#Chapter11
My own nuggets looked fantastic. There was six of them, residing beside a lake of fries, but they were far too hot to eat right away. After the first bite, I had yelped, dropping the thing back to the plate and fanning my mouth, whimpering as the ouchie burnt on despite having dropped the culprit of the pain back to the plate.
I had expected Blake to laugh at me; I hadn't been expecting Blake to slide my plate towards him, pushing his own aside, and work on the nuggets with his knife and fork. He cut them up into small chunks, ignoring the way my jaw had dropped, before sliding it back over to me.
/"They will cool quicker like this,/" was all he said, giving a nonchalant shrug as he slid his own food back in place.
Even Isaac wouldn't have done that for me.
