Page 34 of The Girl Who Should Be Dead

It’s far louder, but he grabs a pack of undergarments in a plastic bag and some other small things, and pays, all without either of them needing to say anything, then another store for a few more casual items and a bigger jacket, and Ambra’s head spins.

Gurlien gives her a sidelong glance from behind his glasses, and it’s his planning look, so Ambra squints at him right back.

“What?” she asks, too prickly to be polite, and with him she shouldn’t have to be so careful all the time anyways.

“I’m evaluating,” he replies, just as prickly.

She bares her teeth at him, and he seems not at all fazed by that, as they continue to stroll through the mall, each carrying bags, as if they’re completely normal.

“Your hands are still shaking,” he states, and she clenches her hands into fists to stop them. “And it’s been about fourteen hours since you ate.”

Ambra just narrows her eyes more at him.

“And I’ve been in hiding for the last year and been unable to go to a mall food court,” he continues, and she relaxes a bit at that. “Do you want to make the choice for your food or do you want me to make it for you?”

And he watches her, like it’s some sort of test.

They stroll past a store with a dizzying selection of scents, almost enough to pull her attention away, but she makes herself stare back at him, makes her footsteps even.

“How many choices are there?” she asks, finally.

It’s not like food sources for demons are terribly common, and it’s not like they are offered very much variety.

“A lot,” he emphasized.

“Go ahead and make it for me,” she mutters. “That sounds like too much work.”

“It’s too much work for some humans,” he replies, which is a bit gratifying. “I take it you have no idea of food allergies?”

She shakes her head. “The body ate a lot of vegetables and soups.”

He raises an eyebrow, turning around the corner and tilting them towards an even more brightly lit area full of tables and loud chatter. “Well, you had Spam and jerky in your cupboard, I assume that the body approved ofeverything you bought.” He waited for her to nod. “So she wasn’t a vegetarian, so I don’t need to worry about that.”

“Why would you worry?” Ambra asks. “She’s gone.”

It still hurts to say, and she ducks her head to avoid looking at him.

“Okay,” he murmurs, then tugs her by the sleeve again into the line of one booth. “Vegetables, I can aim towards that.”

Someone steps into the line behind them and Ambra stiffens.

“Too much of humanity stands too close to each other,” she mutters to Gurlien, at least knowing enough to not say that loudly.

“That is an objective amusing sentence,” he replies, also low. “But yes.”

Another person behind them, and the first person steps a bit nearer, and Ambra steps closer to Gurlien.

It’s not something she should be frightened of, they’re regular people, but it’s something stored in the body. Like the body wants to pull away from humans, not her.

It’s a confusing mess, and she sits with it, breathing hard out of her nose, trying to parse instincts from wants.

Gurlien pretends not to notice, but he’s obviously bad at it.

If it keeps him from turning her in, it’s worth it.

Another group of humans stride by, their gaze flickering up to Ambra, and one of them hides a laugh at something they see in her.

She bares her teeth in a grin, and the person startles, in term scooting away, an almost frightened expression on their face.

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