The reminder cooled her eagerness. She abandoned the mug for the bowl. She was well acquainted with bargain-priced fish, and with varying recipes -- this bouillabaisse was not in any way, shape, or form traditional. Except in its dual heat. Cheap ingredients, likely bargain ingredients, had been used. But whatever Zhavi was, it wasn't someone very picky when it came to food. She slurped it enthusiastically, uncaring of the splatter on counter, chin, or clothes. When she put it down, a full third was gone.
There was a ring of orange-red broth around her mouth. She wiped at it, again, with the back of her hand.
"Can't say I woulda thought him fer that. Figured a man like hisself would go fer practical an' bland."
There was a ring of orange-red broth around her mouth. She wiped at it, again, with the back of her hand.
"Can't say I woulda thought him fer that. Figured a man like hisself would go fer practical an' bland."
