Davien sat across from Bel, looking like the cat that ate the canary. It was annoying to stare at his smug, proud face. "Do you have something to say? If you keep staring like that, I can't promise not to try to stab you with this fork," she threatened.
Davien shrugged. "Well, I was expecting you to say something, but since you have refused to, I don't mind doing the talking for you."
"What are you talking about?" She found his tone equally annoying. It didn't help that she knew he was enunciating his words in that manner just to annoy her.
"The bet. You haven't acknowledged my victory."
Bel's countenance changed, and she looked at her food. "What bet are you talking about?" She knew faking wasn't going to work, but she wasn't about to easily admit it. Besides, she was hoping the subject would never come up.
Davien smirked. "That tactic isn't going to work, and if that's the approach you're going to take, I might just stay away for longer."