“Seriously? I paid up my favor to your Prez; I don’t need to feed you.”
“And we saved your ass last night.”
“You did not, I was fine.”
“The least you can do is cook me dinner.”
“Keep dreaming, cupcake. I’m not a domesticated chick.”
“The Pit sells food, right?”
She gazes up at me curiously. “Yeah...why? I’m not paying for my employees to come in and cook for you.”
“Is the kitchen unlocked?”
She nods, biting the inside of her cheek.
“You gonna be here when I’m done?”
“Oh, no, biker boy, I’m coming with you. I’m not going to let you destroy The Pit kitchen.”
With a snort, I leave her behind, heading for the main level where I’m sure the kitchen’s located. She may not be domesticated, but I like to eat, and I actually do know how to cook. So what if I pretty much only know how to make pancakes and steak? It has to count for something. Not that I give two fucks what anyone thinks. Even though I’ve never cooked for a chick before, she doesn’t need to know that small detail.