"Couhse I made dis," Shae answered with a chuckle, spearing a shrimp with his fork. "Yo' face ain' gone all red yet, so you mus' be a guhl dat can han'le heat." He seemed strangely pleased by this knowledge.
"Oh, fuck, ahlmos' fuhgot. Wan' a beeuh o' somet'ing?" Without waiting for a reply, he plucked the Tupperware off the couch and sauntered back into the kitchen, depositing the container on the counter beside the leftovers to be filled at some later point; after all, what fun would it be to eat alone?
He returned a few moments later bearing the promised longnecks, perfectly chilled and ready to be imbibed, and he plunked them down on the coffee table. "So...Nina," he began in a mildly conversational tone, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it over the back of the couch. Unfortunately for his new dinner guest, that particular action left his (very loaded) shoulder holster clearly on display. He went to work unfastening the closure at his shoulder, completely unaffected by the whole scenario.
"...Disneylan'? Realleh?" The note of skepticism in his voice was clear. "Don' strahk me as da Mickeh Mouse type."