“So, Miss Catherine, what’ll you have?
It’s my treat!” At the counter, York puffed out his chest, putting on a grand show of generosity.
Catherine rolled her eyes.
The money he was spending was literally hers.
How did he even have the nerve to say that?
Still, after the chaos of the morning, she was getting hungry.
She looked up at the menu boards.
‘Ugh.
Bugs.
Everywhere.’ She hated bugs.
Eating anything made from them made her physically queasy.
After scanning for a while, she finally spotted something bug-free.
“I’ll have the patty burger set meal.” In Zootopia, all patties were made from synthetic meat, so nobody felt guilty about eating them.
York shot her a puzzled look.
“You sure you don’t wanna try the bug platter?
It’s the house specialty!” “No.” Her answer was flat.
Without another word, she turned and went to find a seat.
York shrugged and turned back to the cashier.
“I’ll have the bug platter.” He paid.
His hundred Zootopia bucks instantly shriveled to sixty.
Thank goodness it was Crazy Thursday, otherwise, this one meal would’ve bankrupted him.
Wincing inwardly, he plopped down across from Catherine.
She frowned.
“Who said you could sit here?” York blinked, scratching his head in confusion.
“Then…
where do I sit?” “Nobody eats with me.” Catherine lifted her chin haughtily and pointed at the floor.
“You eat on the ground.” “???” Even a Buddha has a temper, let alone a starving York.
In a flash of defiance, he got up and marched to a table as far away from her as possible.
Can’t win?
Then hide.
Back when he used to piss off his parents, he’d always keep his distance until they cooled down.
It was a survival strategy!
Catherine’s face went stiff.
She’d expected him to argue back, or, if he were truly spineless, to grovel and get on the floor.
She hadn’t expected him to take his spineless anger somewhere else.
And walking that far away?
That was practically a middle finger to her authority.
She hated losing control.
Suppressing her rage, she tapped the table.
“Come.
Here.” York turned his head away and pretended not to hear.
“…” Two seconds passed.
York snuck a nervous peek at her, and froze in terror.
She was loading her pistol.
Panic hit.
He dropped into a knee-slide so smooth it looked rehearsed, gliding across the floor until he stopped at her feet.
“I was wrong!
Please, have mercy!
Spare this lowly one!” Catherine was genuinely taken aback by the sheer silkiness of his apology slide.
Her anger ebbed just a little.
She holstered the gun and spoke with dripping sarcasm: “Oh, and what could you possibly have done wrong?
I’m just your prisoner, how dare I talk back to my kidnapper?” “Oh.
Okay, then.” His face flipped in an instant.
He dusted off his knees and sat back down across from her.
“Way better to eat together, don’t you think?
Splitting up in a fast-food joint just feels…
awkward.” Catherine watched his mood swing like a weather vane and felt her eyelid twitch.
She bit back the “piss off” forming on her tongue.
‘Whatever.
Getting worked up over this shameless idiot would only lower my standards.’ She said nothing.
—— There was still a bit of a wait for the food, so York filled the silence.
“Miss Catherine, have you ever had a burger before?” Catherine shook her head.
“I never touch junk food.
My meals are custom-planned by a private chef every day.” “Is the chef any good?” York leaned in, curious.
“Oh, absolutely.” Catherine smiled, a knowing smile.
“The ones who weren’t any good?
I fed them to the crocodiles.” “You…
mean you fed the food to the crocodiles, right?” “Who knows?” She shrugged, leaving it ambiguous.
York let out a dry chuckle, not sure how to respond.
Luckily, their order was up.
He hustled to the counter, carefully set Catherine’s burger meal in front of her, and even thoughtfully poked the straw into her cola.
Then he grabbed his own tray, piled high with every kind of bug imaginable, and sat back down.
Starving, he tore in like a man possessed.
Catherine watched him inhale his food with the table manners of a feral animal and wrinkled her nose in disgust.
She leaned back, trying to put as much distance between them as possible.
‘So uncivilized.’ She eyed her burger, turned it this way and that, and finally took a tentative bite.
It wasn’t bad, exactly, but it didn’t hold a candle to her chef’s cooking.
And so unhealthy.
Still, watching York devour his food with such relish, she felt her own appetite stir.
Before she knew it, she’d finished half the burger.
Then her gaze drifted to the cola.
She took a sip.
‘Wh… wh-what IS this?!’ Bubbles exploded across her tongue, a strange, sweet fizz with a pleasant tingle that slid down her throat.
For one dizzying moment, she felt like she was floating in a sea of carbonation, swimming free.
York noticed her expression and mumbled through a full mouth: “…You’ve never had cola before?” Catherine caught herself.
She’d been too obvious.
She cleared her throat and composed herself.
“Ahem.
No, I haven’t.
It’s…
not bad.” “Hey, wanna try some of this?
Grilled grasshopper, it’s awesome!” He fished out the plumpest specimen from his tray and plopped it onto her plate.
“I DON’T WANT IT!” She jerked back like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, her voice sharp with pure revulsion.
“Get this disgusting thing off my plate!
Now!
Immediately!” She even shoved the tray away with her paw, as if the bug might contaminate her.
“Uh…
fine.” York hadn’t expected such a violent reaction.
She hated bugs way more than he’d thought.
Disappointed that he couldn’t share his favorite snack, he flicked the grasshopper into the air, it landed perfectly in his mouth and chased it with a big gulp of cola.
“Ahhh~.
Now that hits the spot.” Nothing beat a burger when you were starving.
Catherine shot him a venomous glare, then quietly went back to sipping her cola.
Just then, several black sedans pulled up outside.
Catherine sighed.
“Well.
Looks like your little escape is over.” York followed her gaze out the window.
When he saw the grim-faced wolves stepping out of the cars, his heart seized.
“Damn it!
How’d they find us so fast?!” He shoved a fistful of grasshoppers into his mouth, stuffed the rest into his pockets, and scanned the table to make sure nothing was left behind.
Then he grabbed Catherine’s wrist and hauled her toward the kitchen.
“Run!
We’re bouncing!”