Sylvia stared at him for a beat after that, sauce cup in one hand, fry in the other, and then narrowed her eyes in the particular way that meant she was developing bad ideas.
Nero, unfortunately, noticed.
"That expression," he said, "usually precedes poor judgment."
Sylvia ignored that completely. "Does the other person know?"
Nero reached for another wing, more to occupy his hands than out of hunger now. "No."
"No," Sylvia repeated, suspicious. "No because you never said anything, or no because they're spectacularly unobservant?"
His mouth flattened by a fraction.
Sylvia's eyes widened. "Oh, that bad?"
Nero looked at her with the calm dignity of a man being insulted in a civilian apartment while holding hot wings. "Only a blind man wouldn't see."
She blinked.
Then she set her fry down very carefully.
