"When the guy with the ‘stache served up that little something sweet for his third course I thought he might have tripped himself up, but I see what he was doing there.” Cervantes popped another cap off a cold beverage as things were heating up in the arena. “His first two courses were strong, gritty, that second one starting off hot and dry then oily in the middle then cool and refreshing leading into that sweet third course. Yeah, he was clearing the palate. That’s what he was doing. He was making way for something completely different from the previous two. Well played.”
Dulcinea turned her head very slowly to see who was sitting next to her. It sounded like her friend’s voice and looked like him, but she wasn’t entirely certain. The words seemed rational.
“As for the challenger, I’ll be interested to see his next course. The first two have been intense, rich in flavor and well-crafted. Will he switch it up with something more mellow, a subtler blending of ingredients? Or will he opt to steadily build towards a crescendo and possibly risk overwhelming the tastes of the judges? Hm. It’s a tough call. But as the challenger he’s got to make those difficult decisions. Life in the arena is full of risks for both Iron Writer and the Challenger.” He met Dulcinea’s wide gaze. “What?”
“Nothing, sweetpea. Just enjoying you enjoying the competition.”
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