"I guess you never know. Maybe the spirits like fried hair." They've eaten more dubious things before, from what he's seen.

"Did it just hand you that, then? I guess you could ask for something else. Or I saw some sort of fried bread thing down that way," he says, pointing toward a stand in the distance. Smells good, actually - sweet and spiced. But even if he could taste it, he wouldn't want to, because bread is atrocious.

And no, he's not going to try the crispy fried hair, either, or whatever that is, as he continues to make no move to even touch it.