[ Watching Mordred eat is a like watching a train wreck in motion. She picks up the first piece of bread and starts tearing her way through it as if there's an invisible timer ticking down somewhere... and, of course, she talks with her mouth still half full. ]

Not bad, mouse. Not bad at all. I don't know why, but it tastes oddly cozy. [ She swallows and reaches for the tea; her eyebrows scrunched in thought as she sips. ]

Tch... if my father were here, he wouldn't care at all about the taste. He ate everything with the exact same look on his face, even though it was the dullest, most blandest shit imaginable! And we all lied like idiots and said it was good too, 'cause none of us wanted to disagree with the king! Damn! That place was really hell!

[ Having worked herself up, she slams the tea back down and rips into the next piece of toast, growling like an angry dog. ]