"They are better with these brined vegetables," answered Achilles, touching his little paper cup full of pickles. And they were better than the cafeterias attempts at pizza. Achilles had only had it once, on the shore with the holy man, but where that had been transformative, here pizza was only sad, gray rectangles.

"What's this afternoon?" he asked around a huge bite, mustard squirting out at the corners of his mouth. It wasn't princely, but no one seemed to mind here. Achilles pulled a sudden face. "Is it biology?"