“No, Lasagne! My only weakness!”
Rael did his utmost to resist Shayde’s variants of charm. It rarely worked, but he persisted. Often as much as she did.
It had, in fact, reached the point where she arrived with temptation in hand. Usually in a tin box, but this time, she arrived with a thermally insulated parcel.
“I know ye dinnae like the ballet, but I have tae go an’ yer me preferred plus one. And ye ken how it gets when I turn up with plus zero.”
He’d seen it once, from a distance. What he could resist on an everyday basis, no carbon-based male could possibly ignore.
Mercy did not sway him, any more. “Cards on the table, Ambassador.”
She put down the container. Unlocked the seal.
No. Lasagna. With all the unsuitable, naturally sourced, original ingredients.
“Ye ken the cheese had tae be irradiated.”
“…aye…” he whispered absently.
Shayde heartlessly closed the box again. “Finish up and then eat. Then ye can fetch yer good coat.”
She knew him far too well. Far, far too well. “You’re helping me finish up. Unpaid.”
“As ye wish.”