There's another huff of air, a wider grin, and though Bagoas' eyes are bright there comes a spark from their very depths. Flexing his fingers around Glitch's, he ducks his head and clears his throat as he slides the basket precisely between them. To the left, a few rows of Palmier biscuits covered by slick, nearly see-through greaseproof paper, and to the right a bright blue plastic bag, its handles and sides neatly rolled down to reveal a mound of the strangest berries Bagoas has ever seen: clusters of easily a dozen minuscule berries, clinging to each other to create a dome of vibrant, matted pink. Though matted, they catch the sunlight like tiny precious stones.

Glancing at his friend, he picks out one of the small berry clusters delicately between thumb and forefinger, holding it up for closer scrutiny. Deeming it good enough, he brings it before Glitch's lips. There for the taking, as it were.