Blueish Cheese - Short Affair 22/08/2016

[otherhawk.livejournal.com]

Prompt word - mature
Prompt colour - blue
Word count - 475

Blueish Cheese

Napoleon silently dropped down from the ledge onto the mossy cave floor, narrowly avoiding kicking Illya in the head.

“Good morning, Napoleon. Did you sleep well?”

“I have a crick in my neck that may never come out.” He rubbed at it irritably, grimacing at the pain. “What I wouldn't give for my nice soft bed right about now. Any sign of THRUSH?”

Illya looked up at him briefly. “Yes, they were here earlier for breakfast and we had a pleasant conversation. I decided not to wake you.”

He sighed, gingerly crouching down on the damp moss. “It's too early for sarcasm, pal.”

“It is never too early for sarcasm.” He said it like it was a profound observation on the nature of the world.

With very little effort, Napoleon decided to ignore him. “What food do we have left?”

Illya pulled the bag over and took a look. “Crackers, jerky, chocolate and some of that cheese from the farm.”

“Is it still good?” he asked suspiciously, watching as his partner unwrapped it.

“Yes,” said Illya, flying in the face of all available evidence. “This is merely a little mould. It is nothing that cannot be scraped away.”

His nose wrinkled. “I'll pass, thanks.”

“I have seen you eat blue cheese before,” Illya said with a shrug, scraping away it the offending – offensive – cheese with his pocket knife. “I fail to see the difference.”

“I prefer my mould added deliberately,” he said dryly. “You can't compare a fine piece of Roquefort to a bit of old cheese that's been left in a cave too long.”

“Ah.” Illya's smile was triumphant. “Actually I can, since legend tells that is precisely how Roquefort came to be. Apparently the creator of Roquefort cheese was a young shepherd, who got distracted from his duties, and his lunch, when a beautiful girl walked by. He was rather like you in that regard, Napoleon.”

“Haha," he said in a monotone.

“When he eventually returned to the cave and found the cheese again, many months later, he found that it was now finely veined with blue mould. On tasting it, he found it mature and flavoursome.”

“He ate it?” Napoleon asked dubiously. “A piece of mouldy cheese he found in a cave? I think this guy and his iron stomach had more in common with you than me, pal.”

Illya shrugged. “I would have taken my lunch with me in the first place, were I so inclined to be distracted by a pretty face.” He popped the cheese in his mouth and Napoleon shook his head slowly, watching him eat. “There is plenty of jerky left for you.”

“I'll be sure and enjoy that,” he smiled. “You should get some sleep. Take care that cheese doesn't give you nightmares.”

Illya sighed huffily.

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[pfrye.livejournal.com]

As do I!