Raven smiled. “You don’t say?” Aidan definitely didn’t need to let anyone know he was cut from a rebellious cloth; he carried that around, radiated it with that intense stare. He was move or be moved personified.
“True,” she agreed, extending her hand across to him, the last bit of chocolate held out between two of her gloved-fingers for him. “So I’ll gladly take an IOU for the rest. Enjoy, Skurge of the Vending Machines.”
She shrugged and wiped at some of the melted chocolate on the smooth fabric of her gloves. “Not a lot,” she replied. “I’m generally skilled at making people see my side of an argument when I need to. And before I came here…,” she shrugged, still smirking. “I was very good at making people see what I wanted them to see.”