Ari called back from where she was sprawled across her bed, perusing a scroll containing that damnable song she had gotten wrong in the sewers, "Some nice air, with a side of carryout." Rolling up the scroll, she put it on her bedside table and rose to greet her guest. She usually dressed simply at home, and today was no exception - loose pants in a shade of deep blue and an oversized white blouse which... someone or other, she couldn't remember exactly who, had left behind. Her feet bare, she padded across the flat, then crossed her arms as she regarded Wil. "You know, it's not nearly dinnertime yet," she told him. Still, she had left the door unlocked for the express purpose of his visit, knowing that he had a fluid relationship with time and being afraid of having her door knocked off its hinges - or her lock shot to pieces - if he found it locked.
It wouldn't be the first time.
With a roll of her eyes, she asked him, "I suppose you're hungry now?" He could consume a strictly incredible quantity of food; she never knew whether to be envious or horrified. "I'll call down for whatever they're serving downstairs; the senior patrons should be trickling in now, demanding their dinner, poor old sods." She grinned, knowing that he'd realize she was only teasing. "Two portions or three?"