“Sentinel meeting tonight,” Ria told her. “At Lucas's place.” “Time?” ...“Seven. Sascha's doing dinner.” “God save us all.” Sascha had decided she liked cooking. Unfortunately, cooking didn't like her back.”

“She said she doesn't like your cooking. She said she'd rather eat a microwave dinner from the convenience store instead of something you cooked. Do you get it? Hm? Why are you being such a crybaby? Save the salt from your tears for seasoning.”

“Where do humans meet for normal dates?’ How the hell would she know? Except then she remembered Mary saying something about a colleague of hers meeting a man…What was the name of the place? ‘TGI Friday’s.’ she said. 'There’s one in Lucas Square.' 'Fine. Tell her eight o’clock tonight.' 'What name do I give her?' 'Tell her it’s…Hal. Hal E. Wood.”

“She smells of her cooking and the perfume Eau d'Hadrien. My mother wore it, too. She used to cook, like Lili. Our house smelled of garlic and thyme instead of sadness.”

“Baking was a science, precise, just mix it all together and let the oven do the work. But actually cooking, she couldn’t cook a tasty meal if her life depended on it.”

“Her lips was hot, like the ridge of a cooking dish.”