Chapter 23: The Saloon

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It was nine ante meridian and Abigail had called Mark and Ellie (and reluctantly Glomgold) down for breakfast, much to Mark's displeasure. Homeboy wanted to sleep until noon. At the least.

Ellie eyed him up and down in his new 1800s western attire. "You look glaikit."

Mark looked down at himself and smiled. "Aw thanks, babe! You look glaikit, too!"

Little did he know, that was the opposite of a compliment. Ellie understood his IQ was too low to understand so she ignored him before exiting the room to head downstairs for breakfast. Mark was quick to follow and with his phone glued to his face before Ellie practically slapped it out of his hand. He was about to throw a tantrum but got the message when he saw Abigail with her back turned, and quickly put it in his pocket.

"Good morning, Abigail." Ellie greeted. "Breakfast smells lovely." She couldn't smell but food was on the counter so assuming would have to do.

It should be mentioned Glomgold was already at the table, vibrating like a frenzied sound wave in his seat as he impatiently waited for the food.

Abigail smiled. "Thank you. Come! Have a seat!"

The three of them sat around the table... as far away as they could from Glomgold. Abigail had already set the variety of bowls and plates on the table, opening it up for anyone to take as much as they wanted.

Mark grabbed for the bowl of grits before Glomgold hissed and slapped his hand away with a wooden spoon.

"OI! HANDS OFF MEH GRITS, BEAKSSSSSS!"

"Owwwww! G-gold! Not cool!" Mark rubbed his hand before grabbing a biscuit.

Glomgold didn't even bother to pile the grits onto his plate. He grabbed the entire bowl and started chugging the grits down, making ungodly noises while doing so. A lot of the grits that he didn't catch with his mouth fell onto his lap. Whatever. He'd figured it would be a snack for later.

Mark grabbed what he wanted and quietly started to eat. The fact he wasn't complaining about the food surprised literally everyone. Ellie only sat there and watched everyone around her eat.

The previous night she hadn't eaten anything either, obviously, but Mark was able to cover her by saying she was already asleep and shouldn't be interrupted. This time around she had no idea what to do. A large part of southern hospitality, especially in the 1800s, was to accept and eat food prepared no matter what. Especially when you were a guest.

Thank Duck Jesus Alonzo wasn't present because he would probably throw a fit over Ellie refusing to eat.

She ended up making awkward eye contact with Abigail who was staring at her, waiting for her to take a plate. Ellie smiled in return.

"I apologize. I am not feeling so well..."

"Oh dear! Should I fetch you a doctor?" Abigail leaned forward and put a hand on Ellie's forehead. "You don't seem to be running a fever..."

"No no," Ellie tried to lean away from her. Being made out of metal, it was quite obvious at touch. "Just your average morning sickness."

Abigail pulled her hand away. "I understand. Just let me know whenever you do want to eat."

Glomgold finally finished downing all of the grits. He slammed the bowl down on the table and wiped his beak with his sleeve. "I WANT MOREEEEEEE!"

"There's more on the table. You would like some-"

"NO, STOOPID GORL! I WANT MORE GRITS! GIMMEAH!"

Abigail was clearly shaken up by how Glomgold was speaking to her. She nodded and quickly grabbed the bowl away from him. "A-alright. It'll take a few minutes..." She hurried into the kitchen to set the bowl down before returning to the table to eat.

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