Small victories, he supposes. At least not all of them were singed. Noctis noticed that sliding of the jar over, but doesn't comment on it. Mainly because he's staring at the offending object on his plate.

Ivory is not even blinking.

OK, fine. He'll... try it.

Noct spears it with his fork, brings it to his mouth. He tries to ignore the way the moogles seem to lean closer to get a look, and-