She laughed. Matt's self-effacing streak more than made up for his mysteriousness and his Wonder Bread white-ness. Maybe because it was a habit inside of her. It called out to her, like a mourning dove.

Of course, having his fine, fine, fine ass helped.

Smiling, she slid down from the counter, going over to the fridge where she'd stashed the halva. "Sit down," she told him. "I'll cut some for you. Chinese is already thirty minutes late. The guy probably got lost."

Or mugged. As much as Fatima liked Matt, she really didn't like Hell's Kitchen. After the McManions of southern California, it was a hard adjustment to make. But if Fatima was anything, it was stubborn. Besides, Hell's Kitchen was crawling with Cainite activity. She couldn't think of a better place to set up shop. "And congratulate me. I had a major breakthrough in my case today."

Setting herself up as a detective was only logical. She rarely got into specifics with Matt. But she was just in such a good mood today, she needed to celebrate.