Jenks enthusiastically leaned against the counter and opened the box. Bypassing the plastic knife, he broke off about a third of it and took a huge bite. Ivy watched, appalled, and I shrugged. His mouth moving as he hummed, Jenks finished unpacking the sacks. I was half dead, Ivy was whoring herself to keep me safe, but Jenks was okay as long as he had chocolate.
Boots and leather jackets were strewn on her bed, and what looked like a new knife set. She’d taken a class last winter and was dying to try them out legally on someone.
Rachel, we've been over this. This is what I do," he said, crumbs of whiten cheese falling from the knife. "Find a way for your lofty, unrealistic ideals to deal with it.