Breakfast in the Hold's main dining room.
All of them.
Otto had arranged the pastries. Despite his best efforts at restraint the night before, he had apparently gotten up early and organised them by type on three separate plates with the specific energy of someone who had been managing his emotions all morning through the medium of baked goods.
"You arranged them," I said.
"I presented them," he said. "There's a difference."
"You made a display," I said.
"I created an accessible format," he said. "For efficient selection."
"Otto."
"The almond ones are in the centre because they're the best and they'll go first and I want people to have equal access to the best ones," he said, at speed.
"That's—" I started.
"Very sweet," Tobias said.
"Very Otto," I said.
"Same thing," Tobias sai
