She looked over and saw that Jackson had filled one plate and was working on adding items to a second one. With a nearly silent sigh of longing, she glanced down at her own plate and told herself that she could always go back for more. She knew that the extra effort required to do so, unless something was particularly amazing, was usually enough to dissuade her. She waited while Jackson finished with his second plate and they headed back to their table together.
Jackson waited for her to sit down before placing one of his plates in front of him and the other closer to the center of the table. Elizabeth eyed, wondering if he was planning to share its contents, and then scolded herself silently before returning to the relatively meager contents of her own plate.
They sat together without talking for several minutes. Elizabeth gnawed slowly on a green stalk of something that resembled celery, but tasted like wood pulp. Across from her, Jackson worked his way steadily through the contents of his first place, only occasionally casting a glance her way.
The way to a man’s heart . . . Elizabeth considered with only slight amusement and reached for her glass of wine. Its luscious taste rejuvenated her mood and she attacked the assorted pieces of fruit with renewed enthusiasm.
Jackson, she noticed, slowed down his pace as he started in on his second plate. He must have skipped dinner, she guessed. Or it’s been a while since he’s had real, unreconstituted food.
He paused, took a sip of his wine, and asked her with serious interest, “Your ship leaving soon?”
Elizabeth’s fingers toyed with morsels on her plate, but her eyes remained on Jackson. “I’m not sure.”
His expression clearly conveyed his puzzlement.
“It’s being repaired,” Elizabeth explained.
Understanding brightened Jackson’s features. “Mine leaves in two days,” he said. “The Majestic.”
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