No Feelings. As if she would ever believe that. Let him rant and rave about everything and everyone, that only proved he did care, no matter how Punk insisted not to.
Her glass rose in reply to that salute, but she didn't drain it at once. Planning to get drunk, yes, but not that fast. She took a long, slow sip, taking enough time to prevent it from burning down its path, savoring each violent drop, while looking at the other culture over the brim of the glass. His dirty look and pointed finger left her unfazed - if anything, that hint of a smile deepened when Goth spoke again.
"Turkey's never going to taste the same anymore, eh?" He had started the comparisons, now would have to suffer through them. If Punk was going to mock her, the least she could do was bite back with a vengeance. "You can't blame me for appreciating exquisite meals."