The muggle child deep within Quin nearly died at the mention of being a dragonkeeper. What a wild world he lived in where that was an occupation one could have! Even as close to forty as he was, Quin was still often flabbergasted by magic and what it could do. The handshake was firm, but brief, and Quin found himself too distracted by the entirety of the situation to think much on that.

"Smoked right, by the dragons then?" He was mostly joking, but as he thought about it, Quin had to stuff the sample in his mouth to take the place of his foot. He liked the heady flavor of that one, it had a good aftertaste and would make a tasty appetizer of some kind. Perhaps he should buy a little of everything and have Dahlia along for a picnic or something. Would be fun. He tucked the idea in his back pocket. "How do they melt?" If the cheese was too hard it could make baking difficult, the cheese didn't melt but the pastry burned. It was a fine line.