Mila threw her fingers into her mouth and nibbled, "You said you won't get mad at me!" she whined.
Zyran rubbed his forehead and nodded, "Yes. I did say that, but..." he stopped talking when he realized his voice was raised.
"But you do realize you're asking me to go beg them for some food... when I own the restaurant?" He couldn't discern the absurdity of the situation that was beginning to make his head ache.
Mila pressed her lips and looked away, "You asked me what I wanted."
"Yes, I asked that because I wanted to get you something. Anything but that—" Zyran turned and pointed at the people minding their business.
Mila rubbed her palms together and sighed, "I don't want anything but that," her tone had a note of finality in it.
Zyran scoffed, "Oh, you want that? Look, woman, you're going to find something else in the menu... even if it's not there I'll have the chef make it for you, but that... whatever that is... is no," he shook his head.
