The pizzeria escapade had been such a rousing success that the apartment was alive with newfound confidence. The scent of melted cheese still lingered in the air, and Altair was busy sketching plans for a pizza-themed security system using Mallory's oven (much to her annoyance).
Meanwhile, Mallory lounged on the couch, idly flipping through a scavenged magazine. Her stomach growled faintly, already craving something new.
"You know what we need next?" Mallory said, tossing the magazine aside.
"Please don't say it," Vanessa groaned from her spot at the table, reorganizing the first aid kit.
"Pasta," Mallory said with a dreamy sigh. "Fettuccine Alfredo, spaghetti Bolognese, lasagna—ooh, lasagna sounds nice."
Zara, perched on the arm of the couch, let out a bark of laughter. "Let me guess—you want us to raid an Italian restaurant this time?"
Mallory grinned. "Exactly! You're catching on, Zara."
