I hit her with a look. “Funny.”
“What are you getting then, Mr. Traditional?”
“Something normal.”
“Aw, don’t disappoint me now. You’re a bad boy. I’m sure you’d get something crazy.”
“Pepperoni, extra basil, and garlic knots.”
“You don’t seem like a basil guy.”
“What does that even mean?”
“You just don’t strike me as someone who willingly eats vegetables.”
I lean back, watching her with a grin. “You’re profiling me over pizza toppings now?”
“Just calling it like I see it, Volkov.”
“Then let me fix your perception.” I lean closer and drop my voice. “I eat what keeps me alive.”
Her thumb stills mid-scroll. “People’s souls?”
“Try again.”
“Fear?”
“Nope.”
“Money?”
“I don’t eat cash.”
“Then I give up.” She glances over at me. “What?”
“Hard pass.”
She frowns. “What?”
“It’s inappropriate.”
“What keeps you alive?”
“As of late, yes.”
Her expression scrunches up in confusion. “Blood?” I just stare at her. “Well?”
“You.”
Her cheeks flush pink. “You think I fall into a category of food now?”
“I know you do.”
She swallows hard, pretending not to be affected.
“Does that make you uncomfortable?”
She scoffs. “No. I’m used to your brash commentary. You like to rattle me.”
