"You're not wrong there," she agreed. The widows had a standard of perfection they were expected to maintain. That, and she was pretty sure the luxury of a good meal on a mission was part of the bait Dreykov kept on his lure. As they made their way down along the refrigerated cases, she idly dropped a few different cheeses into the basket as she listened to him talk.

"Oh yeah? Were you growing them on the porch, or were they wild somewhere?" They'd come up to the fruit by that point, and her eyes skimmed the cartons before she let go of his hand and popped the lid on one. She extracted a raspberry and held it up for him to try with a grin. "Go on."