“Have you eaten?”
“No, I’m starving. Apart from the tea at the café, I haven’t had a thing since I left Whiteport.”
Fuck. Tom wasn’t sure the chicken was enough for both of them, and he wasn’t in the mood to cook anything. “Okay, let’s see what we’ve got, then.”
“Can’t we just have some Chinese takeaway, or something? A pizza maybe?”
“If you haven’t noticed, we’re in Nortown. That means no pizzas and no takeaway.”
“Shit, man. How do you even live?”
Tom tried to ignore his spiking irritation. “We cook.”
Jason snorted. “Could you show me the bathroom, I need to clean up a little. I cut myself in the woods.” He held up a bloody hand, and Tom silently cursed himself for not noticing. As Jason looked at his palm, his cerulean eyes clouded and some of the colour drained from his face.