"I'd imagine they're hungry," she replies airily, trailing into the kitchen after him and leaning on the counter. Not close, not far; more interested (apparently, at least) in the sushi than the company. Chewing a piece thoughtfully, she eyes the frill of greenery on the takeout tray. Plastic, of course-- they're safe for now. "Disappointed, maybe. It might seem like a wasted effort, when your lettuce is suffering so loudly."

It's okay to eat fish, because they don't have any feelings. Well, in any case Cameron has no qualms about it, helping him pick apart the arrangement. She won't comment on dessert if he doesn't, and the bottle isn't too much nicer than what she'd had on hand for the evening. Maybe she'll get dinner next time. If that happens. If this isn't already a disaster. She has no honest idea of what a bad idea it would be, here, to make a habit of him.

"I suppose we were about due for a monster attack, though," she adds wryly, thinking of the shattered mess of her bathroom door-- replaced just in time for Chase's arrival, of course, so perhaps her odd little laugh is lost on him.