“It’s a chicken salad, not a declaration of undying love.” “It might as well be! He fed you, Em. Even after you rejected him. And we both know where food sits in your hierarchy of needs. If you say ‘I’m hungry,’ there’s about twenty minutes before you turn into something that should be chained in a basement when the moon is full.” “Have I told you lately that I hate you?” “Shut up. You love me. Now tell me why you said no.”
