{{ U mad? }}

((No, I'm disgusted.))

{{ Same thing.

Got anything to say, Morg? }}

((Think about it like when you eat basically any processed food-as long as it tastes good, what does it matter what it's made out of?))

((I use worse ingredients. Don't fail me, loyal customers!))

((You could run a McDonalds at this rate.))

Omi stiffly begins walking toward the storeroom, picking up momentum as he left the coins behind. Wyerden smiled inwardly, taking vicarious pride in his host's achievement. He began to slowly let down the barriers on the yordle's hunger and weakness as the door opened. Omi frooze on the threashold, taking in the room filled completely with random clothing and objects that had been left on the shop throughout the years. "Perhaps we should order something..." Wyerden thought as Omi's stomach churned.