"Sure." Cormac shrugged. "I'd have preferred her to Flint, honestly."
He managed to get a few more bites of peas into Zhen-Mei's mouth before switching to whatever fruit this was-- oh, bananas, good. At least if she spit it in his face (which had happened many times before, because she'd done it on accident once and then decided it was hilarious) it wouldn't taste bad.
Casey nodded slowly. "I don't like it, but Dad's always been pretty adamant about that being one of the things we snooty-faluty folks need to know. I'm sure I'll take the time to learn it at some point."
Cormac was stuck on the turpentine comment. "Are you implying I have bad taste in alcohol?"