As a being, Phalanx is already generally lacking in empty space; there's no great need to fill up on grains. Being questionably made of dead things probably quells one's appetite as well. In either case, Phalanx ignores the bland and healthy-looking things as if they're actually invisible, and plays with the rest more out of curiosity than the hunger it seems like they really should be feeling by now.

The shiny, sticky, technicolor rounds are an expected hit. Though they're a little intimidating at first, it doesn't take long for Phalanx to catch on after a bit of exploration. Only one round gets stabbed and picked apart into oblivion before the others are sampled in a much more normal manner.

However, the fish is the surprise star of the evening. That sharp taste is a visible shock, and despite (or maybe because of) how the flavor borders on offensive, Phalanx finds them thoughtfully chewing through one piece, and then another.... and another...