[center][b]Roald Cliffbloom - Ratling Trailblazer[/b][/center]

They were on the precipice of engaging in a most sanctimonious ecclesiastical Imperial embarkation.  The righteous right hand of Him, ensuring that his will be done on each and every of the trillion billion planets in the billion million galaxies of this, his glori....oooooooh.

"Roast Beef" with "Gravy Sauce"

That was Roald's favorite.  Whatever it actually was.  Grimri had gone and got him hungry with all that talk of pies.  It was hard to focus on the triumvirate manifestation of the transubstantiation of Him when only moments ago you were thinking about pie and at this very moment you're staring at some sort of "meat" dripping with some sort of "gravy".  Willpower will only take you so far, you understand.  After all Roald was only (ab)Human.

"Oi," he said sliding into a seat across from Grimri after carefully placing his plate on the table.  His eyes fixed with a silent steely determination he deftly scooched the plate further and further across the table until it rested directly between the Squat and himself.  It was delicate work.  The "meat" was piled, offset ever so slightly and topped with copious amounts of "gravy," the rolls were set just far off enough to the side to not get any of the sauce on them.  Truly a marvel of Ratling engineering.

Roald glanced at the silent Squat as he began the work of orchestrating his meal.  Roll torn in half.  Saucy Meat shoved inside.  Roll squished down.  Entire assembly pushed into mouth.  Complicated business.

"Ye know," he said with an open mouth, gravy dribbling out one corner of his mouth and down his chin, "since you was talkin' about pies, ye know da best pie is Sauerabfel.  Proper Ratlin' Sauerabfel pie.  Wit' real Sauerabfels too not da canned shit you might find in commissary one day if ye get real lucky."

"But," he continued without looking up, eyes still peeled on his mountain of food and hands busy at the readying and distributing of the food into his waiting mouth.  It was remarkable really, like an assembly line only more impressive, a true demonstration of coordination and agility and all that.

"If you gonna have a Proper Ratlin' Sauerabfel Pie well then youse gotta eat it the right way.  Just like I'm doing here ya know.  There's a proper way.  You use real Sauerabfels, that's Abfels that are a little sour ya know, and bake 'em in a pie."  

His count was off.  He had eaten all the roast beef sandwiches now, or at least he had shoved them all in his mouth and was slowly working away at them, but he had one roll left.  Snatching victory from the claws of defeat he finished working the meat around in his mouth, swallowed with some effort, and found a most fortunate purpose for that final roll.  There was gravy yet to be collected and enjoyed.  Most economical, nothing left to waste.  The Logistics department folk would be proud of ol' Roald today.

"All that's obvious enough ye?  But da secret, da secret is you eat it wit' plain ol' vanilla ice cream and a slice of cheddar cheese.  A nice big thick slice of cheddar, weird as it sounds, it just brings it all together it does."

"Best pie you ever had, I guarantee." Roald finished after swallowing that last roll, wiping the gravy from his face with a napkin, and looking up for the first time since his grand adventure of eliminating every last bit of "beef" and "gravy from his plate had begun.