Jayati didn't think of cooking as a hidden talent, just an unexpected one. Maybe if people weren't so quick to judge then it wouldn't be that either. Not that she could blame them though, not really. Her head tipped with a small, satisfied smile, "It's a deal. I hope you're fine with dusty manuscripts as old as you."
It wasn't very often that she admitted that out loud. The fact that Lalita's death was something she carried the guilt for. It was something most disagree with and one of those that could tip her mood drastically from one end to the other far too fast. She found herself oddly relieved he didn't press it. She gave another half-shrug, "Every once in a while. But we are what we are, predators, even if we are in society among others now."