The moment the sleek, black car door clicked shut, Everly's performance anxiety evaporated like a puddle in the Sahara.
The sterile scent of the hospital was replaced by the rich leather of the interior, and with it, her stomach remembered its primary, most noble purpose: food. She was already salivating, a primal, Pavlovian response to freedom, her mind a frantic Rolodex of culinary possibilities.
"What do you want to eat?" Cassian's voice cut through her gluttonous daydreams. He was already tapping on his tablet, the screen's glow illuminating his sharp, unreadable profile. "Didn't you say you were craving something?"
The word 'craving' hit her like a bucket of ice water. Her excitement screeched to a halt, the mental image of a juicy burger replaced by the memory of five blurry, potato-like blobs and Cassian's suspicious frown flashed in her mind.
