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Bolaire delicately plucked a single morsel from the jar to hold up to the light, eyeing it with suspicion. It had been molded into the rough shape of a miniaturized and disproportionately thick orange slice, but that was where the illusion stopped—the whole piece was a uniform, translucent dull orange. He gave it an experimental squeeze between his thumb and forefinger, and the whole thing deformed under the pressure, firm and uniformly springy. The bulging sides returned to their usual shape as the pressure released.
Azune propped his forearms comfortably on the table, watching his inspection.
“This,” said Bolaire, his lip curling in distaste, “is fruit leather.”
Azune's eyebrows rose and his head tilted to the side, as if that might shake a more sensible response loose. “It's… definitely not,” he said.
“Then it's molded fruit leather. It's whatever they put into that rubbish, made to look like a doll's orange slice as if that improves matters.”
“OK…” said Azune, slowly. “I guess I see some resemblance, but this is gelatin-based, and I'm pretty sure fruit leather is just dried fruit puree, so this is more like a very solidified fruit jam?”
Bolaire gave him a withering look.
Azune raised his hands. “I understand that doesn't necessarily address your objection. I'm just trying to define terms here.”
“Solidified jam hardly sounds like an improvement,” said Bolaire tartly.
“It doesn't,” Azune agreed instantly. “But I told you they were jellies when I gave them to you, so repeating that wasn't likely to help clarify.”
Bolaire scrutinized the label on the jar. “This says 'nutrient gummi pastilles.'”
Azune shrugged. “Thaisha calls them 'jellies' when she makes them. Those are from the market.”
“Hmmph,” said Bolaire, begrudgingly noting Thaisha's implicit endorsement. “'Gummi' is Helvanic,” he noted.
“Is it?” said Azune, curiously. “I've heard it used for these, but I didn't know it came from Helvar.”
“Yes. It means 'rubber.'”
“Oh.” Azune grimaced. “Well, on the bright side, my 'solidified jam' description sounds a lot better by comparison!”
“Were I convinced that these concoctions warranted consumption,” Bolaire said dryly, “then, yes, I would probably choose 'solidified jam' over 'rubber,' but I fail to see why I should wish to partake of them in the first place.”
“They're not sweets for the sake of sweets,” said Azune, patiently. “You can get jellies that are just sweets, but these have nutrients in them specifically to make up for ones you aren't getting enough from the rest of what you eat.” He raised an eyebrow pointedly. “Speaking of which…”
“Oh, don't start. I am feeding the damned thing.” His stomach chose that precise moment to growl loudly. “Oh, fuck off!” Bolaire snapped at his own body.
A glance at Azune found him shaking with suppressed laughter, but Bolaire's instinctive spike of fury was blunted by the unabashed fondness in Azune's eyes as he tried, unsuccessfully, to smother his grin. Azune pushed off from the table and slipped a hand casually, familiarly, around Bolaire's arm. “Come on. Let me buy you supper,” he said, tugging him lightly towards the door.
Bolaire sighed and acquiesced, leaving the jar behind on the tabletop. It wasn't until they'd reached the street that he realized the offending orange “jelly” remained in his hand. As tempting as it was to discard, Azune would wear him down eventually, so he might as well get it over with. He popped it into his mouth and chewed experimentally.
To be fair (though he did not want to be fair), it did taste fairly genuinely of orange, not too cloyingly sweet, and the texture was not as rubbery as he'd feared. Firm, but giving way readily between his teeth. Hmm.
“So,” he said, “these are to replace food?”
“Hmm?” said Azune. “Oh, no! In addition to food; they're supposed to help compensate if you're not getting enough of some type of food, like fruits or greens or something, that have important nutrients. Like how sailors have to bring citrus fruits and stuff so their teeth don't start falling out.” (He thought that was how that worked? Oh, well, he was no sailor, but Bolaire could surely connect the dots.) “So the idea is if you eat one per day—”
“Every day? Why does every little thing have to be done daily?” Bolaire threw up his hands as Azune chuckled beside him. “Who designed these cursed maintenance requirements? I have some very strongly worded notes.”
“Um, I think you helped kill one of the responsible parties.”
Bolaire sighed. “True. So they're probably not going to take my notes. I have them nonetheless.”