Chapter 488
He squinted at the dish before Susanna, trying to make sense of it. Finally, he gave up and asked, “Boss, what are you eating? It looks like something out of a Halloween prank!”
Susanna sighed, her patience wearing thin.
Enzo and Silas exchanged glances, thinking the same thing: Barnaby was a real piece of work.
“Seriously, Barnaby would make a perfect comic relief if Finley ever goes on some wild adventure through Muliba Desert,” Enzo muttered as he moved to sit in the corner, wisely distancing himself.
Susanna glanced at her pasta, questioning if Barnaby was out of his mind. Could anyone really be that clueless?
Hull shot Barnaby a stern look. “Why don’t you tell us, what does it look like to you, then?”
Barnaby hesitated, the wheels in his mind turning slowly. “Uh, it looks like something you’d feed to a pet pig, right?”
Susanna buried her head deeper into her plate, wishing she could disappear.
Hull wasn’t about to let Barnaby off the hook. “There’s more in the pot. Help yourself.”
Barnaby cringed at the idea. “I’m not hungry,” he lied, eyes darting from Hull to Susanna, silently cursing her culinary skills.
“Eat,” Hull insisted, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Barnaby swallowed hard and nodded, realizing he couldn’t refuse. As he trudged toward the kitchen, Silas said, “Susanna made it herself. You better appreciate it. No picky eaters here.”
Barnaby’s stomach sank. The message was loud and clear. Like it or not, he had to eat it.
Across the table, Susanna kept her head down, shoveling in mouthfuls of pasta she could barely stomach. She knew she’d be next in line for Hull’s wrath if she didn’t eat.
Meanwhile, Barnaby approached the pot, eyeing the unappetizing heap suspiciously. How could anyone mess up pasta so badly?
He turned and glanced at Susanna, who was soldiering through her plate.
“I’m not sure there’s enough to go around,” Susanna offered, trying one last time to avoid the inevitable. Looking at that mess, Hull wouldn’t touch it, but if Barnaby did, it would definitely give us away. He’d struggle to keep it down without a strong stomach.
Hearing Susanna’s
ment in the kitchen, Barnaby almost lost it. She really knows her stuff. To eat that and still complain it’s not enough….
Maybe she’s never had decent food before? Where did the boss find her, a refugee camp?
Hull raised an eyebrow and pushed his plate toward her. “Want mine?”
Barnaby sighed, ladling a generous helping into his plate, determined to avoid further confrontation. He took a tentative bite. The saltiness hit him like a tidal wave, followed by an indescribable, unpleasant aftertaste.
His face contorted as he fought the urge to gag. “Ugh-” he managed, holding back the retch.
Clearly, culinary talent was not Susanna’s strong suit.
