Why didn't any food critics ever use "nom nom nom"? It was a perfect food phrase.

Priestly watched her rifle through the bags while his hands automatically went about setting up a new mise. God, he'd missed her. How the hell did he let five years go by without seeing her?

Right. 'Cause he'd had so much time on his hands, recently. He barely even found time to get back to Santa Cruz, half the time. He looked away again, focusing on cutting the bread, cheese, and veggies, and finding a bowl to mix the tuna salad in. He was drunk enough to know that'd require some concentration -- he wasn't about to be the one accidentally slicing off body parts, here.

"Right, so. With a lancer, I'm thinking a good white wine."