"Oh, I don't know that I knew that the Crumbler was a woman wed," Irene teased lightly, finally giving up on the whole daintiness thing. Fuck it. Meat on a stick was not meant for polite, little nibbles or whatever, was it? "Or that you referred to it as female at all, really. I like that. You could put a cupholder on her a bit easier, I'd imagine. Though straws are much less fun than sticks, admittedly."

Though probably tidier.