Picking up the de-seeded pumpkin innards do not puke Melbourne, do not puke the thought rolled through her mind slowly but surely. It wasn’t something she could help, the texture that texture had always made her skin crawl. The stringy sticky and all together oozy mess had never been something she was the least bit fond of…heck, there was a time she had retched into her pumpkin while carving it as a kid and then somehow managed to set her hair on fire that same day.

Those scents together, those were horrid.

It was like someone had created a repellent for all things, all things.

Carefully she put the innards into her pumpkin and proceeded to clean her hands on one of her towels…damn there was innard still on it. Flicking her hand she managed to lop the tiny speck of innard across the room…the little fleck of orange fiber was almost impossible to see but when it appeared on someone’s robes…well, that was when she noticed it.

Nope. She was just going to don her innocent as pie face and pretend she didn’t just do that.