"I'll take that as an 'I'm okay to keep smelling it,'" was her wry reply as she leaned against the counter's edge, but it was coated with amusement. "But I'll give you half credit for your sense of smell. Not everyone can pick out ingredients."

One finger tapped the bowl he'd identified. "Mushrooms. Chinese food isn't poison -- unless you order from the wrong place, and then your life is in your own hands."

Reaching out, she broke a pair of chopsticks free from their paper wrapping, balancing them in her fingers with practiced ease as she reached out to take a bit of meat from the next bowl over. The meat went into her mouth, and her eyes half-closed as she obviously savored it. "Spicy, as far as I'm concerned, is best -- even just a little, like this, to turn up the flavor."

Her eyes flicked sideways towards him -- just a quick brush, playful. "Though I don't know; it might be too much for what might be a virgin tongue."