[ Someone else has a distinct lack of greens on his plate, namely the six-foot man opposite Lagertha busy inspecting a leg of ... not chicken, but something decidedly red. Biting into it, he hastily spits out the spicy flavour that goes far beyond anything Trader Johann ever brought to Berk. ]
Eugh, Thor's beard, what the —! Hot, hot, 'scuse me.
[ Don't mind the way he pushes by to snatch up a goblet of mead, trying to douse the spices all over his tongue. He coughs, setting his plate of meats aside to properly chug his drink down, wiping off his mouth on a vambrace after. ]
wheezes !!
Eugh, Thor's beard, what the —! Hot, hot, 'scuse me.
[ Don't mind the way he pushes by to snatch up a goblet of mead, trying to douse the spices all over his tongue. He coughs, setting his plate of meats aside to properly chug his drink down, wiping off his mouth on a vambrace after. ]
G-Gods.