"Lulu?" Luca said curiously. "What are you doing here so late?"
But then his eyes flicked to the chicken leg in his hand, and a wave of suspicion hit him.
He immediately shielded it with both hands like it was treasure and said in a panicked tone.
"Wait—don't tell me you came here for this!"
"Because if you are, I'm warning you right now—I'm not giving it to you! This is my last piece! My final chicken! You can beg, cry, or try to bribe me with compliments—it's mine!"
Lulu blinked, then looked utterly offended.
"Wha—?! As if I'd come here for your stupid chicken, you dummy!"
She snapped, crossing her arms.
"I'm still trying to get used to the smell of chicken, remember? I haven't even reached the point where I can eat it yet. Why would I want your greasy bone?!"
Luca stared at her for a moment, then exhaled in deep relief. "Oh. Okay. Good. Just checking."
