"Ah, thank you," she says automatically, taking the toothpick and popping the cheese into her mouth. She chews and keeps the toothpick in her mouth to chew on, as always endlessly ladylike when she isn't thinking about it. She still has an empty shopping basket hanging from one arm. She spares Austria a quick glance and then goes back to studiously examining the row of packaged, room temperature, 'ready to microwave' stews and entrees. Basically, MREs in disguise. Speaking with her mouth full of cheese and toothpick—again, totally elegant maiden—"I don't know why someone would want to eat rations if you have the choice."
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