Revenge Turned Sweet

Chapter 49: Peace

•please appreciate the song choice, enjoy!•

The liquid hits the white surface. Splattering over the edges, dark red, and the smell is putrid. I grit my teeth together while I watch it get smeared around and try to maintain my composure. Not show any sign of weakness.

I swallow the lump in my throat that's formed from having not said anything in a little over an hour. "You're disgusting," I mumble and scrunch up my nose to show my distaste. My voice comes out hoarse and doesn't sound like it usually does at all.

Sam quirks an eyebrow at me from across the counter, chewing on a mouthful of scrambled eggs slathered in ketchup. Once he finally swallows the insane amount of eggs he shoveled into his mouth, he drops his fork into his plate, making me wince.

He wipes his mouth off with his napkin before speaking, thankfully. "It enhances the flavor, okay?" He gestures to the plate and my face contorts, seeing the mess of ketchup and egg that he's made. He's drowned the eggs so much so that it looks like he's eating brain matter smashed onto a plate.

"You're literally just eating ketchup!" I gesture to the disgusting dish in front of him and he smiles sarcastically. I shake my head as I draw in a deep breath. "It even smells disgusting," I tease as I bring my mug of coffee to my nose. "Not even my coffee can mask the smell, Sam."

He crosses his arms over his chest, now looking annoyed. "Alright, okay, hmm..." he hums and brings a finger to his face. He taps it to his chin a few times, mimicking deep thought. "What does Nadya do that's disgusting?"

"Nothing," I answer definitively for him.

"Aha!" Sam exclaims with a snap of his fingers. My eyes widen at him. He's very much a morning person. "Tea with milk. I mean, who does that?"

I narrow my eyes at him. Insulting a drink so dear to me and my heart. "You're not Russian. You don't understand, therefore, it doesn't count." I shrug and take a sip of my coffee. "Anything else you can think of?" I challenge him, enjoying the light banter this morning.

Sam and I have been a little rocky ever since he interrogated me, all things considered. But we've been working back to friends and this is the first time I don't feel like starting an argument. And the first time it hasn't felt like a forced conversation.

"The fact that you will only eat french fries if they're drenched in ranch," he brags as if he's won.

"That is a personal preference!" I defend myself.

"So is this!" He points to his plate.

I wag a finger at him, disagreeing with his point of view. "Eggs don't need a condiment, especially if they're scrambled." I pause, looking back down at his plate. "I could understand hot sauce or something but not ketchup."

"Well-" he cuts himself off as he shovels another forkful of scrambled egg ketchup soup into his mouth, making me scrunch my nose again. "I like it," he finishes his sentence as he's chewing and I sigh dramatically.

He chuckles, picking up a piece of toast that has some sort of strawberry jelly on it. I don't really see that as toast, but to each their own, I guess. "No breakfast today?" He asks, not looking up from his food.

I shake my head, though he can't see it. "Not very hungry this morning."

He's quiet for a moment, but I can hear the scraping of his fork on his plate. "Nervous?"

"Yes," I answer truthfully.

"We have a plan, and if we all play our parts, everything will work out. Nothing to be nervous about." I hear him say, but I'm too busy staring out the window at the landscape surrounding the compound. "Okay?"