When Malinda arrived at 2 Kirk Street, Arthur was sifting and mixing flour. The toasted flour gave off a distinctive aroma, and to make it more filling while still keeping it reasonably tasty, Arthur had added plenty of peanut oil, crushed sesame, and beef jerky.
Salt and sugar, too, of course.
Watching Arthur work hard kneading the mixture, Malinda inhaled, drawing all the drifting smoke into her body. Even the pipe in her hand disappeared.
Malinda knew Arthur disliked smoke.
In fact, she often used that to tease him.
But that was in their downtime.
When she was properly "on the job," Malinda would not let her smoke bother Arthur.
"You even know how to make 'military rations'?"
Malinda sounded a little surprised.
She was absolutely certain Arthur was making military rations.
Because she had made them herself.
Their recipes might differ slightly; she preferred adding more crushed peanuts and milk.
But the process was the same.
Toast the flour, sift it, mix it, then compress it in molds.
Finally, wrap each piece in kraft paper.
Everyone in her oceangoing fleet received an allotted supply, just in case.
"What military rations? These are just emergency biscuits.
I'm simply expanding my snack repertoire-making them myself gives me peace of mind."
Arthur rolled his eyes, reminding Malinda to use the right terminology.
"Oh, yes, of course!
Snacks that keep you from going hungry for a whole day with a single piece!"
Malinda gave Arthur the middle finger.
"For other people, yes.
But for me?
Every piece is a snack."
Arthur spoke matter-of-factly.
His tone made Malinda want to kick him.
Because...
Everything Arthur said was true.
Malinda had witnessed how much Arthur ate "this morning" with her own eyes.
Her breathing immediately quickened.
Instinctively, she wanted another puff.
But seeing Arthur busy