"No,"

Impulsive. Contrary. A lie: She must have enjoyed the soup, it's impossible to imagine any less. That she can't recall details,

Doesn't last. Taste blooms across tongue, a memory, but at once foreign; new. Of course she enjoyed the soup. Of course she lifted spoon from bowl. And why be so reflexively stubborn, here of all places? This is a place of honour.

(Why?)

"In Par Vollen," Her stomach lurches. There must have been something off in the dish, oily. Wrong. "Who picked them?"