Cedric blinked at that, as if snapping out of a trance, and quickly averted his gaze. "Sorry," he mutters, eyes now on his food as he blindly reaches for his cutlery and awkwardly starts poking at his food.
Marisol let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding and tried to go back to her food. But awkwardness lingers between them now, filling the air with palpable tension.
Marisol tried to ignore it, but it became so suffocating that she breathed out a heavy sigh, glancing up to find Cedric still poking at his food, his brows furrowed as if deep in thought. "Is something wrong with your food?" she finally gets out, unable to bear the stiff silence for a second longer.
Cedric's eyes snapped up at that, his expression caught somewhere between surprise and irritation. "No, it's fine," he replied curtly, before pushing his plate away with a sigh, looking towards the door and back at the table as if contemplating.