“Mmm…” Pattern said from beside the door, where he was watching for Adolin. “What?” Radiant asked him. “You like irony now too?” “Irony tastes good. Like sausage.” “And have you ever tasted sausage?” “I don’t believe I have a sense of taste,” Pattern said. “So irony tastes like what I imagine sausage would taste like when I’m imagining tastes.” Radiant rubbed her forehead,
