Red shakes her head with another snort, turning her attention back to her meal. At least it smells right.

Scribble, meanwhile, peers up at Ray curiously. She doesn't understand the blowtorch either, but she finds Ray far more interesting. He gives out food. She glances around for a moment, squeaks, and runs off. A few minutes later she returns with a ratty, dusty rope octopus that she had apparently ferreted away somewhere, and drops it at Ray's feet.