thankfully, their reflexes prevent them from making a total fool of themself — they catch it mere seconds before it comes in contact with their cheek, and once they realise just what it is, they roll their eyes. they fix him with a glare that’s more exhausted than annoyed. ❝ seriously? ❞ they ask, completely deadpan. ❝ c’mon, you know we don’t waste food in my apartment. ❞ they glance to the meatball, and it’s like a light - bulb goes off: it’s a bad idea, a terrible one, and they know it before they even do it — that’s not enough to stop them from bringing the meatball to their lips, and then taking a decent - sized bite out of it. it’s a tad freezer burned, and too cold against their teeth, but they force themself to remain unflinching as they chew, maintaining eye contact with him all the while. they swallow, and extend the meatball to him with a quirk of a smile. ❝ you want the rest? ❞