[Bowl 2, then. Sugar-. He'll cook the rest for himself after everyone's asleep.

He pulls it over to him, notes the volume of dough-- punches it down per the book's instruction, with a little less gusto this time-- and flips the towel back over it.]

This goes to boil in ten. If you ain't been too badly defeated by cooking, stick around.

[He leans back against a counter, eating one of the first batch of bagels, the ridge of muscle along his jaw working as he munches through it with contentment.]

Drink-?