Soirée (2) Daniel felt a stranger in the large house. His suit did not make him stand out, but his size did. Oh, there were several people in the hall who greeted him and entertained some socialising, but there was no real connection. He longed for the company of the people of the Pricosine, or the comfort of his own space in his apartment. A large buffet, spanning almost a dozen of tables, was opened in an adjoining room. Daniel had not a clue what most of the food was, so he picked from the large plates carefully. "Lavish, isn't it?" someone asked Daniel, who was studying a plate with curly pink things. It was Warlem, the poet and shame of the family. "It is, indeed. And I don't know most of it either," Daniel confessed. He had taken an immediate liking to this young man who was one of the few normal people here, as far as he was concerned. "Those are safe," Warlem pointed at the pink curlies. "Avoid the green vegetables if you do not like sour food, and the yellow cubes over there are sweet." He picked one from the bowl.
