"So, for some of our viewers at home, they're wondering." Joxton said, leaning forward, simultenously holding a microphone towards his subject and clasping his hands. "You've consented, to be eaten, while you're still alive."

Cardge Lidge, who preffered to be reffered to as "Lidge" inspected the microphone carefully, like it would eat him. Or, at least, eat him prematurely.

"Yes." he said, bluntly. "There, uhh, there are sedatives involved." he added, after a fraction of silence.

For the most part, sapience tended to put most people off the idea of eating fellow sapients, something about it vaguely felt like letting the team down, even if said team could have anywhere from zero, to twenty five thousand eyeballs, Joxton Plaid, was a member of this camp, though, he was mostly concerned with getting those eyes on his cast.

Joxton continued his look, he was going to get awards for this, it's amazing, finding a species engaging in cannabalism like this was a rari- Joxton's brain processed the sentence. "Sedatives... this is for, the butchery process?"

Lidge scoffed "Butchery?, what do you think i am, an Animal?" Lidge then had a vaguely smug, yet polite air "It's the Final Meal, you converse with your dining partner."

Joxton had arranged this interview, pretty much immediately after hearing rumours about the meal, and immediately renting a ship and film crew, he hadn't prepared for much complexity. In fact, he hadn't really prepared, at all.

Joxton "You converse? - You, you are being served, as the meal, correct?" Lidge replied, considerately, like a man had just asked him 'The Sky, it is, as the understand it, up?' "Yes, yes i will be."

A moment passed. "Sorry, i think i might have misunderstood you, how, how do you 'converse' in that scenario?"

"There are sedatives involved- Look, Mister Plaid, i appreciate the Money but i am quite busy."

Joxton had been raised at the center of galactic civilisation, he'd spent his early life on the citadel with a well to do military officer for a father, every, pith-spacehelmet wearing ancestor screamed at him "Discipline this savage!"

Joxton supressed this, as, he was a very civilised man, and civilised men do not beat savages, they record them, and profit from them.

Lidge had noticed several more moments passing, while Joxton's extended family tree had a small skirmish in his interlocutors head.

"Look, it's very simple, i'm sedated, a gentleman will purchase the right to consume me, and he will do so to his leisure, we'll have a long, weighty conversation topic, and then, either when he feels he has eaten to satsifaction, euthanastetics will be administered."

Joxton, out of ideas, flailed "Who, who decides what's discussed?"

Lidge, "Well, me, of course-" and Joxton's mind unavoidably focused on the word "Course", "It's my Final meal, in the older days it used to depend, but we fought for the right to decide."

Joxton continued "What will you be discussing?" Lidge replied eagarly, "With you, payment, with my dining partner, Historical anecdotes from the early days of numerological studies and metamyth." "The Chap is quite a writer, enjoyed his works for many years, saw he was interested in a Final Meal, and i took it, it'd be an honour to live on through his work."

Joxton donned a Phantom pith helmet "And his digestion?" he snapped, and immediately regretted.

Lidge calmly pulled up his chair, and walked out the room.

Cardge Lidge, Five star meal. -38.