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A strawberry sorbet. A chilly creamy confectionery crafted from the flesh of fresh fruit. If Gratia Mindaro were to name a single positive to attending this atrocity of a cruise, it would be the presence of the large variety of luxury treats, provided to all the passengers without a cost. The intensely sweet flavour that danced upon her tongue, icy to the tongue, had made sure of that. It was to be expected that this ship would have such high quality food; those wealthy fools needed something to use all that money they shat out of their asses daily on, after all. So for as long as she was trapped on this accursed vessel, she would not waste the opportunity.

The Mistralese teenager had, after a moment of thought, grabbed herself a sorbet before returning once more to the balcony, quietly enjoying the confectionery even as she took in the salty ocean air. Her headphones were still blaring music into her ears, isolating her from the irritating nonsense that seemed to be an ever present quality of the rest of the world. Her food sat comfortably in her hands, and every once in a while she would take a spoonful of the sorbet and deposit it in her mouth.

That was all there was to it.