Title: A Dish Best Served Cold (1/7)
Prompt: Gluttony; #12 Orange
Word Count: 230-ish
Someone kept eating all the ruttin' cookies.
Not that it really bothered River as she was learning how to cook, and if they kept disappearing every night then she had another excuse each morning to make more. After finding the orange ceramic plate peppered with only a few crumbs from the fifth batch, she asked, politely, if the culprit would please leave some for the rest of them. The crew simply looked at each other over half-empty dinner plates, trying their best to decide who was guilty.
Once the eighth batch was gone, Zoe started taking bets. It was 5-1 on Jayne, with River abstaining. She didn't want to place blame without concrete proof. And she wasn't really one to wager.
No. She was not playing the odds; guesses and supposition were neither truth nor fact. And she was a stickler for both. So, for the ninth batch she made a trip to the infirmary. 'This batch will be special,' she thought as she mixed in an additional ingredient.
The look on Jayne's face the next day as he ran for the head, arms wrapped around his gut in pain, was priceless. The stench that permeated the ship worth every loud-mouth curse hurled her way. His discomfort made River giggle so hard that she couldn't breathe, and repeated tales of this anecdote said that she had "died laughing."
But at least she knew he liked her cooking.