[ He can't help the rise in his curiosity at her reaction to the tiny cup of juice: disdain instead of appreciation, criticism instead of compliments. He hadn't tried any of it himself, but it had looked enough like Fonta - and been advertised similarly - that he can't help but wonder if the taste was similar too. In which case—he thinks he'd also dislike it. ]

That bad, huh? Maybe I should consider staying away from it too.

[ But if that's no good....with a hum, he lowers his gaze to his makeshift tray, eyes trailing across the various cups until: ]

What about something salty? This one [ with a nod towards the outermost cup on the left ] seems like it might have...sausages of some kind?

[ He's really trying to sound confident about his choices, but there's no denying the upward lilt of his voice in question and the slight furrow to his brow as he squints at the cup. Outwardly they look like sausages but inwardly who knows what could be inside them? They could be stuffed with sweet cream for all he knows. Just like the oblong slightly sweet bread that had secretly had some sort of processed meat inside (spoilers: a corn dog). ]