"And to that I would argue with you that it's half the fun," Ingrid beamed back with a mischievous glint in her eyes as she was handed her own taco. She had watched Colm size the food up, never having seen a man so afraid of something in a long while. "I didn't realize you were so fussy about getting dirty– it's actually kind of endearing," she teased softly, already having to suck some sauce off of her thumb as holding the taco alone was causing spillage. It was a fickle thing and the longer she delayed eating it, the worse it was going to be to tackle afterwards. She didn't seem too bothered by it. "I've got plenty of napkins and there's always magic. Besides, maybe it could do you good to get a little messy," Ingrid added playfully. "Come here, we can eat over the bins," she suggested with amusement.
“Is it though? Is it really?” he countered, because honestly, he couldn’t imagine much worse than food collapsing in his hands and ending up everywhere. “It’s not that I mind a bit of mess, but food being messy? That’s a different beast entirely. Some things I can handle, sure, but this…” He gestured at the offending taco with an expression of betrayal. “This looks like a culinary bomb went off in the kitchen after they assembled it. Who likes a soggy taco, honestly?”
The suggestion of eating over a bin made his face crumple even further, nearly as bad as when the food first landed in front of him. “Oh, absolutely not. I refuse to hover around a bin like some desperate fly. We'll eat at a table. Like civilized people.” He shook his head, already plotting. “Next time, you’re coming to mine, and I’ll make you proper tacos. The kind that hold together, the kind worth eating. And after that, you’ll never settle for soggy again."
