean, there is a distinction between you happening to be fat and actively choosing to become so. But point taken. I really want to emphasize how badly your pet names make me melt, by the way."

"You know, I don't have to fuck you, this could be a simple lab rat situation without the sex slavery, but I also could. Is this what we're angling for?"

"Yes. Definitely. Absolutely. It isn't slavery if you're into it, and God, am I into you. Like, I mean, have you looked in the mirror lately? You look like one of those caveman fertility statues."

Monoceros cackles. "I occasionally think of myself as a narwhal. Sleek, well-insulated, stabby, and very fond of eating fish. Speaking of, put away your half, second course will be here any minute."

She eagerly swallows the last bite. "Not an animal I've ever thought of as being a sexy one to compare a person to before, but I'm seeing the appeal." 

"I have a taxidermied one hanging from the ceiling in my room. When I'm in my full combat gear the horn is adapted from a narwhal horn, too, though I souped it up considerably."

The second course arrives: eggs Benedict, brought by a hustling goon who has them on the table still steaming. They each get two. It's smothered in hollandaise sauce and you can barely see the edges of the egg and bacon poking out. Chiffonade herbs are sprinkled on top and there is bonus hollandaise should any part of the course not have enough emulsified butter on it.

She's not the biggest fan of eggs (read: she doesn't like them at all) but she doesn't want to disappoint her captor/possible partner if all goes well. She eats considerably slower than the first course, mainly focusing on the bacon and English muffin, but she does eat.

"Running out of steam already? This is the second of twelve."

"I just don't like e... twelve?" Oh god. This isn't good. She's so going to vomit. Not the worst thing that can happen when being kidnapped, though, she guesses.

"Counting desserts, yep. Don't like... eggs? Just by themselves or are you also bearish on quiche, custard..."

"I don't think I've tried either of those. Eggs have a certain... rubbery metallicness that doesn't sit well with me. Y'know how if you cook frozen mozzarella sticks too long the cheese will burst out and like pool onto the pan and get all burnt on the bottom? Eggs to me taste like that except with the cheesiness replaced with, like, copper or something."

"Huh. Have you tried eggs that aren't chicken eggs? - Goon, tell the kitchen she doesn't like eggs, they should get creative or skip 'em for her."

"I don't think I have."

"Then there are exciting vistas to explore. Most animals lay eggs! And the ones that don't give milk."

The third course arrives. It's a dumpling soup with very finely shredded veggies floating in the broth.

"Do you?"