I caught Rika’s eyes as she stood near the fireplace, munching on another green tea macaron. She froze, seeing me watch her. I cocked an eyebrow. Another one? You want a cake, too? Maybe two cakes, Rika? She hesitated only a moment and stuffed it into her mouth, followed by another one, before flipping me off and stalking away with her chipmunk cheeks full of unhealthy food for the baby.
