when I beg abjectly for rescue and tremulously hold out my little bowl of orphan gruel—” “What.” Avra cupped his hands in front of him in illustration. “I am an orphan, and the only possession I have to my name is a little bowl! I ask for barely anything but a spoonful of gruel so I don’t starve to death in the freezing cold winter!” “We’re barely north of the tropics.” “It’s a metaphor, Teveri! Even in the tropics, you’re miserly with my orphan gruel!”
