a sonic wave of Breton energy that smelled faintly of garlic. MC Daffodil laughed. "Ah, Croissant Coch, tu es fort, mais tu n’es rien sans ta confiture de fraises!" He pulled out a leek-powered synth harp. His rhymes ricocheted across the galaxy, causing spontaneous tap-dancing in the mystical land of caws, it belongs to me!" declared MC Daffodil, planting a leek-flag in the Cafe de la Lune on the Rue de Croissant Nebula.