"I have never met a man as disgusting as that bastard," I muttered, stabbing my food a little harder than necessary.
The fork clinked against the porcelain with more force than I'd intended, and a piece of grilled vegetables flew off the plate entirely, landing somewhere near the breadbasket. I didn't bother retrieving it. My appetite had already been curdled by the memory of that encounter. I stabbed at another piece of food, the repetitive motion oddly therapeutic.
The second the words left my mouth, the table erupted.
Soren nearly choked on his drink. A spray of amber liquid spluttered from his lips as he coughed violently, one hand flying up to cover his mouth while the other slapped the table for balance. Phoenix started laughing so hard he had to cover his mouth—his shoulders heaving, his eyes watering, the sound muffled behind his palm.
