The beast shakes its head at steamed mocchi buns.

It seems to like blackened tuna Belly.

But is not so fond of pineapple parfait served in a crystal glass.

Would the beast like a banana?

No, the beast does not want your banana.

Derpy enjoys the remnants of blurberry cobbler, then waddles up, pushing a heavy pot of black bean chili.

Witchchylde rustles up a mega sized order of spicy buffalo wings with blue cheese dressing and delivers it piping hot and fresh to the Beast.

*after a meeting with a few swishy fishies, I offer a sheep-sized, spicy garlic jumbo shrimp* -u- ~+

With a grumpy look on its face the beast knocks Derpy's pot of black bean chili over.

However once it sees Witchchylde approach with spicy buffalo wings with blue cheese dressing, its face lightens up. The beast devours the wings with great appetite.

Afterwards it might no longer be hungry at the moment... or well, neither interested in Merskelly's spicy garlic jumbo shrimp nor Espy's orange slice dipped in dark chocolate at least.

Derpy stands amidst the spilled chili, bawling because he thought the beast was his friend, but that was mean.
Feelings hurt, he grabs the blackened tuna Belly and runs away to befriend Pengore instead.

Alrighty, would the beast like some broccoli beef? (Granted none of it gets stolen....)

Roars and hisses follow Derpy as the tiny dragon escapes with the blackened tuna belly. With a claw the beast scratches Derpy's silhouette in the cave wall it uses to keep track of its enemies. Telling from the stone carvings, the way to get off the list again is to return with some delicious food.

Beast then returns to the deepest depths of the cave and curls up in a corner. KittyBeary's broccoli beef does not lure it back out.

uhn no idea what could it be but I'll try a key lime pie

As the beast still holds a grudge against mdom, she decides against entering the cave and simply places key lime pie near the entrance. Several hours pass, but no beast comes out of hiding to take the food.

"Mutton yesterday, mutton today, and blimey if it don't look like mutton again tomorrow," Witchchylde quotes as she hauls behind her an enormous tureen of creole jambalaya, redolent of cayenne and crayfish. Settling it inside the entrance, she wipes her brow and dries her hands on a checkered kerchief, adds a "Hoo boy, you gonna sweat from dat, I guarantee," before backing away from the cave.

Wait, shit, now *I* want jambalaya.