Cloud shrugged gently. They hadn’t killed him so far. He also had a pretty good balance between microwave dinners, cafeteria food, and take out. “Got somethin’ else killin’ me anyway.” He clenched and unclenched his fists.
“Planned on it. That or take out.” It wasn’t like he had his meals planned out. Usually he just bought whatever he felt like.
Decim noted the man’s fist with a cool gaze as he evaluated his words. Something else that’s killing him... Surely he didn’t really mean that. “Do tell,” he encouraged, hoping to figure out what he had intended for it to mean.
That was the answer that Decim was, unfortunately, expecting. Frowning slightly, he wiped his hands dry with a cloth and set it back down neatly beside the sink. “I’m afraid that would be unacceptable, then. Would you care for a more appropriate meal instead? I will cook for you.”
