It's a pie. Maybe not particularly skillfully, but lovingly made, a whole apple pie made of real fresh fruit, and there are pumpkin muffins and fresh pears and oranges. Sugar, fruit, citrus, fresh food. Things they couldn't have in the war. Things he's positive that Radar has had since coming to the island, but there are few comforts that can be matched by that of having something good and warm to eat.
"This is for you," he says, handing off the basket. There's a cutting knife in there, the blade wrapped in cloth and twine. "Share this with anybody you like today. Happy birthday, Radar."
(He can't remember how exactly old he is with the timeline distortions, but that's less important than remembering the day.)
no subject
It's a pie. Maybe not particularly skillfully, but lovingly made, a whole apple pie made of real fresh fruit, and there are pumpkin muffins and fresh pears and oranges. Sugar, fruit, citrus, fresh food. Things they couldn't have in the war. Things he's positive that Radar has had since coming to the island, but there are few comforts that can be matched by that of having something good and warm to eat.
"This is for you," he says, handing off the basket. There's a cutting knife in there, the blade wrapped in cloth and twine. "Share this with anybody you like today. Happy birthday, Radar."
(He can't remember how exactly old he is with the timeline distortions, but that's less important than remembering the day.)