There was no one better in Juno's mind to teach Marco how to make a proper omelette. If he was going to learn from anyone, she was happy it was Jack, since by now she was pretty certain she would eat his food with her eyes closed and no need to smell it either. "I'm not ungrateful, it's great that he tried-" she turned to Marco, "-it's great that you tried to make me food, thank you - but I'm happy he's gonna learn, not gonna lie. I mean, in general, not just for my benefit."
Stealing another fry from Marco, suckling on her fingers to 'clean' them afterwards, Juno glanced over at the drinks table as the typical pang of wrongness hit her stomach at the mention of being too sober. It went away quickly, however; you couldn't work at a bar if you couldn't deal with people getting drunk around you after all. Juno had long since accepted she'd always feel that pang and then move on, and that would be that. "No blue milk there," she joked, glancing at Marco. "I might get me like a margarita or something later. Never had one."
Juno beamed at Marco when he glanced at her, sighing despite herself as she played with her own braid. "And then I found mine, and I thought this might be a little weird but then Marco didn't think so, so I went with it. There was the buns one but that looked too hot, and the slave one was out of the fucking question, so thank God for this one."