"A little, maybe?" She shook her head and then furrowed her brow, embarrassed.
"Like what?" His response came quickly and inquisitively.
This... reminded her of the past somehow, and she stumbled.
"Well. It's... like..." She paused for a moment, looking around, before answering. "It's... another kind of spinach!" she exclaimed.
The vivid memory of the fragrant, imaginary smell of the broth was so strong and pervasive that it made her nauseous, let alone the taste!
"Arrrgh!" It all made her sick.
"I see!"
"Then... what about you?" she whispered. "What do you hate?" she stated, determined.
"What?"
In the midst of this eye contact, she returned his precise and unexpectedly curious gaze, making his mind go blank.
"Okay. “It’s nothing special,” he shrugged, thoughtfully stroking the side of his head, looking more relaxed.
“I’m not really picky!” His sharp gaze towards her was the opposite of his tone.