Andreas sighed, resting his cheek in his hand and his elbow on the table. “Punish me, I suppose,” he muttered. “I refuse to eat that. I’ve lived more than two hundred years without vegetables of any kind. I don’t need them, I don’t like them, and I don’t want them.”<br/><br/>“...Besides,” he offered, “How do you know I’m not allergic to carrots? More reasonably though, after 218 years without any, my body would almost certainly have a negative reaction to them. Just make me more chicken; I’m starving.” Andreas paused, narrowing his eyes at the maid. “By the way, just how do you think you could punish me?” He raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious. She knew he liked feeling pain almost as much as he liked dealing it out.