Grab N' Go [Robin Arellano]

21: Damn, You Really Can Cook pt. 2

"Damn, you really can cook," Robin compliments through a mouth full of food as he munches down on the dinner. "Have I said that before? This feels like deja vu?"

"Yeah, you've said that. Thank you," she chuckles, watching him eat with her legs crossed and leaned back in her chair.

Her hands are placed on the table, and she rubs her thumb over her knuckles, trying to soothe the throbbing pain they're emitting. Had it not been for the soreness she feels in her right shoulder and fist, she may have forgotten completely about her previous fight with Lillian. That pain on top of the random slices from the glass she broke were beginning to set in.

Robin seems to notice her distraction, looking at her with curiosity. His eyes shift from her distracted expression to her fist, and he immediately notices the beginning of a bruise.

"The hell is that?" He raises a brow, placing his fork down. "Is that from when you broke the glass?"

"Uh....yeah," she lies, nodding her head and moving her hands off the table. "Want some more food?"

He looks to his plate, then back to her, using his tongue to clear any food stuck in his teeth.

"You're lying," he calmly says, leaning back in his chair. "I'll eat more if you're gonna tell me the truth."

Her eyebrows raise in surprise and she lets out a small scoff. Shaking her head, she replies, "what makes you so sure?"

"You always try to change the conversation when you're lying," he points out confidently, a smug smile on his face. "You've done that since I first met you. So, what are those from?"

"Well, it wasn't a full lie," she corrects, leaning over to grab his plate before walking to the kitchen. "It was the glass, partly. Also, I may have...sorta, got into a fight."

He watches her serve him with disbelief, "a fight? You got into a fight?"

"Yeah, I know, crazy," she laughs, moving back to the table and setting down the plate. "The worst part is she didn't even throw the first punch. I don't know what came over me, really. She mentioned you. And Vance. I couldn't take it."

"Who?" He asks, picking up his fork once again. "Man, this sucks! I wanna see you whoop some ass! Wait, did you whoop ass? Or...did you get yours handed to you?"

Rolling her eyes, she pours him more tea, "I whooped her ass. It was Lillian. That guerra really don't know when to shut the hell up. I guess it works out though. That's why I was running, and it's why I found you."

He nods, eating some more food.

"You know, this is the first real meal I've had in like over a day," he tells her with an appreciative smile. "That weird ass puto had me eating scrabbled eggs and sprite. The fuck kinda shit is that?"

"I'm sorry," she repeats.

He shakes his head, "don't be. You don't got shit to be sorry about. You're the one who rescued me. I don't just mean from the grabber neither. From my mom too. She would rather I come up dead before admitting I was kidnapped."

"That's...not true," she tries to defend, for his sake.

"Don't defend her. It is," he insists, clearly growing frustrated by the conversation. "The only people who would really care are you and Finney. Maybe my uncle, but he's been busy lately."

"Well, you're right about me caring. I cared a lot when you were gone, and I would never give up looking for you. Just like I never gave up on Vance," she mutters back, a frown beginning to form. "Did you....when you were down there, was there anything that might've said he was there?"