"Hey, you asked," she replied dryly. Nevertheless, Goth dropped the theme. Prattling about Abaddon went hand in hand with thinking about what happened after that, and she was all too uncomfortable and pissed off to want to even think about it. That merry, happy-go-lucky exterior was no more than that, a mask.
The goddess tossed back the rest of her drink, set the glass on the counter and impudently hopped onto it, sitting on the edge with feet dangling a few inches from the floor. Merely watching Punk cook was making her hungry, even though she had been quite nauseated the last two days. He had always been a damn good cook; that, she remembered fondly.
That look very nearly made Goth wince. Punk had always known her too well, it seemed. Steeling herself, she stared at him just with a green-eyed gaze. "How have you been?"