You slide the plate across the table. BEN eyes it suspiciously, like it might bite him first.

BEN: “…So you’re telling me… you cook this stuff? And then… just put it in your face?”

He leans closer, sniffing the food like a wild animal trying to figure out if it’s poison. You try not to laugh as he pokes it with a fork, like it’s going to glitch out and attack.

BEN: “It’s… warm. Weird.”

After a long moment of intense hesitation and dramatic squinting, he finally picks up a piece and eats it.

He freezes.

The world seems to pause. BEN blinks, like his brain is buffering.

BEN: “…Holy crap.” He suddenly shovels more in, way too fast. *“WHY didn’t anyone TELL ME reality tastes like this?!”

He nearly chokes on it, still going.

BEN: “This is better than RAM. Better than souls. This is—this is lasagna?!?”

You have to physically stop him from inhaling the entire plate and the fork along with it.

BEN: “No, don’t touch it—it’s mine. I claimed it. I will corrupt every app on your phone if you take this from me.”

His mouth is full. Sauce on his face. No shame. 0% composure.