Hannah's POV
"You can use your hand," Jonathan gently nudges me with a nod, and I comply eagerly, seizing the chicken thigh on my plate without a trace of hesitation. Lost in the ecstasy of the dish before me, I barely notice if I'm embarrassing him, too engrossed in relishing the flavors to dampen his pride.
"Chankyu," the words escape me muffled, drawing disgusted looks from the couples nearby.
"It's fine," Jonathan reassures me softly, but I feel like a child, overwhelmed by the exotic ambiance of the restaurant. "Just enjoy your meal," he insists, casting a comforting aura that makes me blush.
"Why do you despise witches?" I probe, determined to keep him on edge in my presence.
Instead of irritation, my question earns only a shrug and a serene smile from him. "They think they have
