I didn't argue. Mostly because arguing with Cheon when she'd already decided something was like trying to convince the ocean to stop being wet. Pointless and exhausting.
The kitchen island held a spread that would have fed a family of four. Eggs. Bacon. Toast. Fresh fruit. Some kind of vegetable situation I didn't recognize but assumed was healthy because Cheon never let me eat anything fun.
"You cooked all this?"
"I ordered most of it. The eggs are mine."
I sat down and started eating. The eggs were perfect because of course they were. Cheon approached everything with the same obsessive attention to detail whether she was planning a tactical operation or scrambling breakfast.
She sat across from me with her own plate and watched me eat in that way she had. Like she was cataloging every bite for future reference.
"How was training?"
"Productive. Noel knows things about my abilities I didn't even know."
"And the part where you kissed her?"
"Also productive."
