Not life, but good life, it to be chiefly valued. - Socrates
"How long have you been there?" I set the butter and juice on the island across from where he's sitting.
"Long enough to know you have an exceedingly pleasing singing voice. Plus, I can honestly say I like your clothing choice. I have enjoyed watching you dance around in it."
"You should have said something."
"If I had, you would have stopped." He follows my movement with dark and smoldering eyes. "What are you baking?"
"Biscuits." I shuffle over to the oven and grab the rubber mitten hanging just inside the lower cabinet. "Do you like them? I mean, is it food that you'll eat?"
"Yes, I consume them occasionally. But I am not the finicky eater."