Malta

[peace_inthe_violence]

This is a fairy tale of blood and bullets
It is the story of three men and three women and a small island between Italy and Africa.
This is a story about tragedy and pain, about healing and hope, but mostly it is about
love.

Comments

[peace_inthe_violence]

Her joke actually earned her a chuckle and a mischievous smirk as the man bit into the fried dough. His mirth was quickly forgotten in favor of making a pleased humming sound as he chewed, claiming a chair that was within easy reaching distance to the plates.

"You didn't wake me, sorellina. She did." He gestured at Andy with his half eaten beignet. "I'm pretty certain she danced on my bladder when she got up." He made a face at the older woman, though it was quickly gone in favor of shoving the last half of his treat into his mouth.

"I smelled the food, though, so I came to investigate. This is delicious. When did you start the dough? Did I miss it in the fridge yesterday?"

[notariver]

She considered, just for a moment, teasing about having missed a mixing bowl in the fridge, but decided against it, just shaking her head again, smiling a little, "Didn't miss anything, baking soda dough instead of yeast, so totally a chemical reaction instead of having to wait for microorganisms to do their thing."

A nod towards Andy in turn, "We were just talking about making sure I've got room for a mixing bowl in the fridge to do actual yeast ones sometime, though. I just don't usually have that kind of patience."