Glace's eyes light up as she sees you - just as she has given up hope, her desire is finally within reach. The chance, that she might finally be eaten. That she might fulfill the purpose her pastry body was created for and at long last fade into sweet oblivion between another's teeth. She grabs a large piece of her cut-off palm and, with a slight smile, stretches it out to you. Her face shows no pain, only longing. Please have some. I'm still fresh, and I promise I taste good despite my looks.