<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/sTBpBUf.jpg)</div><strong>NAME:</strong>Alexander Greyhallow (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=347468.msg16379290#msg16379290)<br/>(Optional)<strong>WEARING:</strong>Black boots, black trousers, black shirt<br/><strong>LOCATION:</strong>DARKEST Vancouver Institute Kitchen<br/><strong>TIME:</strong>Thursday July 6th, 2023 | Just before 5 PM<br/><strong>CONTENT:</strong>Food uneaten? Not on Alexander's watch!<br/><strong>TAGGING:</strong>Open; Kaspian Herondale, Kiara Skye<br/><hr/><br/>Should Alexander<em>really</em>be up and about right now? No. Were the infirmary staff willing to put up with more of him? Also no. So Alexander was turned loose from the infirmary and now he was everyone else in the Institute's problem. Nobody had come through for Alexander and brought him quesadillas, and his lunch had been a sandwich, some juice, and a few apple slices. In all honesty the quesadillas that the Institute commissary made were not the greatest, but they were better than a dry ham sandwich with a thin slice of dry ham, a rumour of mustard, and a Kraft single. It was something, and Alexander was not completely ungrateful that he got that, but neither was he a happy boy whose stomach was filled with quesadilla and salsa.<br/><br/>Unlike Kaspian, and really, unlike himself, Alexander entered the kitchen in a stealthy manner. His intention was reconnaissance. He made no sound as he entered, disturbing nothing, and his footfalls made no sound to betray his presence. All of his movements were soft and seamlessly, without any sudden or jerky movements to draw the eyes. A ninja master would simultaneously be green with envy and afflicted with a case of terminal priapism at just how absolutely stealthy Alexander was. If they could distill Alexander down into a liquid and pour it onto a stealth bomber it would be like something out of a science fiction author's wettest dreams of the far future.<br/><br/>So it was that Alexander approached the baking sheets left to cool, unguarded and unattended - but then who expected subterfuge in their own home? - and Alexander pilfered not one, not two, but three chicken tenders for himself. Was it immoral? No. All was fair in . . . food and eating. Probably. The point was that as Alexander finished that third chicken tender, he did not feel particularly bad about the ramifications for Kiara's recipe. So while Kaspian was a noble man, asking for permission, Alexander was favoured by fortune for his boldness. Those tenders could not be uneaten.<br/><br/>"It's pretty good stuff." Alexander said from behind the two of them. "Those tenders? Yum yum." He made a chef's kiss gesture with his left hand. "So whatcha making, K-bud?" Alexander asked Kiara with a stupid, cocky grin. "Sup, K-man?" The Shadowhunter said in equally familiar, casual manner to Kaspian.