"It did, he killed me as I wanted him to." And now there's an edge of reproach creeping in, though it's not aimed at Shaw. Things went exactly the way he'd wanted them to, and right through giving into the numbing pull of death, it had seemed like the right choice, the only choice.

Egg. Baking powder. Guessing on amounts, but that was par the course for most of his recipes. "Like I said. At the time, it seemed sensible. I didn't say it seems sensible now."

Lesson learned: do it himself, coward. It's a value judgment he'd keep making, too. "...My file didn't go into what was happening to us enough if you're asking that question." Cheese. How much cheese is too much? "You have a pretty strong stomach, right? I can clarify."