(1939-02-10) Best. Game. Ever.
Details for Best. Game. Ever.
Summary: Shocked that Myrus has never played games with food, Sybil encourages him to participate in one of her own invention. Neither willing to lose, it soon turns into a battle of the sexes. Anthony arrives and voices stern disapproval!
Date: 1939-02-10
Location: Ravenclaw Common Room

The Ravenclaw Common Room is one of the most airy rooms at Hogwarts. This wide, circular room's floor is covered in a deep, midnight blue carpet and the arched windows are hung with soft blue silk curtains. The high, domed ceiling carries a charm similar to the one in the Great Hall making stars glitter and move about on it reflecting the proper placements of the constellations according to the seasons. During the day, the Ravenclaw students have an excellent view of the surrounding mountains. The room is furnished with comfortable tables and chair upholstered in midnight blue with white pinstripes and bookcases stand along the walls.

It's after supper. Obviously. Because when else would Ravenclaw boys be sitting about in the common room heckling one another.
Currently, Myrus 'Carrow' is the center of attention, but it was from a circle across the room. Some other boys were studying, a couple of them pointing and snickering and avoiding any eye contact at all while sitting at a table by the stairs leading to the girls dormitory.
Rus at the moment sits calmly, one leg crossed over the other sipping on a cup of warm cider. Either ignorant of the subtle nuances of people talking behind his back, or conciously ignoring it. He stares at the fire, calm as a cucumber.

"Knut for them…" Dressed in an ice blue dressing gown with black silk pyjamas beneath, Sybil settles herself into a couch that's close to where Myrus himself sits. There's a glow to her skin, as if she's perhaps scrubbed herself extra hard in the showers and a pinkness to her cheeks that's charming rather than anything else. Damp hair is piled upon her head with the odd tendril falling to frame her face and there is, perhaps, the smallest look of concern just floating in her eyes as she looks at Myrus, waiting for his response.

"You'd give them that much?" He smiles a bit, lifting his eyes from the fire towards her. "You're far more generous than I, right now, Sybs." He puts on his best face, since the recent realization that his attitude was quite the terror activity. All thanks to some words Elizabeth put in his skull not long after the incident a few weeks ago. "How was dinner? I didn't go tonight."

Sybil smiles. "Of course they're worth that much. Everyone's thoughts are worth something, Dork," she says, patting the seat beside her. "Want to join me?" Its not a command, its an invitation in the face of the gossipers on the other side of the room and, pulling her feet from her slippers, she draws them up under her rump. "Can't imagine how you could bear to miss dinner though, would you like me to have a firstie run down and bring you something back from the kitchens? Its not a problem."

Myrus leans forward with his cup of cider, and there's a crunch of paper next to him. A brown paper bag that was out of sight hidden by his robes gathered off to one side. He grabs that and takes it with him to step over and sit next to her.
The gossip and snickers stopped abruptly when she invited him to sit.
And so he sits a comfortable distance away, but not crammed into the corner of the couch away from her. He sets the bag down between them. A gesture to it, "I cook, if you didn't already know." Some might. Inside if she dared would be muffins, sliced banana nut bread, half a small loaf still present, and a couple bananas. "Missing dinner in the great hall doesn't mean I'm starving myself." He tries a smile. It feels a little forced.

Sybil peeks into the bag. "Oh. Finally. An invitation to try your baking," she teases, helping herself to a slice of the banana bread. "If I'd known that all it would take would be for me to offer to have something fetched for you, I'd have offered sooner." A bit of the bread is pulled off in her fingers and she smiles warmly at the younger boy before popping it into her mouth with a close of her eyes. If there's something that Sybil's perfected, its the art of eating food. "Mmm. Delish. What is this again? I love it." Another piece is broken off, and if there's a casual glance given the now gawking-faced circle of boys on the other side of the room, its only to check they've now shut up. Elbow on the back of the couch, she angles herself towards Myrus.

He laughs a few times at her. "Do I seem that stingy?" Myrus clicks his tongue at himself. "I think I'm easier to persuade than that, depending on who's asking. Of course, I don't ever remember you just outright ever asking." But he was having a hard time remembering if she ever just took some of it just because or not.
The boys over at the other table do start murmuring again amongst themselves, but the looks are now between both Myrus and Sybil.
Myrus lifts a leg to put his ankle under his opposite knee, turning just a little to face her as well. A thumb over his shoulder kinda, lowered in front of himself so that to whom he was gesturing would not see. "I'd rather not look at them. I might do something I won't regret."
A smile. "And its Banana Nut Bread. I hope you aren't allergic to nuts." He reaches in to grab himself a muffin. Cinnamon and vanilla. A big, unkempt bite, but his other hand held under his chin so crumbs don't go dribbling about onto his lap or the couch.

Sybil grins. "They'll get over it, and if they don't, I know a wonderful third year kid with a hoard of itching powder." Resting her cheek in the curve of her hand, the blonde witch regards Myrus with amusement. "Allergy to nuts? Not that I know of and it'd be kind of rude for me to just walk up to you and demand some of your baking if you'd not offered me some." Another bite of the bread and her tongue flicks out to capture some crumbs that decorate her upper lip, a delighted smile given. "This reminds me of a game we play at home at Christmas. Balancing jelly beans or some other food on your forehead and trying to get it into your mouth without letting them drop. Its silly… but fun."

Myrus nods. "Or I'll get over it, and then they'll give up. Either way, I win in the end." Win, lose. Considering all that's happened he still considered it a total loss.
"Oh. That's one perspective on it." A moment of ponderous thought and a look up and away. Then back to her. "Yes, I'd probably have hexed you, made you ask, then- Oh.. wait. That was /before/." He makes a face, like something bothered him for a brief moment when he says, "I'd have probably just let you have it." He was a lot nicer back then, wasn't he?
Game? "I don't think I've ever played that. My parents never let me play with my food. Holiday or otherwise. If we celebrated my birthday that year with more than a cupcake I got to make myself." More like had to make himself. It sounds in his voice talking about it the dull, throbbing spite for his parents.

Sybil laughs. "Seriously. That's a terrible thing to have to admit to. Food can be such fun to play with!" There's a small crinkle of her nose as she breaks an angled corner from her banana bread and holds it up between finger and thumb. "Okay. So I'll put this on your forehead between your eyes, and you have to use your facial movements and gravity alone to get i tfrom there and into your mouth. Fail, and you have to do a forfeit of my choice." She gives a teasing wiggle of the bread, her eyes lit with inner mischief. Merlin only help the boy if he accepts the challenge blind, because Sybil's forefeits have, at times, been the stuff of legends.

A challenge? "Oh, you didn't tell me there was more to it." As if he'd decline anyway. A chance to do something new? And the way she talked about it, it was fun! Sounded fun, anyhow.
"Sure," he says confidently. And he leans his head back. Poor boy doesn't know what he's getting into. "After I fail, it's your turn." Not a request. He at least has to get a chance to watch her wiggle about her face and laugh at the funny faces she makes. "No laughing at me. I've never done this before."

Sybil waits until Myrus has his head tipped back before placing the bread in the centre of his forehead. As she does, a few girls drift over, together with a boy or two. Really its a bit of a showcase for the girls though, because girls just love anything like this. "Bet you a sickle he fails" "Bet you a snog with Carlisle he doesn't" And so it goes on, the group growing in size with various giggling, nudging and winking occurring. And Sybil? Sybil reigns supreme over them all, an amused smile just tweaking her lips before she sneakily drops her hand to his knee and squeezes lightly. "Go for it Tiger, and no cheating."

The hand on his knee makes his leg jerk just a little bit, since he couldn't see that she was moving her hand.. since he's looking up. Tricksy girl.
Though, Myrus shows enough physical and mental prowess to eventually get the piece of bread to his mouth, the last moment pulling it into his mouth with his tongue, chewing through a grin as he looks at her.
…Looks like Carlisle is unwittingly in Myrus' debt.
"Your turn," Myrus muses, and breaks off a piece of his muffin and wiggles it toward her.

Sybil laughs. "Oh shoot. And I'd -such- a good forfeit planned for you." Reclaiming her hand, she rests it back on her own knee, dark lashes lowering just enough to veil eyes that look suspiciously at her couch companion. "Another rule, you can't squidge it onto me so it sticks where you press it. That'd be cheating and if you cheat you not only lose the challenge but you still have to pay forfeit too." That rule firmly informed of and in place, the delicate blonde tilts her head back, eyes closing when she levels it off into a horizontal plane. That a few more boys wander over has absolutely -nothing- to do with the fact that the arch in her back has a wonderous effect upon her chest and -everything- to do with the fact that there's now a contest underway.

Myrus nods. "Sure. No squidging it against your forehead so it sticks to you." She said nothing about pressing it into a perfect ball so it rolls easier, though. So once she tilts her head up, Myrus gives a glance at the guys starting to gather, and where their attention is, Myrus was undoubtedly aware. He even catches a glance himself when he gets up to his knee, extending the leg that was on the ground to get excessively close to place that little (now smooth spherical) ball of easily-molded muffin bread on her forehead, having to press a single spot to a flat plane so it would stay on the bridge of her nose between eyebrows untill she tilted her head enough that it would likely just roll right off! He might give off some warmth to her as close as he gets, but he doesn't make contact. That would just be rude. He even leans back to sit gently on the couch, "Ok, whenever you're ready," he says slowly as he leans back to sit again.
Then, with a grin, he asks the crowd overtly whispering, "Quick, someone tell me where she's ticklish.." and he would leeeaaan forward, but not move his hands at all, and act like someone was pointing with the response, "Oh? Right there-?!" As he leans forward just a bit more, but his hands, out of her sight, still don't move from his lap.

Sybil cracks one eye open, the feel of the muffin not quite what she was expecting. Its not light and fluffy with rough edges which would make it easy to manipulate down her face, its smooth and heavy and… not right. "Myrus! This is -so- a cheat. I… " She breaks off, the ball of sponge wibbling as it threatens to roll down the side of her nose. That Myrus isn't helping matters with the threats of tickles and various other CHEATING methods employed, seems to be one of much hilarity to those gathered around, especially the boys. "Go on mate! Do it!" "Drop a spider down her pyjamas" "WATCH OUT PYRITES!!" The edges of her nostrils flare, the girl taking a deep breath as 'The Great Cake Escape' gets thwarted by sheer force of will and she slowly, sloooow-ly, eases herself off the couch and onto her feet. Which is probably much better for the spectators - in more ways than one… "Okay… okay… clear back.." she instructs, a sudden giggle threatening to send the cake rolling to its doom, before her arms go out to the side. Balance. Its so important in this game. She pops her head down and then up, tossing the ball into the air. Its a ragged move, so ragged, but the girl's the ownder of a remarkably flexible physique, and a twist of her hips and a bending of her back and she's catching it safely in her mouth. Smug- or what.

"A cheat? The /only/ rule you made was… that.." her getting up and doing her little show got his attention. Halfway through he regained his composure, unlike most of the other boys. "-Was that I couldn't squidge it against yer forehead!" She makes the spectacle of catching it in her mouth after popping it up.
Myrus even appluads at that though. "So, was I cheating? You grabbed my knee. I'd say we're square." But this game was much too fun to say things were even. Escalation seemed to be the name of this game now.
"But," he does a rather good impression of someone conceding a point, "If you say I cheated, then I guess we're going to have to settle this the right way. With a second round of turns. Or am I understanding the game wrong.." A very sly, sneaky grin dons his features as he starts to tilt his head back, even going so far as leaning onto the back of the couch, just to be utterly intolerable.. maybe.

Still keeping his eyes on her while she's standing there in front of the couch.

Sybil grins at Myrus, forgetting that he's manually squidged up the cake into a sticky ball before she even got to play with it. The sudden realisation hits, causing the chewing to temporarily stop and an 'ew' face to furrow her brow. Gamefully she swallows it down, she's such a sport. "Ugh. Disgusting. Okay… well since its a draw, I guess that its my turn to balance food on your face." She considers the languid drape of his body then spots one of the girls with something held in her hands. A wiggle of her fingers to have it passed over and she presses a knee into the couch either side of Myrus's hips, her free hand pressing to the back cushions to the left of his ear as she balances his next trial slap bang in the centre of his forehead. A glass of milk. "Before you object," she says with a smile. "Milk is food." Tsk on Sybil, she doesn't retreat either to leave him to his fate, she remains straddling his lap, hovering six or so inches above him. Fair's fair, she's not touching.

"WOO SYBIL! YOU GO GIRL!!" A small cheer goes up from the female contingent, the observers now firmly split into two camps of supporters, girls versus boys. Its suddenly turned into a battle of the sexes.

Myrus feels the squish of the cushions on either side of his hips. His mouth gapes ever so slightly as he sees her just out of the bottom of his eyes.
But it's all in vain as while she's still straddling him without touching, but he can feel the featherlight sensation through his clothes of her gown on his thighs. And then the glass of milk is on his forehead. The exact moment she's done saying milk is food, his hands snap to her sides then press lightly on her stomach to get her away from the impending doom(!) and his head lifts, "But that's-!"
THe milk runs down his face, some of it getting into his mouth and he coughs some, swallowing what milk got in his mouth, but most of it trails over his right eye and down his cheek and shoulder on the right side, saturating the right shoulder of his robes and even through to his shirt with the white liquid.
It's a few moments after this happens, the glass rolls down the couch bouncing off his stomach and nestling into the crease of the couch between her knee and his hip. His eyes are sinched shut now. But he doesn't splurt out what milk was on his lips. He merely licks them clean. "Ok, got it in my mouth." Cough cough.
A glance down, and he removes his hands from her midsection. "Or will you make up a new rule to say I failed that one, too?"

Sybil squeaks, abandoning Myrus to his milk-induced DEATH! "Ahahaha. Fail! FAIL!" There is -no- mercy for her victim as he sits there with milk running down his face, and the other girls take up the chorus, drowning out those of the boys that claim the task was achieved. "See," Sybil points out, "… your first go was beginner's luck, but when you come up against a pro like me, you're not going to win." That she herself hasn't taken a second round turn, she conveniently glosses over, why draw attention to something that's not needed? Her game, her rules. Creasing at the middle, and with arms wrapping her waist, she allows herself to laugh properly, her hair sliding from its messy knot atop her head to slither down and around her shoulders.

It wasn't all that terrible, was it? Ok, a concession to Sybil. Myrus looks up at her now where she sits back on his knees, pulling out his wand (to which at least a few of the boys and girls might silence), but he turns it on the couch, "Tergeo." THe first doesn't work. He points it at himself at the shoulder, stating the spell again, and the milk is all but gone from his skin and clothing and.. even his hair, that's now a right handsome mess.
He turns it on the couch again, and the couch gets the same treatment, as if it never happened. Wand away.
Myrus looks up at Sybil again, lacing his fingers together over his stomach, not at all complaining about the current predicament. He wasn't scared at all, but maybe he should be.
"So what's your bidding, m'lady fair?" Going all Olde English on her. Even so far as to compliment the victor.

Sybil takes a moment or two before she's able to get her laughter under control, as do the others that still circle the couch. "Oh now," she says, pressing her hands to her hips and grinning at her 'victim's' addressal of her. "I do believe that I complimented you on your bakery skills a few moments ago. It would seem only fitting that a knight so fair as you should pay due debt by ensuring that a cinnamon muffin is laid lovingly on my pillow each night for the next month." A pause, and she lowers her voice a little, advising with a hand to her mouth. "I'll tell one of the firsties to collect it from you."

Knight. Are we really doing this? Myrus grins at the prospect of the olde timey knights and maidens talk. He places a hand on her knee, only to emphasize his words. "Thank you for the compliment, m'lady. If it's cinnamon muffins you desire, a cinnamon muffin on your pillow each night you shall recieve." He even inclines his head just a little bit, hearing those last words about the first year to collect. He nods quietly to the statement, returning just as quiet of a response after a moment, "I would never imagine coming into your room without invitation."
Hand removed from her knee, and back to laced over his stomach with his other hand, leaning back into the back of the couch once again. He had a cinnamon muffin in the bag still, so that would be the first delivery. Twenty-nine more to go.
"It's your turn, I presume," he says with a grin. "The second roundabout isn't complete. Would only be unfair to give me two attempts to best you, and you only one chance to show me up in wit." Very sly, playfully wicked grin.

Sybil presses her hand to her chest in mock affront. "But I already -won-!" she exclaims, eyes crinkling with amusement as they lock with his. "But - if you insist. I -suppose- that I could indulge you with another chance to beat me. Be warned though - I've been doing this game for years and know every trick in the book." That she didn't know the one that Myrus already pulled on her might bode ill for such a sweeping statement. She doesn't move from her perch on his knees, however, she simply gives him the most delicious of smiles before tilting her head back, losing him in her eyesight before uttering those fateful words, 'do your worst'.

She's still there on his knees. Her smile draws a smile from him to show his enjoyment. "You know, before I give you your challenge. I want you to know this is quite enjoyable."
Some murmers in the crowd, maybe some giggles at him. He looks at where she is. "Oh, well this is, too." And from the bag he pulls a full muffin. You know, like… it's an entire full-sized muffin. "I'll give you the first delivery right here, m'lady."
And, she'd probably get a look at how big the full muffins are, and happy she'd be getting one every night for a month. Unless she could chew the whole thing while still keeping it balanced. Swallowing with your chin completely raised was difficult enough.. but balancing something there while trying not to cough?
"Let's see how you like them." And he leans forward, nearly body against body to her there perched on his knees, one arm going around the small of her back to lightly hold himself up, and the other behind her back but raising with that full-figured muffin, and his forearm slides up her back, making sure none of her hair gets on it, and he places it flat side down on her forehead. "Watch out, it's kinda crumbly, and as I learned with the milk, all of it has to make it into your mouth."
He lets go of the muffin, and his arms slide over her sides as he leans back, removing himself from touching her other than where she sits now back on his knees, and raises his hands up to either side, laying along the back of the couch on either side of him. "You can start any time you want."

Anthony walks in, and just…. stops. He looks from group to group, as if trying to work out what, precisely, is going on.

"Oh you're such a cheat Myrus!" Sybil only just manages to get this out before Myrus' hands are drifting away, leaving the muffin right in the middle of her forehead. That he's somehow managed to have the largest muffin in the history of Hogwarts, or so it might seem to Sybil, isn't -really- such a problem here. No, its the lean of his body into hers as he places it there and the ever-so accidental distraction he attempts with his hands as he reclines back into the couch. "Ngh. So, so, so mean…" Its all she can really manage as the girls start up a supportive chant of her name, hands clapping along to the rhythm they're creating.


Were cheerleaders invented, Sybs would have her very own right here, and there's a wiggle of her nose given in an attempt to start the muffin on its tortuous journey towards her mouth. Wiggle. Frown. Wiggle. Wig-WOBBLE! "Nooooo!" The cry goes up as one from her supporters as the cake threatens to roll of her face, but the girl's quick. SHE'S FAST! Shifing herself to the side in a terribly Salsa-like move that snakes her hips from left to right, she manages to get her face back under it and clamp her teeth in. As Myrus had promised its particularly crumbly and some breaks off, threatening to send the whole tumbling down and into Myrus' lap.

Myrus is watching with utter ecstatic enjoyment as she's wriggling and writhing with dancelike movements of her body- Bo..dy..
"Huh…" he quotes, as if from a book, "Movements of one's face and gravity is all one may use to get the object to one's mouth. I don't remember body movements being part of the agreement!" He nearly has to shout over the chanting of her name, but he doesn't try to stop her. Oh no. Not yet.
A simple turn of his head, and there's Anthony. "He-ey~, Tony!" He gives a small, simple slow wave to the other boy, then his hand is back to the back of the couch in his lounge-like position.
Let's see her deal with /that/ distraction.

Anthony just looks. "I honestly don't want to know." He stomps towards one of the tables, "Have you _any_ idea, either of you, how undignified that looks?"

"Hmngfloo Antmmpfny" Its hard for Sybil to talk, but it might roughly translate into 'Hello Anthony' if one were intent on deciphering, but its difficult to be absolutely certain, what with a muffin the size of a tennis ball clamped in her mouth. Its dangerously close to breaking and falling, so there's not much more for Tony than that, the girl quickly tilting her head back to the horizontal so she can start working on nibbling her way through the cake. Some might say she should -always- have a mouthful of muffin, certainly its keeping her quiet for now. Indeed, she does a -good- job of whittling away at the cake, crumbs sprinkling both her lap and Myrus'."

Myrus turns into the almost comically critical judge of her movements, but he remains quiet for a time, until she greets Anthony as well with a mouthful of muffin. "You know, trying to talk doesn't help you at all." He notices the crumbs falling to both of their laps.
He nonchalantly points to where the crumbs fell with a gyrating finger, "Wiggly body. Fail." A beat, "Crumbs. Fail."
Aaand, tact was never his strong suit. "You know this image is burned into my head right now. Anthony is right, but my dignity closed up shop a few weeks ago. No muffins for sale there, my friend!" He's musing drably about that, but still watching her intently.

Anthony says, "What -is- the idea of this, anyway? Her eating the muffin without her hands?"

Myrus turns his head to answer Anthony without taking his eyes off of the girl on his knees. "Well, she can only use gravity and facial movements to eat it.. but she's moved her body already, and I told her she failed, but she's still going at it… I guess technically she could let it drop, bend down and eat it where it lands.. but that's quite a risk.."
Blabb. His rambling might have just cost him this little game.

Most of the cake slowly disappears into Sybil's mouth, her cheeks puffed out like a hamster's, and when she can physically fit no more in without the rest falling, she leans forwards. Right forwards. Its a smooth, swift move that's executed to perfection so that the remainder of the cake hits Myrus full on his mouth. And there she keeps it pressed as she works on chewing what's already in her own, her eyes locked firmly on his in epic battle of wills. Around the two of them both sides of the opposing groups start cheering and clapping, hooting and cat-calling. "Mng'm nngnoring em…" she mumbles, words barely discernible as hands press to the back of the couch, either side of his head.

Anthony crosses his arms, disapprovingly. Or possibly enviously.

Myrus blinks long and hard when she leans forward. Bloop. The muffin is pincered there between their lips. The tinge of a smile was all he could manage through the shock of her doing that.. or just of that happening.
Her hands pressed on the back of the couch on either side of his head, the cheering and jeering was fading out fast as he murmers in response, "Nnghnorihg.. hoo?" just out the very corner of his mouth that wasn't pressed with remnant muffin. The crowd obviously already out of his attention completely.
He didn't even notice his hands were clasping the cushy backing of the couch at first, but they slowly release as he stares right back.

Sybil lifts one hand, holding it up in a 'shhh' sort of motion to the other Ravenclaws, working now on eating her way through the remainder of the cake. Oh this girl, she's -such- a competitor and obviously not the sort to give up in the face of adversity. Slowly, slowly, catchee monkey. Eventually the rest of the cake disappears until there's nothing left except the smile that's pressed to Myrus' mouth. And crumbs. Can't have crumbs, not when he's making such a huge deal of the few that are in his lap. A quick sweep of her tongue is given his lips to gather them up and THEN she leans back, punching one hand victoriously into the air.

Anthony says, "You do _realise_… oh, never mind." And he looks for one of the House Elves. "May I have some tea please?"

"SY-BIL! SY-BIL! SY-BIL!" The refrain takes up once more, the girls high-fiving one another.

'Poor' Myrus.
Before the girls are highfiving one another, the guys were cheering on Myrus as Sybil's mouth presses to his with that smile of hers, and then licking his mouth clean of muffin debris.
Myrus, on the other hand, was still faded out from said lip pressing and licking. He catches his breath and all but wakes up from the dreamy dreamland he was just living in for a few moments. "What… the crumbs.. you dropped.." he can't even form a full sentence for several moments after, but then it really sinks in, and his grin grows like he just got a really great valentines day present.
He reaches both hands up to wipe once down his face in hopes to wipe away the shock that still had him in it's vicegrip, but he can't stop smiling up at her. "This is a great game.. Strawberries for round three sometime?"

Anthony just shakes his head, sadly.

Sybil shakes her head and pushes herself up off Myrus' lap. "I won," she says, insistent on claiming victory from him. "And I don't see -any- crumbs. What crumbs?" Oh look at that. As she stands, the edges of her dressing gown sweep him clean and any evidence on her herself sprinkles to the floor to be ground beneath her foot once she's pushed her toes back into her slipper. A tilt of her head and a generous smile to the 'loser' as she makes a sweeping bow to the ring of spectators.

Rus sees her get up, and he was apparently lost on what crumbs she was referring to. Probably the ones on his lips that she lapped up. He's immediately greeted with those same males that were snickering earlier patting him on the shoulder and congratulating him on the greatest loss since… ever!
Myrus ignores them, knowing what kind of flakes they are. "You trio just go snicker at someone else. Two-faced skinks.." he says quietly to those three, but the others there do get returned highfives and smiles. Probably because those three are known for that.
He looks at Sybil through the crowd that's ever-thickening between them. "I want a rematch!" But that will have to wait until later. For now, he'll just have to ensure he has fresh muffins tomorrow.

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