Callista eyed the half-eaten plate of fire flank steak with a side of
extra ghost peppers. “I think I may avoid your workshop this
afternoon.”
“Why's that?” Seneca asked, cocking a
brow.
“You're eating ghost peppers.”
“I know.”
Seneca replied, confused by what seemed a non sequitur “I love
'em.”
The older charr answered her own unspoken question
when she let out some silent, but odorous flatulence. “Oh.” She
turned a disgruntled face and dug back into her meal unrepentantly. “Give me a break. I'm an old gal.” Her eyes flicked up to
Callista's quiet, knowing look. “Oh, shut up!”
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