"I'm doubtful I would allow the vast majority of this group to cook any sort of food for me. I would rather subsist on disappointing salads than risk that."
She had, by this point, gathered some pretty strong suspicions for why everyone was gathered here. The friendliness of this man, however genuine it seemed, could not be a complete picture. Not for any of them. She didn't intend to be the first to offer up that sort of information on herself, but she would surely approach conversations with that potential danger in mind.
She accepts the book and looks at the cover, a derisive chuckle briefly escaping her lips. Of course it was Bosch.
"Ah, of course, Bosch. How fitting."
She gives it a cursory look through. It is far from her preferred era of study, and she had studied this era to some degree, but it would likely be better than reading some book about the history of radishes or whatever these shelves were otherwise lined with. She wondered if any of these books were published by her father's company and found herself absently glancing over them in a search for the familiar logo along the spine.
