Corbin Crowley was left speechless by her words, his face turning even darker. He grumbled, "Even with food in your mouth, you never shut up. Why do you have so much to say?"
Luna took another bite of roasted meat—honestly, the dog-man's cooking was pretty good. Smoky, crispy on the outside, tender inside—delicious!
Hearing him, she retorted discontentedly, "I'm just curious, okay? Somebody's attitude changed so fast, did you sleep it off and suddenly grow a conscience? Maybe realized you treated me like crap before and now want to make up for it?"
As she spoke, she glanced at Corbin Crowley, making a deliberately thoughtful face, as if she were seriously considering the question.
Corbin Crowley nearly coughed up blood in rage at her words. This fat chick seriously knew how to hit him where it hurt, talking like he's some kind of pervert.
His face was as black as the bottom of a pot, but his ears were faintly red. He glared at her viciously, then turned around and strode off.
