"Divine, huh?" Fatima laughed. "I think that may be the highest compliment anyone's ever paid to my cooking. Don't get used to it, though. Most of the things I make come out of the freezer and go straight into the microwave."

But boy could she reheat leftovers.

She shifted a little closer to him with the rest of the halva, once again impressed by the uncanny knack he had for knowing his surroundings. Fatima, meanwhile, still stubbed her toe on the doorframe at night.

...maybe it was time to dedicate some study to the art of auspex. She'd always meant to. And it could certainly come in handy with her new line of 'business.'

"Well," she continued, "I can't tell you too much. That whole client-privilege thing. But I can tell you there's some evidence that the fire was set by the Devil of Hell's Kitchen." And what a horrible name that was.

The elusive figure had held more than a little fascination for Fatima, though. He had to be a Cainite. She was sure of it. What she couldn't figure out, though, were his motives. Speculation filled her free time, when she wasn't hanging with Matt or finding outlandish new decorations for her crummy apartment. She hadn't quite gotten to the point of filling up a wall with news clippings like some kind of conspiracy theorist nut but...

It could happen.