“Put it away, I don’t like them that thick.”
Treize raised an eyebrow, questioning Zechs silently. “Somehow I thought you’d prefer it this way,” he said, washing vigourously with bold strokes.
Zechs leaned against the door jamb, watching Treize with a judicious eye. “No,” he said finally. “No, I really don’t like them that thick. Length is better.”
Treize looked at him and smiled. It was not a malicious smile, but Zechs could tell by the gleam in his eye that his curiosity was well aroused. “Any particular reason why?”
“You ask too many questions,” said Zechs scowling. “It doesn’t matter anyway. It’s not as if I have a choice.”
“No…no, you don’t,” Treize agreed, “but you’ve got me wondering now.”
“In all honesty, it’s a matter of taste,” Zechs explained. “Not everyone feels the same way, but I find the thick ones bland. Too much mouth work, not enough return.”
“You think the long ones are easier to swallow?”
“Well, taken a bit at a time either works,” Zechs admitted reluctantly, “but there’s a definite difference in texture.”
“Texture? Really? I hadn’t noticed,” said Treize, mildly impressed.
“The thick ones are never as firm.”
A tiny smile played about Treize’s lips. “Well, there’s something I’ll have to remember. As to the bits, how is this?”
“Smaller than that,” said Zechs, exasperated. “Are you trying to choke me? Here, let me take over.”
Treize stepped aside and watched with amusement as Zechs re-chopped the cucumber.
He loved a good salad.