Peter’s body rejects honey, chocolate and all other sweet substances. Thus, it was hardly a surprise that he should reject Maire.
Her hair was a light blond almost as white as processed sugar, and her voice was like candy floss sticking to anything which came too close. All men she had met until then had let themselves be caught and drawn into the pink depths, to drown in a scent of artificial strawberries, but it made Peter gag. After he had vomited up all her pleasantries and compliments at her feet, he pushed her away and let the repulsion fuel his speed as he fled.
A Bolg? 