thepenultimateword:
Short Prompt #51
CW: poison testing, food
Supervillain rested their chin on the back of their hand, staring at Henchman dreamily as they took a dainty bite of creamed potatoes.
“Please, have some more.” They waved at the long table covered with food, from hot honey buttered rolls to slick roasted pork, falling off the bone.
“Um…one bite is enough,” Henchman said, passing yet another tasting spoon to the server at their shoulder and selecting a new, clean one for the next dish. When Supervillain did not lift their gaze, they nervously murmured, “You may begin eating the food I’ve already tested, Excellency, they’re perfectly safe.”
“If I do that, you’ll sneak off as soon as you’ve finished, and I so wished to invite you to dine.”
Henchman bowed their head, avoiding Supervillain’s sharp eyes and carefully scooping up a spoonful of sweet potato pie. “I always dine with you; I’m your poison taster after all.”
Supervillain raised their eyebrow and grinned. “Clever. Very clever. But I was thinking something…closer, with your own plate and glass. What do you say to that?”
“I would assume,” Henchman said carefully, “that I’m being accused of poisoning your food.”
Supervillain’s eyebrow arched higher. “How so?”
“I try my best to be above suspicion, but it’s natural for someone like Your Excellency to mistrust. Maybe you believe I’m only tasting the foods I know are safe?” They didn’t look up, didn’t let their spoon shake. “Please, order me to eat anything you like.”
Supervillain followed up on their threat of their own plate and glass, both worth more than the Henchman’s annual salary. Next came choice cuts of meat, steaming buns, honeyed vegetables, a glass of deep red wine, and on and on and on. Henchmen tried not to notice how often they received the best part of every dish, and failed.
This was even worse than they’d thought. To be accused of doing a job badly was halfway to a death sentence. To be accused of betraying Supervillain, of trying to poison them…god. They couldn’t imagine the punishment in store.
Eventually Supervillain sat back, satisfied. They gestured with their too-sharp knife. “Eat.”
Henchman ate.
It was the best last meal anyone could ask for. The pork melted in their mouth, and the buns were the fluffiest they had ever had. Even the vegetables were good enough to make them crave vegetables, and the wine complimented every morsel. Henchman let their eyes flutter shut in bliss.
“And?” They could hear the smugness in their boss’s voice, the sharp-edged delight. “Your thoughts?”
“You were right,” Henchmen said. “It was in the pork.”
Supervillain’s cutlery clattered; their chair hit the floor. Then all of a sudden there were hands against Henchmen’s shoulders, nails biting crescent moons through their shirt. “What do you mean? Henchmen, what do you-”
Henchmen cracked their eyes open. The room was already blurring, but Supervillain’s bright eyes stayed crystal clear. “Well,” they slurred, “half right. I had nothing to do with it. I would…I would never…”
“Henchman, that wasn’t what I meant. Look at me. Look at me, Henchman, that’s an order, I’m telling you to- stay with me, stay with me, come on, don’t do this to me, this isn’t what I wanted, no, no, no no no- Henchman!”
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@thepenultimateword thanks for the prompt!
oh fuck i love this!! the henchman being so sure it’s an accusation and then just the DELIVERY of “you were right, it was in the pork.” and then the supervillain’s panic!!! i loved it.