Azrael had adjusted to the fact that he'd had to cook his own dinner for a while now. He'd done it before she arrived, and he'd do it again after she was gone. Still, he wondered if he'd done something wrong. Had he offended her somehow? His mind flashed back to the conversation they'd had in Moscow, as it did on many evenings.
He pulled a bag of candies from his jacket, and set them on the table in front of her. "I picked these up for you on the way home," he told her. "There's a Russian couple that runs a store that I pass on my way home from work, I thought you might like them."