Baird sat down at the counter; his blue tank top clung tightly to his rugged torso and revealed the thick, broad musculature of his arms and shoulders.
"I'm easy with food. As long as it tastes good I'll eat it. I'm fine with a bag of Doritos to a hot dog to that truffled cheese in the fridge... or maybe the beef stroganoff... I cooked it last night, fuckin' huge amount too, duh. Too large to finish... there's still some left."
Good meal too. So much meat and cream and fuck it felt so warm inside.
"If that doesn't work, I could always make you one of my fried chocolate sandwiches." His smirk grew into a dangerous leer at that suggestion.