Patient A-3

Chapter 37: In My Head

 I scarf down my meal like a starving woman. Turns out, dressing up was a good idea. They whisked me away to the fanciest restaurant in town, and let me tell you, it is very much worth the price. Every bite is like a symphony to my tastebuds.

 Cierien watches with amusement as I eat my meal, occasionally interjecting to make small talk. However, the food is so good that I struggle to pay attention. "Damn, that good?" he chuckles, realizing he has once again lost my attention.

 In response, I impale a piece of steak on my fork and thrust it in his direction. "It'd be even better if they had apple juice, but yes, spectacular. Now, try it," I say through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

 He snickers, his words a playful mumble as he pokes at the absurdity of my apple juice fixation. Then, he leans into me, using his fang to gracefully snatch the morsel of steak from my fork, letting out a theatrical moan once the flavor hits his tastebuds. "Never knew human food could be this good," he admits.

 Their minimalist order sharply contrasts with my overflowing plate. They were only interested in the main course being cooked meat, opting to let me take their sides. My plate, heaped with various foods, now teeters on the edge thanks to their restrained selections. "This is miles better than what we make at home," I declare with a satisfied smile.

 Cierien's eyes narrow in a jestful manner and he quips, "Two of us are out of practice, you know, with being locked up and all. What's your excuse, birdy?"

 Setting down my fork, I sink into the cushioned seating, raising my hands in mock surrender. "No excuse here. If it weren't for you, I'd be surviving on a steady diet of eggs and ramen every day," I confess with a laugh.

 A question tugs at my thoughts, and without much consideration, I let it spill from my lips. "Do you think there are more facilities that are still operating?"

 "Why would you ask that?" Wrath questions, the sudden shift in topic startling him.

 We were just talking about them being locked up, though briefly, and as a joke. I can't help where my brain went because of it— she does her own thing. "Well, Cierien mentioned the WWA Research Clinic being run by three families, including the Wellingtons and Adairs," I recall from our previous conversation about Cierien's past. Wrath doesn't respond, appearing ready to brush off my question. Not one to be deterred, I add, "I'm just curious."

 "So were your parents," he responds dryly.

 I'm not sure if Wrath is trying to draw a connection between my curiosity about the possibility of clinics still being open and my parents' morbid fascination with torture and dissection, but I'm not having it. "What does that mean?" I shoot back, irritated by his short remark.

 "Nothing, finish your steak," he dismisses with a roll of his eyes, settling back into the booth seat before me.

 Realizing it's not the ideal dinner conversation for our first date, I decide to drop it. The awareness dawns on me that I was perhaps too hasty and comfortable broaching the subject. I remind myself that if there were genuine concerns or worries about such matters, they both would have likely shared them with me by now.

 Cierien clears his throat, uncomfortable with the shift in atmosphere. He eyes the way I absentmindedly toy with the food on my plate and decides it's time to settle the bill. As he flags down the waitress, I instinctively reach for my card, prepared to take care of the expenses. However, Wrath shoots me a stern look, shaking his head and motioning for me to put my card away.

 He shifts onto one side, smoothly extracting a black leather wallet from his back pocket. He deftly retrieves a card from one of the sleeves and slides it into the cardholder. As the waitress whisks it away, I can't help but inject a touch of drama into the moment. "You're paying? I didn't know you even had a card," I exclaim, dropping my mouth open in disbelief.