Chapter Eleven

Fifty-seven minutes later

“Is this truth you speak?”

“Yeah. They are open twenty-four hours. The sign says so,” Heliodore grumbled over a mouth full of delicious, salty goodness.

“Anytime? I can get these rations, these French fries,” she said it better now, with more confidence now that she’d had practice.

“Yep,” he nodded.

“As much as I want?”

“They can always make more,” he sounded reasonable, but still she persisted.

“Anytime I desire?”

“They are open twenty-four hours,” he said, pointing to the sign.

Daeja stepped over to the sign that did, in fact, prominently display the glorious words “open 24 hours a day.” She could have wept with joy. Jennifer Dylluan had cleverly withheld this information.

Daeja growled just thinking the female’s name. Heliodore almost choked at the sound, grabbing her elbow, and hurrying her out the door.

“You can’t do that in public,” he whispered, his breath tickling her ear.

“Do what?”