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Mark Cohen is addicted to unhealthy relationships (mydocumentary) wrote in wariscoming,

"We'll save that for next time," he reassured with a grin and a wrinkle of his nose. Which implied there would be a next time. Was he already at the point where he'd want to consider doing this again? Well. Yeah. Maybe.

Did he trust her. That was a loaded question. For food? Sure. He wasn't a picky eater anyway. When you lived on scraps and bits and pieces and free meals when your wealthier friends offered to pay, you learned to eat most anything. Did he trust her otherwise? That really remained to be seen. She was nice enough and she hadn't killed him before getting there, so that was a bonus. Did it mean he was willing to offer up his life story? Hardly.

But he wasn't an idiot. He knew she meant about the food. And Mark just smiled and shrugged. "You're not going to order me anything with anchovies, are you? Lox is pretty much my limit when it comes to fishy foods." Honestly, he'd try anything once. Especially when she was giving him that Devil-may-care look and attitude. What the hell, caution to the wind and all. "Yeah. Yeah, I trust you. Whatever she says," he told the waitress, who just lifted her eyebrows at him.