She chuckled, and gestured out the door as she picked up the paella with a quilted pad to protect her hand. "Come on. No plates needed, the forks are good enough with the serving dish."

Sinthia kissed him, leaning over the pan and listening to him as she sat on one of the wrought-iron chairs around an iron and glass table. "I've been to some of those places. Siberia, Syria. Mostly I got sent to cities, because I could blend in. To men, because I was thought pretty."