"It's probably a generational thing," Noah replied with a small shrug. "Rabbit was fairly common fodder when I young, but intensive farming had only just kicked into gear. Now chicken has taken that spot in the food chain," which was probably cheaper to raise and more palatable aesthetically to youngsters. "I didn't hunt myself, but friends of the family did and would occasionally bring us their excesses, which my mother would cook into delights most restaurants would only dream of," he told Phasma with a nostalgic smile. "I'll see what I can knock up for dinner tomorrow, if your free?" he suggested, always happy to introduce new taste combinations to his partner.
There was something a little different about Phasma today, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what. Noah took the tea and sipped contentedly, but there seemed to be something new in the air between them. A tension that he wasn't quite used to feeling and it made him a little nervous.
When Phasma took his hand he smiled and laced his fingers through hers, gently offering her the reassurance she seemed to require, though why Noah didn't understand. "We are?" he asked with a frown, wondering if perhaps she had figured out a way to predict the hotel's strange intentions. "What's going on, Phasma?" he asked softly, meeting her eyes. "There's nothing you can't tell me, you know that," Noah said setting his tea on the bedside table and covering her hand with his spare. "Is something wrong?"