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"Is black tea all you have?"
"No."
"Then green tea it is," the True Creator said casually. After taking a pleased sip, he deliberately stirred things up. "Why aren't you drinking?"
The humanoid creature sitting across the table looked up at him for two seconds. "To put it in terms of your own kind, would you want a hot cup of bloody water brewed from an animal's flesh, blood, and skin? You might as well give me a bottle of vodka."
"Trees can drink alcohol?" The True Creator looked appalled. "If you have any, hurry up and get me two bottles too!"
"Then I suggest you go drink industrial alcohol."
The Monarch of Decay picked up an enamel mug bearing the words "Labor is most glorious" with one hand and blew on the scalding tea. His practiced movements, posture, and expression made him look just like an old man strolling through a park and watching people play chess. He looked to be in his thirties, yet an inescapable air of age clung to him.
Under the True Creator's shocked gaze, he nonchalantly gulped down several mouthfuls of "hot bloody water brewed from an animal's flesh, blood, and skin," then smacked his lips. "Surprised? Plants prey on one another too. They aren't my kind, anyway. Even if they were, I could still eat them."
The True Creator looked intrigued. Whenever they discussed the civilization he originally came from, he was always particularly animated. But the Monarch of Decay did not linger on the subject. He cupped the enamel mug in both hands, drawing the tea's warmth through his palms as the roots beneath his cloak curled up comfortably.
"How about some purple-wrapped candy with afternoon tea? I want cheesecake too."
"Sure." He took another large mouthful of green tea. "I