"Yes, fish soup," Phoebe Faulkner said, sitting down and enthusiastically explaining, "I bought this crucian carp yesterday and kept it alive in the water. I just prepared and stewed it, so it's packed with nutrients."
"Feed me."
"What?" Phoebe Faulkner froze for a second.
"Feed me." Jace Lennox slid the bowl of fish soup in front of Phoebe Faulkner. He stared at her, still frozen in place, and stated flatly, "It's part of your duties."
"Heh, heh." Phoebe Faulkner couldn't help but laugh out loud. 'Don't you have hands or something?'
But one look at Jace Lennox's imperious, lordly expression, and Phoebe Faulkner didn't dare push back. 'Fine. I'll just pretend he's some revered ancestor who's lost all motor function and degenerated to the point of needing to be spoon-fed!'
"Mr. Lennox, have some soup."
Phoebe Faulkner obediently picked up the bowl, scooped a spoonful, and raised it toward Jace Lennox with a smile.
