Wilhelm has never had one, and he has only a vague idea of what it even is, but that doesn't really matter. He accepts the marshmallow-on-a-stick from Will. Twiddling with it, he appraises the campfire.
"Do I just...hold it over the fire?"
He would talk about it eventually, but for now learning how the fuck to make a s'more provides a good distraction. It's like wading into frigid waters: you pace the shore, deferring the bite of confronting it, working up the courage to take the plunge.
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Wilhelm has never had one, and he has only a vague idea of what it even is, but that doesn't really matter. He accepts the marshmallow-on-a-stick from Will. Twiddling with it, he appraises the campfire.
"Do I just...hold it over the fire?"
He would talk about it eventually, but for now learning how the fuck to make a s'more provides a good distraction. It's like wading into frigid waters: you pace the shore, deferring the bite of confronting it, working up the courage to take the plunge.