Missile just pinched the bridge of her nose, rubbing her thumb against the side it was against as she stared at the sharkman. "Any other day, I'd insist he [i]do[/i] get it. But the pantry might be a little wrecked; the Boar's drunk as a duck downstairs." She just tilted her head, not intimidated in the slightest by Bruce's irritation - if anything she was [i]impressed[/i]! Of all the things to finally piss him off, it was about a pastry. "If anything, he should get the pear tart instead. Pears and chicken go together far better than apples and chicken, anyway." Her thumb rubbed against the end of her nose a bit as it wrinkled, still smelling the foul odor from the shapeshifter earlier in the day. The smell had buried deep in her sinus cavity and she'd never forget how badly it reeked. "Not to say the cobbler's not great. It is. But the cobbler he's familiar with-" She pointed a thumb at Kresnik, "-is probably different to the one made here." She smiled lightly. "You know I love the cobbler here, Bruce. Don't get angry."